Reblog Or Like If You Save It

No one:

Absolutely no one:

My thoughts while trying to sleep: binnie binnie changbinnie

I need your help.

My female cat was missing for 3 days and she appeared this morning with a broken jaw and a necrosed tongue. My grandmothers friend was at home and i asked for her credit card so i could take her to the doctor.

She got there and was examinated and we assume someone kicked her really hard, someone really mean. She is staying there for 3 days, she will go through surgery, and she will go through tests and stuff, i got a huge discount, but I had to pay 1390 reais for everything.

If anyone can help cover that, i have to pay her credit card by the 8th of next month and i have absolutely nothing to cover that. If you can't help me financially, please do by reblogging this post.

She needed to go urgently, i couldn't wait. She couldn't breathe, she was spewing pus through her mouth, she has a huge infection.

I didn't take any pictures because it's very hard to look at, even more so to take a picture of it, but I can send receipts and keep you posted on how she's doing. I'll call later and every day untill I can pick her up.

I hope I can. Because I heard from the doctor her life is on the line. It really was a serious injury.

Guys, please, any penny you have will do.

Please donate to caroline.rdf@outlook.com @paypal, to help me cover that bill. I am eternally grateful for everything you do and after this, they can yell and moan and meow all night but they will not leave the house ever again. I don't even care how stressed they get, they just will not leave.

Please help me. Please do.

Candy Floss

Reader x Clyde Logan

Author note: well, this was supposed to be a smutty one shot and i wrote a damn novel. warning: sickly fluff. smut. daddy & breeding kink

Your move to Virginia came as surprise to everyone. You were known as a “city girl”, always has been. However, as you came closer to turning 30, things shifted. The city started to feel too loud, too dirty, even the air felt heavy and smothering. 

The long term relationship that defined the last 5 years of your life had fizzled and died. As a result, everywhere you called home was awash with a person you no longer loved. A pervasive stain you couldn’t remove. The lens which you viewed the city through had changed, and not for the better.

Not everything had gone to shit if you were honest. You were lucky to be in a career that allowed you to be creative. Finally, you had enough of a reputation to go out on your own, be your own boss, take on the projects you wanted to; it was hard work but blissful.

The urge to make a fresh start grew over a few months. To be honest, trying to navigate the likes of Tinder after being out of the dating game for so long made you want to hurl your phone out of the window. The number of unsolicited dick pics that arrived in your inbox was fucking depressing (they weren’t even good looking dicks). Most of your other friends were in long-term relationships, as you had been, and seemed busy with their own lives. There seemed to be no reason to stay.

One Sunday, as you were watching one of those antique hunting shows, a guilty pleasure of yours, the hunters were in West Virginia and sweeping shots of the countryside were shown. It was beautiful, so green and looked so clean. Opening Google on your phone you type in West Virginia and start to scroll through the results. Clicking into a rental property page for no reason other than to be nosy, you audibly whined at the gorgeous little cottages that popped up for about ¼ of the price of your shoe-box apartment. With a sigh, you lock your phone and carry on watching.

A few days later, West Virginia was still on your mind. Each night you had been scrolling through cottages and imagining how you would decorate the inside, even going as far as to start a Pinterest board to feed the fantasy. It took a particularly awkward Tinder date, (in which you had run into your ex not once, but twice) and the consumption of a few wines to finally have a eureka moment. Why in God’s name were you still here? Nothing is stopping you from going wherever you goddamn want! And that was it.

..

Two weeks later you were hauling boxes into an almost Pinterest-worthy cottage in West Virginia. Jesus, the air felt fresh! You stood for a long time in the empty living room just enjoying the smell of wood and listening to the sounds of, well, nothing.

The silence at night was deafening, it actually freaked you out a touch, and you could only fall asleep with the television on. Your old morning routine of waking up and scrolling through social media for far too long had been replaced with long walks through the town and surrounding countryside. You had kept up your yoga and meditation practice which had been largely enhanced by the beautiful surrounds and the ability to do so outside on the grass, instead of on the fraying carpet in your old apartment.

Your only issue thus far was the cabin fever developing from working at home all day. In the city you would change scenery once or twice a day, favouring a few local coffee spots that offered bottomless cups and the local park. The town you had chosen to settle in was sprawling and minimal. However you hadn’t really searched for any possible spots, so one Monday you pulled on your sneakers, popped your laptop in your backpack and walked towards town.

You had walked past the bar Duck Tape many times on your walks and never paid much attention. It was just after 1 pm and although the parking lot was near empty, the open sign was lit up in the window. You could also smell coffee, which closed the deal and you were striding across the parking lot towards the door.

You pushed the mesh door open and stepped into the deserted bar. It was clean and tidy, with dappled sunlight that streamed through the windows, lighting up the largely wooden space making it feel cozy and welcoming.

“Hello?” You called out apprehensively as you made your way towards the wooden bar.

You heard heavy footsteps come up the hallway behind the bar and a very tall and surprisingly young (not an old barman like you expected) man emerged.

“Are ya lost?” He asked in a thick Virginian accent, raising an eyebrow. You were slightly taken aback, not just by the question but also how oddly handsome he was. He was built like a tree, tall and broad. You usually didn’t feel small, standing at 5″9 yourself, but this guy made you feel almost petite. He had strong facial features, that somehow worked well together. His large nose, kind eyes and soft lips were framed by long, thick raven hair. You usually didn’t think much of facial hair but his strange goatee suited him well. 

“Oh!.. ah!… nope! Actually, I’m new around here and was just looking for a place to sit and do some work for a few hours and saw, well actually, smelt your coffee” you blabbered, you could feel yourself blushing. Suddenly feeling slightly stupid that you thought you could use a local bar in this town like a cafe in the city. 

“Well, thatsa new one, we usually are pretty dead around this time a’ day, so make ya’self comfortable, I’ll grab ya a cup,” he said motioning to a table. It was then you noticed that one of his arms was prosthetic. Interesting guy, you thought to yourself as he walked over to the coffee machine. You could feel his eyes on you as you piled your slightly out of control hair on top of your head, securing it in a clip. It was very curly and a faded pinky blonde. You rather enjoyed playing into the “creative” stereotype that your career graced you with.

He came over with a steaming cup of coffee as you were unpacking your laptop and drawing tablet. “Wow that’s fancy, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone with a computer in this here bar,” He said as he placed the cup a rather comical distance from your computer. You chuckled and shrugged, “not really fancy, just tools of the trade”. He placed a little jug of cream and dish of sugar next to the cup and said “well, just help ya’self to more coffee and I will be around so let me know if you need anything” and started to walk off.

“Thanks uh…?”

“It’s Clyde”

“Thanks, Clyde, I’m y/n” you said, smiling at him. You couldn’t help but notice how stoic he was, didn’t really smile, but managed to seem gentle and kind. —–

Over the next few weeks, you spent most weekdays at the same spot in Duck Tape. It was a nice routine, arriving at about 1 pm and leaving by 4.30pm before the post-workday rush stormed the place. Clyde had even gone as far to place a little “Reserved” sign on the table, even though it was always empty when you arrived. You couldn’t deny the first time you saw it you almost audibly said “awhhhhhhh” and had a surge of butterflies. 

You became slowly aware of Clyde watching you work from time to time. But didn’t let on, you enjoyed the harmless attention. You, yourself sneaked a peak every time he reached up high, causing his shirt to ride up and his slightly chiselled stomach and snail trail came into view.  You engaged in casual conversation but often worked away in comfortable silence. You got the impression that Clyde was a quiet person, not entirely enthusiastic on forced small talk, much like yourself. You knew basic bits and pieces about Clyde now but only found out he actually owned the bar after his brother Jimmy paid him a visit. Jimmy was stunningly opposite to Clyde in personality, although also fairly handsome. He had taken great joy in finding you tapping away and had introduced himself, after a brief conversation Clyde had appeared. Jimmy grinned and practically yelled “Brother! ya didn’t tell me ya had a beautiful lady ‘ere every day” as he slapped him on the back. Clyde looked like he was wishing for death and you couldn’t help but giggle into your coffee mug. Jimmy winked at you on the way out. Clyde muttered “So sorry bout that” as he turned on his feet and disappeared out into the back on the bar. It was thoroughly amusing and left you smiling for days. 

You caught yourself thinking about Clyde more and more often, and you couldn’t deny, it was veering towards being lustful. It had really gone off the deep end when you noticed how huge his hands were. Also, you hadn’t been laid in goddamn weeks and your vibrator was receiving a thrashing. 

—-

Seeing Clyde most days was now firmly routine. You were even getting rare small smiles from him when you arrived and announced yourself with a sing-song “Hi Clyde”. He had even taken to spending short breaks sitting next to you and watching you either draw on your tablet or work away in InDesign in fascination. He asked a question from time to time, and you would answer and explain the process you were doing or the current project you were working on. 

You had been working like a maniac recently in an effort to secure repeat contracts from several companies. Clyde seemed to have noticed and was more attentive in his coffee delivery as the dark circles under your eyes grew darker from working into the small hours.

One afternoon roughly 3 months after you first started frequenting Duck Tape you arrived at settled at your “reserved” table. Clyde put down your coffee and said: “Here ya go Flossie.”

You snorted a laugh and looked up at Clyde with a grin that visibly alarmed him and you said “Sorry, what!?”

“What? what did I say?!”

“You called me Flossie!” You laughed.

Colour tinged Clyde’s cheeks. “Oh shit sorry y/n, but ya hair reminds me of damn candy floss and-“ he started to ramble.

“My dad used to call me that when I was little!” You cut him off as you grinned up at him, “bits of my hair used to get in his face when I insisted on sleeping in my parent’s bed and he used to say, ‘your damn hair Flossie!’”

Clyde’s accidental pet name admission seemed to shift things. He seemed a lot less flustered. And your conversations seemed to get longer. You were also now exclusively Flossie or Floss, but only when no one else was around.

You took the pet name acquisition out on your vibrator.

———

“So Floss, when are ya gonna actually have a real drink here?” Clyde enquired one particularly warm afternoon as you packed away your things. You looked up surprised and met Clyde’s intense but gentle gaze.

“Well I guess I could come back in a few hours” you shrugged, “I’m just about to wrap up my current project this evening.”

Clyde thumped the bar with his (real) hand, making you jump slightly “We will celebrate then”.

We you mused. Butterflies stormed your stomach.

“Alrighty then sir, see you in a few hours,” you said to Clyde as you shrugged on your backpack.

“See ya Floss”

You half powerwalked home with absolutely no intention of doing more work. Fuck that. This is the cue you had hoped for. You had been far too shy and socially anxious to rock up during the evening on your own accord. Instead preferring to work into the night or curl up on the couch with a TV show, all whilst thinking about that handsome man, Clyde.

You were filled with nerves as you showered, exfoliated, shaved, and washed your hair. “Jesus Christ”, you muttered to yourself as you looked into the mirror. This isn’t a date you reminded yourself, but you felt like for a guy like Clyde this was as close to it as it gets. Not that he isn’t gentlemanly, more that he is too shy to ask outright. And you certainly weren’t one to make the first move either.

Being aware that Clyde had only ever seen you in borderline boring ‘work outfits’, which for you were soft tees and jeans or loose fitting dresses and leggings. You were a creature of comfort. You slipped on your favourite pastel pink, barely-there thong and matching the lacey bra. Nice lingerie was something you treated yourself with often. You then spent far too long rummaging around in your closet for something that was neither too dressy, nor too casual. Eventually, you settled on a knee-length casual dress that fitted your waist nicely and accentuated your hourglass shape. You applied some fairly minimal makeup, as you did every day and haphazardly pinned back your wild locks. Content that you looked neither too dressy or too casual you spent the next half an hour agonizing over whether it was too early to go.

You anxiously walked the short walk to Duck Tape at 7 pm. The car park was notably fuller than when you usually visited, not that that was a hard feat. You could hear the chatter and sound of music floating out of the normally quiet bar as you crossed the parking lot. You pushed open the screen door after a few deep yoga breathes and the comforting smell of wood and beer greeted you. You noticed Clyde had snapped his head up the second the door creaked, as if on high alert. His up and down scan of your body did not go unnoticed by you but seemingly did to everyone else in the bar as they carried on chatting loudly.

You walked over to the bar and slipped into a bar stool giving Clyde a grin.

“Evenin’ Fl-, y/n” his stumble of names made you giggle and he winked at you.

“May I please have a vodka martini” you asked politely with a grin.

“Comin’ right up darlin’!” He said and started to busy himself with preparing.

Darling. Before you even had a chance to think about that the display in front of you made you almost fall off your stool. Clyde was skilful, making a martini for you with one hand, complete with bottle spins and throws. It was fucking erotic. Your mouth was still hanging open as he slides the drink towards you. “Holy fucking shit Clyde, that was amazing” you exclaimed, looking up at him with raised eyebrows.

His cheeks became a bit pink as he shrugged it off “Lots of practice s’all”. Just as you brought the glass to your lips a pretty blonde sat in the stool next to you and put a hand on your shoulder “you must be y/n?!” You nodded, puzzled, and tried to shoot a look at Clyde but he was attending to another customer.

“So ya’ll are the one my big teddy bear of a brother is smiling about all the time! I swear to god I have never seen him so dedicated to opening the bar on time!”

Before you had a chance to react she was yelling “Clyde! Get me a wine will ya!”

Clyde turned and saw her sitting next to you and you saw a slight flash of panic pass across his face.

“Mellie, leave her alone…” he almost groaned.

She turned back to you and must have noted the blazing red that now graced your cheeks. She leaned in and whispered in your ear “I don’t know what you are doing but keep it up, I haven’t seen him this happy since he came back from Iraq.”

She gave your back a pat and jumped off the stool. Sticking her tongue out at Clyde as she walked off. You noticed Clyde trying to read your face, so you just sipped the martini as nonchalantly as possible. “Sorry about her” he muttered, “she likes to get in everyone’s business.”

You shrugged “she seems lovely, Clyde.”

As the night went on you chatted on and off with Clyde and various people who sat next to you at the bar. You remained in awe of Clyde’s barman skills, although no one else seemed at all surprised when he twirled bottles and shook drinks with absolute ease. You tried to ignore the growing throb between your legs as drink after drink was set in front of you by that giant hand.

It was a weeknight, so fairly empty by 10 pm, and Clyde migrated to the other side of the bar and sat next to you as he sipped a whiskey on the rocks slowly. “You look pretty Floss” he murmured to you soon after sitting down. Feeling slightly tipsy you giggled and rubbed his bicep, “you aren’t so bad yourself handsome!” God that bicep felt strong. You saw a slight blush tinged his cheeks. You chatted away for a while, and both failed to notice you were the only two left. Clyde had downed a few whiskeys, which seemed to have loosened him up as he had reached around and rested his good arm on the back of your chair comfortably.

At 11 you helped Clyde clean up and put the chairs on the tables so the floor could be swept in the morning. You perched on the bar waiting while Clyde took the rubbish out back. He came back and stood in front of you, from your position sitting on the bar you were actually almost eye to eye. Liquid courage seems to have possession of your limbs as you swung your legs out and wrapped them around Clyde and pulled him close to you. He smiled and raised an eyebrow, “whatcha doing Floss….?”

You looked him in the eye and grinned, placing your hands on his broad shoulders so his hair tickled your hands. “Mellie told me a secret” you whispered through your grin. Clyde groaned a little but his smile remained. You leaned forward and swept his hair away from his ear so you could whisper in it. “She told me that I make you happy.” You sat back and beamed at him. He studied your face for a second and then his big hand was behind your head and pulling you towards him.

Your lips met, he tasted like whiskey and his lips were soft. So, so soft. He pulled back and murmured “You do darlin’, you do.” It was your turn to pull him in, oh how you had been wanting to put your hands in those long locks, and when you did it was even better than you had imagined. You sucked his bottom lip as his moustache tickled your face. You licked along the seam of his mouth, eliciting the most heavenly groan. You pulled back with a giggle, one of your hands still combing through his hair. “Ya gonna kill me Floss,” he said in a husky voice. “Well you better walk me home before you have a heart attack,” you said with a coy smile as you jumped off the bar and strode towards the door purposefully.

You had never seen the man move so fast, he practically ran to his office to get the keys to lock up, pulling doors shutters shut at an impressive pace. After locking the front door he turned to you and you extended your hand and said: “I want a hand hug please.” He chuckled and took your hand. Conversation flowed easily on the way to your house and before you knew it you were at the front door, you unlocked it and practically dragged Clyde inside.

You turned and pulled Clyde’s head down and purred “Take me to bed.”

Clyde’s turned his head and looked you straight in the eye and growled: “Oh sweetheart, I thought you would never ask”. In one quick motion he squatted slightly and picked you up with one arm causing you to squeal. He somehow seemed to know where the bedroom was and sat down with you still in his arm on the bed. His prosthetic arm seemed to be in his way, “do you want to take that off?” You asked, raising an eyebrow, at him. “Oh don’t worry darlin’ I don’t want to freak you out, having half an arm n all” he smiled.

“I love your arms, I think they are so fucking sexy, honestly, take it off if you will be more comfortable” you insisted as you rubbed his upper arms affectionately.

“Well, ok, but you just tell me if ya want me to put it back on darlin’.” He reached and pulled off the metal prosthetic, you took it and carefully placed it on your dressing table. Still sitting on the edge of the bed, Clyde smiled gently at you. You climbed into his lap, onto your knees so you were straddling him and ran your hands down his arms, the back up to his face and into his hair, pressing your forehead against his. He sighed and responded by running his hand up and down your back. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” you whispered.

“Me too Floss, ya so beautiful darlin’, I was just too chicken-shit to tell ya” he breathed. His lips met yours feverishly and you explored each other’s mouths, your hands were fumbling with his shirt buttons, his one hand trying to push down your dress straps. You were both failing spectacularly and you quickly stood and ripped your whole dress off over your head.

“Holy shit” he muttered as he drank in your pink lacy bra and tiny thong. Blushing you bent down and kissed his lips lightly before helping him pull off his shirt. His torso was toned and that glorious happy trail…. “fuck Clyde you are making me feel a bit self-conscious here” you muttered as you poked your remarkably untoned stomach. He pulled you toward him in a swift movement.

“Now you listen here” he growled quietly as he ran his hand over your hip and then arse giving each cheek a light squeeze, “these curves are the sexiest damn thing I ‘av ever seen darlin” he said as he kissed you right on the stomach. A giggle escaped your lips, you started tugging at his jeans that were now visibly tented at the front. He stood and stripped them off, remaining in a pair of briefs, and oh god, he looked like a big boy. You pushed him up the bed so he was sitting against the head board and climbed into his lap, his erection hard against your increasingly damp, clothed sex.

He ran his hand down your back and expertly unclipped your bra. He moaned at the sight of your hard nipples and full breasts, his hand was on one and his mouth on the other in record time. Even in his large hand, you were a decent handful, and he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it. He gently squeezed as he sucked one nipple and then the other. A loud moan escaped your lips as you threw your head back in ecstasy. “Music to my ears sweetheart, fuck ya have perfect tits” he groaned before he continued his assault on your chest.

Growing impatient you started to grind against his hard clothed cock as he sucked your nipples. Your hand travelled down and palmed it greedily. Clyde pulled back and raised an eyebrow at you with a smirk, “what do you want darlin’?”

All you could do was whine needily.

You reached into his briefs and grasped him, fuck, he was huge. Thick. You gave him a slow pump which caused you both to moan. Truth be told you were usually into far more foreplay, but Goddamn it, this wasn’t the time. Seemingly on the same page, Clyde pulled his briefs down than yours and gripped your waist firmly with his hand and other arm. He looked you in the eye questioningly, you were growing rather fluent in the art of reading Clyde’s microexpressions. “Birth control.” You rasped.

He gave a small nod and then lowered you down onto his rock hard cock with agonising slowness, stopping when you gasped as the tip made contact with your opening. “Jesus fuck don’t stop” you growled, which caused Clyde to chuckle. The stretch was exquisite, you don’t think you had ever moaned so loudly as when you were fully seated. You sat there, muted for a few seconds, eyes closed.

“Holy hell darlin’ you feel so good, fuck, so tight,” Clyde said in a strained voice, “I’m not gonna last long, FUCK.”

You started to move up and down slowly and the sensation caused you to throw your head back, “neither am I” you said through gritted teeth.

You looked down at Clyde, he was watching your breasts bounce as you moved, the sheer sight made you moan louder. His hand was alternating between cupping an arse cheek and tracing the curve of your hip. No one had ever made you feel so sexy.

Suddenly he slipped out and flipped you both, causing you to squeak as you landed on your back. “You are workin’ too hard sweetheart,” he said as he propped your legs on his broad shoulders. You had a magnificent view of his body. Oh, it was… beautiful.

He entered you again with the same cautionary slowness. The new angle was sublime. You felt every inch. As he started to pump you started to babble “oh my god, oh fuck, oh god, feels so good, please don’t stop, fuck!” The feedback causes a low moan to escape Clyde’s mouth. Propping himself with his partial arm he reached and started to rub your clit.

“Oh fuck, that’s going to make me come!” You gasped, looking Clyde straight in the eye.

“That’s the idea darlin’ I ain’t gunna last much longer, your pussy is too perfect.”

The praise sent you over the edge and towards climax as you clenched around Clyde and rolled your eyes back in pure ecstasy. Watching you come sent Clyde over the edge and he shuddered and let out a guttural moan as he came in you.

He pulled out and collapsed next to you. You rolled to face him, reached and started stroking his hair, smiling shyly. His eyes searched yours, before he leant in, kissing you softly on the lips and murmuring “Floss, you are perfect.”

You hummed and buried your face into his neck, his skin was so warm…

Eventually, you got up and ran a bath, and you both got in, sighing contentedly as you leaned back against Clyde’s chest. He stroked your arm mindlessly, as you sat in comfortable silence.

Once in bed, Clyde whispered sweet things in your ear as he stroked your hair. You drifted to sleep in his arms, a smile on your face.

———

Things didn’t really change once your relationship became romantic, however, everyone found out pretty quickly as Jimmy walked in on you kissing at the bar. He had whooped loudly and pulled you both into a group hug.

Mellie had pulled you aside and given you a big hug, her eyes glistened with tears as she told you how happy you were making her brother. “I didn’t know if he was ever going to smile like he used to” she had gushed.

Neither of you was largely comfortable with PDA and you stuck to the usual routine of working at Duck Tape in the day. However, Clyde was spending most nights at your cottage as it was such a short walk. And really, you couldn’t keep your hands off one another.

You found out Clyde was an incredibly generous lover, the man was happy to eat you out for damn near hours, until you were almost crying from the sensitivity, not stopping until you came a number of times. He loved to worship your body, slowly taking in every curve, with his hand or mouth.

Quickies weren’t a thing, which suited you fine actually, as you could never orgasm that fast and having Clyde slowly luxuriate your body was blissful. I mean he did bend you over his desk one quiet day at the bar, but it wasn’t the norm.

—–

Clyde’s face had been between your legs for a good 20 minutes one night, causing you to be in a state of euphoria which erased any verbal control. You moaned loudly “oh daddy pleaseeee”.

Clyde’s head snapped up, eyes flashing. Realising what you said, you giggled with embarrassment. “What did you say?” He growled.

“Daddy?” You offered coyly.

“Oh darlin’, I will be ya daddy, but only if you are a good girl” he rumbled, with a look that suggested you were about to be ravaged.

His flipped you over onto all fours and slapped your arse causing you to moan, the ache between your legs intensified.

“Oh please, please” you begged.

“Who am i?” Clyde demanded.

“Dadddddyyyyyyyy” you whined.

Clyde thrust into you hard and started an uncharacteristically punishing pace.

“Gunna put a baby in you” he puffed “make you mine.”

No one had ever said such a thing to you, but fuck, it was hot as hell.

“Oh yes daddy, please, make me yours!” You cried, your walls spasming around him.

That was Clyde’s undoing, coming hard in you with a loud “AH FUCK!”.

———

TBC?

Leave me prompts for this fic?

I have no idea what I am doing.

🍭

——

Part II

The Smut Bucket

Candy Floss II

Note: to say I was floored at the reaction to my first ever piece of fan fiction, would be an understatement. Thank you so much. *weeps and

Argh... Where's my favourite boy?

There he is...

That's my favourite boy!

This man does something to me that I cannot speak of in front of the children

This man awaken my inner daddy isues

Having an abusive parent is kinda funny in retrospect like mommy why do you have beef with me im 4 i love you

Eddie: *standing on the cafeteria table* I’m a scary metalhead. No one tells me what to do

Y/N: sit back down

Eddie: *practically fucking falls into his chair* I’m sat

Had to do one for Eddie too sorry not sorry

PLEASE hype Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings as much as you hyped The Falcon and The Winter Soldier or Wandavision, it deserves all the love and REPRESENTATION MATTERS.

With all the Asian hate going around, THIS is our moment as a fandom to show love and support, and hype this the fuck up because it's gonna be BRILLIANT!

LOSING MY FUCKING MIND RN

Taking What's Not Yours (Dracule Mihawk x Reader)

a/n: soooooo, there is this pirate warlooooord. basically, i've watched the live action show on Netflix and immediately had to commit a one shot.

Warnings: Pure Smut (i had to get it out of my system), Wall Donging, Use of Alcohol, Stealing, Plotting, Lollygagging, inappropriate use of that cunty cross necklace.

Summary: A misguided attempt at impressing your friend lands you in a very peculiar situation. (cross-posted on AO3)

   The bar buzzed with the energy of drunken people. Your throat still burned with the after-taste of the cheapest rum the establishment had to offer, and for a second you've become deeply worried about losing your eyesight, as faint notes of straight methanol registers in your brain. Then, the pleasant buzz hits your nerves like a suffocating blanket, and in one moment you sense all your troubles drifting away. And there has been quite a lot of troubles on your mind lately.

Mainly, the Marines, their presence an annoying nuisance. By no means were you a pirate, no. You searched for freedom in different ways, such as stealing as much, and as often as you could. Money was the driving force of your life, but you'd be lying, if you said it was the only pleasure you seek. The thrill of the chase, of finding that perfect little trinket you can grab, and your victim would be non the wiser. The euphoria of creating distractions in one place, so you can strike like a viper in another. It made your blood boil with excitement incomparable to anything else. 

On top of that, besides the occasional confrontation, the Marines simply couldn't identify you. All it took, was a bandana around the lower half of your face, and suddenly you were able to march into a bar, such as this, filled with Marines, and no one would notice. Your eyes fall onto a rather skinny one, the belt of his too big uniform is digging into his waist, betraying how little there actually is of him. He looks back at you, smiles, and joins a group of his friends at one of the tables. You reciprocate the smile with a glint in your eye. The poor bastard doesn't know it was you, who stole an antique photo of his grandma right from his breast pocket. 

In your defense, the small frame was made of gold. And damned pretty at that. It fetched you a pretty price too, one you were currently drinking away, waiting for your friend to join you in your efforts of landing under the table by the end of the night. 

You barely manage to go through one fourth of the bottle, when they arrive, smile on their face and hair wild from running through the streets. It all goes downhill from there, as stories and alcohol flow freely between the two of you. It's a welcomed distraction from the gray reality of life, a small ray of sunshine in this murky town. They tell you about the latest heist they've pulled, eyes sparkling in the dim light, as they recount a particularly risky part of their daring escape. You snort into your glass, shake your head.

- See, that's where we're different. - you counter, leaning back into your chair - For me, it's all about stealth. In and out, so they won't know when they've been robbed. 

Your friend giggles to themselves. The drink in their glass splashes slightly, as they place it forcefully on the table. 

- You really think you're that good, huh? - they challenge, and already, you can feel the tingling sensation of excitement at the tips of your fingers. 

- I know so. 

They furrow their brows, turning towards the crowd currently hounding the bartender. There's a mischievous smirk playing around on their lips, as they turn their attention back to you.

- So, if I were to choose any person here, and told you to steal from them unnoticed, you'd do it?

The absolute gall of this question. Of course, you would. Hell, you'd do it multiple times, until this whole bar was filled with people suddenly missing their belongings. Because nothing compared to the thrill of reaching into someone else's pocket unnoticed.

- You know what? - your eyes run across the gathered crowd, smirk playing around on your lips, as you've spotted your chosen victim. - See that guy in the black coat? The one with the big ass hat. I bet I can get that fancy necklace off of him, in like, three minutes tops. 

As you speak, your friend follows your gaze through the Marines, and the pirates, and all the in-betweens. But when their eyes finally land on your target, they freeze in their spot, before rather rudely grabbing your shirt at the collar. Then, so fast, the world starts to spin in front of your eyes, they yank you under the table. Your stomach lurches with protest at the sudden movement. You give your friend a confused shake of your head. 

- Do you have any idea, who you're talking about? - they whisper-yell, eyes wide and clearly terrified. 

- What, about the hat guy?

Apparently you've said it too loud, because your friend nearly launches themselves at you. 

- That's Dracule fucking Mihawk.

From the way they've said the man's name, you gather, it should be at least familiar to you. Unfortunately, you can't say you know much of the world outside of the town, so your confused expression deepens. 

- He's like, the biggest deal - Your friend continues, their grip on your shirt loosening slightly - Like, children read stories about him and shit.

- I didn't - you shrug, before rising slightly up, so you can peek from above the table. 

The hat man has turned his back to you, his stature rather impressing, as he towers over everyone in the establishment. Your eyes follow the dark lapels of his coat, thief senses greedily gliding over the handle of his sword secured to his back. It's reminiscent of a cross, with gigantic, shiny gems nearly tempting you to do something unwise. Your friend tugs you back down, and your chin scratches on the rough surface of the table.

- What is he, like, a missionary? - you ask, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

- What?

- You know, the cross and all that...

- What kind of missionaries have you been seeing?

Fair point, you think, before risking another peek, against your friend's efforts to pull you down.

 The man, Mihawk, takes a long swing from a flagon filled with something you can't really identify. You watch almost greedily, as his Adam's apple moves, when he swallows his drink. Then, your eyes drift to the necklace, nestled on his exposed chest. Gold, real gold, you can see it from here. Another cross, albeit, much simpler, than what he had on his back. A week of drinks, and fancy ones at that flash before your eyes. 

- Don't even think about it - your friend warns, finally giving up, and letting go of your shirt. 

Your eyes stay fixated on your prize. If you could just see where the clasp of the necklace is...

- Think about what...? - your voice betrays you, and you wet your lips with your tongue in concentration.

- He'll kill you - your friend warns - Like, actually kill you. This is not a man you should fuck with.

At that, you finally tear away, your eyes meeting your friends, a sea of mischief swirling in them.

- Who said anything about fucking? - you say with a wink, and before your friend can say anything else, you rise from your seat.

Taking the half-empty bottle of rum in one, smooth movement, you begin to make your way towards the bar, adding a stumble and a drunken giggle for good measure. The previous ungodly ammounts of liquor circulating your body definitely help with the impression, but you're pleasantly surprised, that your head stays relatively clear. Although, if your target is truly as powerful and dangerous, as your friend makes him out to be, then perhaps you really lost your mind for good. Best not to dwell on it though. 

The man barely spares you a glance, as you collide with the bar right next to him, arm brushing against his in a deliberate movement. You make sure to press your chest against the countertop, before waving at the bartender a bit too enthusiastically. The leftover liquor in your bottle sloshes out, landing straight onto the man's chest and lap. At that, he finally moves, annoyance clear in his rigid posture. Traces of liquid fall all the way from his collarbones to the belt buckle of his trousers.  

The truly magnificent performance of a drunken, apologetic girl you gave at that moment, would ensure you the entry to the most prestigious acting schools. Your eyes widen comically, as you follow the trajectory of your drink. He barely flinches, as his entire front becomes covered in alcohol, but he does react, as soon as you start apologizing, a lot, your voice quivering as if you're about to burst out crying. 

Don't look up, you remind yourself, as your body moves closer to his. You pull down the sleeve of your shirt and reach towards him, trying to dry some of the liquor off his skin. For the split second you manage to make contact, your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. He's incredibly warm, his skin pulled taut against prominent muscles. Then, your sleeve reaches the golden necklace.

His arm immediately shoots out, grabbing you by the wrist and nearly shoving you off. It was enough, though. That short moment of contact revealed more than you've bargained for.  

- Leave - you truly flinch at the sound of his gravely voice, no acting needed - You've embarrassed yourself quite enough, woman.

Your head nods fervently, hair jumping around your face. He releases your wrist, and you mutter another string of "I'm so sorry, sir". Then, you throw in a sniffle, for good measure, but your treacherous eyes drift upwards, desperate to catch a glimpse of the man's face, as you're only inches from him. Yellow envelops you in an instant, a piercing, unrelenting gaze, which breaks through all your defenses. Your gaze hardens in an instant, challenge rising in your posture like its second nature. One of the man's prominent eyebrows shoot upwards ever so slightly, and you know it's your time to exit the stage. 

So you bow your head again and slip past him as quickly, as you physically can. His golden gaze follows you, the feeling of his eyes at the back of your neck makes your shoulders tense. With a stumble, this one not rehearsed, you push past the gathered patrons, until you reach the doors to the restrooms, nearly falling through them, in your haste to remove yourself from this strange situation. 

Your body collides with the row of basins, as you lean forward to try and catch your breath. Your heart is thrumming in your chest, the sound of blood rushing through your ears deafening. It's fear, you're aware. You've never been so close to being exposed, no one has ever seen straight through you, and so quickly at that. Chills run the length of your spine with such force you physically cringe. 

And then, something else starts to brew in the pit of your stomach. Something that starts at the tips of your fingers, spreading upwards, until it settles in your chest. The magnetic pull of excitement, the danger of a new challenge. Your brain feels hot inside your skull, as you gather all the information you managed to pull out. 

The necklace is heavy, but strangely, not as heavy, as solid gold would be. The clasp is sturdy, but small. You could feel it, with how the strap tightened, when you pulled at it. And one more thing. As you tried to "dry" it, the body of the necklace shifted slightly, so you could see the clasp peeking over the man's shoulder. You were almost entirely sure it was one of those old-timey ones. The one, where two halves fit together, incredibly easy to open. 

God, you really are going to pull this off. You hype yourself up, in front of the mirror, jumping from leg to leg, like a sportsman ready to fight for their team. Easy. Quiet. In and out. You've done it a thousand times, why would this one be different? After this rather pathetic pep talk, you make up your mind. Splashing some water onto your face, you give yourself one last look in the mirror, determination filling your eyes to the brim. 

And then, you're out, the door to the bathroom swings behind you, as you easily blend into the crowd of rowdy patrons. He's almost impossible to miss amongst the ruckus, with his straight posture and that damned hat. There is a plan forming in your head, as you stalk towards him. The unfortunate waiter, with a tray filled with tall beer glasses walks towards you, and with ease, you slide your leg to the side, making him trip right onto the floor. 

It creates enough of a distraction for you to smoothly move behind your target, and as he looks over at the screaming crowd, you hand makes its way behind the collar of his coat. With the warmth of his skin just under your fingertips, you touch the clasp of the necklace. It unravels immediately, sliding off of his neck, where, just out of his vision, your other hand waits. The cross lands in your palm just as the man realizes what is happening.

His entire body jerks in your direction, large hands immediately flying towards the gigantic sword on his back. Thankfully, you're faster. Fingers squeeze around the smaller cross, and suddenly all pretense is gone, as you bolt back to the restrooms. You don't stop to check if the man is pursuing you, a flurry of emotions chasing you out of the establishment. Excitement, yes, of course, but mostly impossible to explain fear. In that moment you know, you can't get caught if you want your life to continue. 

So, you barrel through the doors to the restroom and immediately jump onto one of the basins. Your hands make quick work opening the small window just below the ceiling, its lock coming undone under the prying of your lockpick. Night air floods the bathroom with the crisp smell of the harbour. Putting all your concentration into athletics, you jump through the small opening, squeezing through. Your shirt catches onto the lock and tears with the force of your body. You land on your face, right into the cobbled street below.  Only then do you risk taking the time, and looking around, eyes scanning the dark, as your breath quickens. 

Nothing. A dog is barking somewhere, and even from the outside you can hear the sounds of the patrons screaming over each other. For a split second you wonder, if one of the voices belongs to your target, but decide against it. He didn't seem the type to raise his voice. Perhaps that was one of the things, which unsettled you about him. 

Tossing the necklace a couple of times in your hand, you observe as the gold shines in the light coming from the lanterns strung out around the city. There, right under the lower half of the cross, you could see a tiny groove. As if it was meant to be unscrewed or something of the sort. Deciding against hanging around in the ark alley right outside the bar, you put the necklace around your neck.

You manage to take about five steps, before some force grabs onto the back of your shirt. A hand twists itself into the torn material, and yanks you back so fast, and so hard, you completely loose balance. The brick wall of the lower part of the bar greets you with sharp pain, the impact knocking the wind out of your lungs. Stars swim in front of your eyes and your stomach twists and turns, as a sudden wave of nausea overcomes you. 

Then, all you see is yellow. 

He's here, arm pressed right under your chin with unwavering strength, his golden eyes bearing into you, watching you struggle against him. The smell of smoke, seawater and wine engulfs you whole, and suddenly the weight of the stolen necklace on your chest becomes unbearable. It's getting harder and harder to breathe. If you thought you were scared of the strange man before, now you're downright terrified. 

- Not many people would dare to steal from me - his voice is steady, almost bored, but your ears pick up on the subtle tone of curiosity - Let alone do so successfully.

Perhaps it's the alcohol in your system, or perhaps your ego has grown much too big, but you almost feel as if the man is impressed. 

- Tell me, what is your name? - his arm digs a bit further into your skin before retracting ever so slightly, not enough to choke you, but enough to remind you, that he could do so very easily. 

Your tongue darts out to wet you lips, and you will yourself to sound even a fraction less scared than you truly felt.

- I'm nobody - you whisper fervently - I'm nothing. It was a stupid joke, I'm so sorry.

His eyes scan your face, taking in your disheveled hair, the way your eyebrows scrunch together, the way your lips tremble. His gaze slides further down to your panicked pulse running rampant, catching slightly at your heaving chest, before snapping back up. Freezing chills run up and down your body, and your legs kick out slightly, trying to find better footing, to regain some control over the situation. He gives you no such chance, as his arm pushes your neck further into the wall, and as your breath leaves you, your body starts to struggle. 

- Nobody. Nothing. And yet you've managed to steal from me - something akin to subdued mirth flashes in his golden irises - If only for a moment. 

His other hand rises and your heart stops in your chest, as you feel the tips of his fingers tracing the line of the necklace, from the juncture between your neck and your arm, sliding lower. There is no mistaking the small gasp leaving your lips, when he reaches the heavy cross nestled right on top of your breasts. He taps the goden piece once, twice, before grasping it firmly and giving it a hard yank. The clasp at the back digs painfully into your skin before it gives out, snapping and falling right into his hand. 

- You're a curious little thief - his voice lowers, as he inclines his head to look at you closer - For that reason, I'll let you live, this one time. The world needs some chaos, after all.  

You expect him to move away, give you space to breathe and disapear into the night. Yet, none of you make a move. Your body stays pinned to the wall, the bricks spreading cold throughout your back. He never retreats, standing firmly in his place, as his arm still presses itself into the crook of your neck. Finally, you risk enough to get a good look at him, from the silky black hair, the perfectly trimmed facial hair and the elegant dip of his collar bones. And, oh, his pupils are dilated. For the first time, you discover a change in his unrelenting gaze. 

The gold retracts, giving way to the swallowing blackness of his pupil, as his eyebrows furrow in confusion at the situation at hand. You'd be confused too, if you didn't feel the tell-tale buzzing forming in your guts, low in your stomach. Your tongue darts out again, wetting your lips, and with undeniable satisfaction you watch his gaze flicker downwards. 

- Is there something else you want? - his eyes snap back up at the husky tone of your voice, and you give him just a tiny ghost of a smirk.

He recoils immediately, albeit, never taking the arm off of your body.

- I am not some teenage boy who can't control his urges - he sounds almost offended, as he straightens himself, and fixes you with a stern glare. 

Too bad. His previous slip-up has already filled your head with devious ideas, which in turn, sparked a sudden flame of confidence. So, with a self-assured smile, you lean back, finally finding your footing, only to raise one of your legs, purposefully running your calf the length of his thigh. His breath hitches ever so slightly, evident more by the movement of his Adam's apple, than any sound. Then, you reach your prize, your knee knocking into something that could only be described as a sizeable erection.

- My research says otherwise, sir. - you counter with a pointed look, and the man before you freezes in his spot. 

Time seems to slow down and stretch like taffy, as the man continues to stare at you, thoughts running through his head. Oh, how much you'd give to know them all. Will he kill you, you wonder as your eyes dart around the small creases forming on his forehead. Will he kiss you, his lips are parted and invitingly plush. Will there be more, your eyes follow the lines of muscles exposed under his unbuttoned coat. 

At first you don't even notice, when he had taken his arm back. That is until you feel him take a firm grab of the back of your head, gathering the roots of your hair in his grasp. There is no denying the choked whine that escapes you, as he cranes your head back, nor is there a point denying the groan he gives out at your reaction. 

An unspoken understanding blooms between the two of you, both of you suddenly knowing exactly how this encounter will end. For your part, you were more than excited, breathing heavily, as your mind became foggy from the feeling of his fingers in your hair. And if his darkened eyes and slight blush dusting the highest points of his cheekbones were any indication, you seemed to have similar effect on the man. 

- For all the research you seem to be doing - your brain feels hot and heavy in your skull, as you try to shift your focus onto his words, and not the way his lips curled into something akin of a smirk - There's one thing you didn't bother to check, did you?

All you can do is stare at him blankly. his other hand starts to toy with the necklace, turning it in his palm. 

- Have you checked, if my necklace is made of gold? - he asks matter-of-factly, tilting his head to the side. 

Your mouth opens and closes, no words coming out, as you continue to stare with growing confusion. Then, a glint of a golden cross catches your attention, as the man moves it higher for you to see. 

- Did you check it? - he accentuates his words, and you shiver under his intense gaze.

You shake your head no, and your neck feels as if it's made of lead.

- Use your words, thief.

- No

You don't recognize your voice, so meek and small. 

Then, all thoughts leave your head, because he lifts the lover tip of the cross and places it on top of your lower lip, pressing slightly, and watching with fascination as the cold metal creates a small indent in the plush flesh. 

- Check it.

Again, your brain seems to be moving in slow motion, but when it catches on, a glint of mischief swirls in your eyes. You open your mouth, let the necklace land on your lower teeth, and then, craning your neck, you bite down, like a good thief that you are. 

It's gold alright. Albeit, the part currently between your teeth seems to be hollowed out. Your brows knit for a second, as this new information registers in your mind. So you were right before, the small indent is meant to separate one piece of the necklace from the other. 

With a slowly blooming smirk, you let your tongue dart out swirling over the metal. The man's eyes widen ever so slightly, and he pulls back at the necklace. With some fight, you let it go, but not before giving it another lick, this one much more suggestive and pointed. 

- You're a devil of a woman - Mihawk breathes, before untangling his other hand from your hair. 

Both hands now, he grips the necklace, and your mouth runs dry at the sight of his fingers smearing your saliva onto the metal. And then he pulls. Your heartbeat momentarily quickens, as your eyes register another form of metal glistening in the dim light. 

A knife. Small but incredibly sharp, your body starts to shiver but it's not out of fear. He drops the other part of the necklace into his pocket, and gathers the front of your shirt into a tight grip. Your breath hitches, as you feel the tip of the knife slide up under your clothes. It scratches a path from your navel, up to your collarbones, and as the material bunches, the man suddenly yanks the blade upwards. Your entire body jumps from the wall, and your squeak of surprise is accompanied by the loud tearing of your shirt's material. 

You fall back against the bricks, and Mihawk leans onto his heels as if he's appreciating an art piece.

- Now we match - you manage to breathe out.

He humms, deep in his chest, and as suddenly as he just tore your clothes off, he dives towards you, open mouth landing right between your breasts.

The moan he wretches from you would be embarrassing if you could only bring yourself to care. But you can't, not when his hot tongue traces patterns all across your stomach, stopping to swirl around each one of your nipples. Like a man starved, he drinks you in, hands pushing and pulling against your hips in a rythmn, that feels more and more like a promise of what's to come. 

Your hands flail at your sides, desperate to find any sort of purchase. Fingernails scarpe against the bricked wall, as Mihawk's stubble tickles a path from your collar bones and up your throat, stopping for a moment, to give a few nips to the skin just below your ear. Another whine is wrenched from you, as the man places an open mouthed kiss to the scrape your previous encounter with the surface of the table has left on your skin. Then, finally, he pulls back for just a moment, drinking in the sight of your heaving chest and the redness which has engulfed your entire face.

- Beautiful - he concludes in the same, steady tone, as if he's stating an obvious fact, not paying a compliment.

It works on you all the same, and with a gasp, you lurch forward, your lips forcefully colliding with his. The kiss is deep and filled with passion you're not sure you've ever felt in your entire life. As his mouth and tongue work the insides of yours, you feel him slide his hand from your hips to the front, fingers pulling with urgency at the laces of your breeches. You can only pray, that there's no one taking a midnight stroll through the streets, as another loud moan escapes you. He does his best to swallow it, but something tells you he takes immense pride in the reactions you give him, as his efforts at keeping you quiet are haphazard at best.

Then, after finally winning the battle with your lacing, his hand pushes itself into your undergarments. Your head smacks back against the wall, when he begins to touch you where you need him the most. Expert fingers find your bundle of nerves in an instant, but before you get too carried away, one of your arms encircles his wrist.

Mihawk tilts his head, an unspoken question clear in his golden gaze.

- No time - you pant out, and for a moment worry, he doesn't quite register your words, with the way his focus shifts immediately to your swollen lips - No time, just... Just fuck me, Mihawk.

That seems to reach him just fine, because as soon as the words leave you, his arms shoot out towards his pants. He makes quick work of the massive belt buckle, and with impatient hands yanks his erection out of his underwear. You'd lie, if you said the view didn't worry you just a little bit. But excitement was your drug of choice, and right now you felt as if you could explode at any given moment. With shaky hands, you try to shimmy out of your pants. Seeing your rather clumsy efforts, Mihawk stops you. 

With half-lidded eyes you watch him kneel down in front of you, gently pulling your breeches down, before lifting each of your feet, so you could step out of them. 

- I think I like seeing you like this - you comment, as he leans forward to kiss the space under your right knee. 

- The view from here is also quite spectacular - he counters, kissing up your thigh and making you gasp, as his stubble presses into the mound of flesh just below your stomach. 

Still, there is no time, so you reach down towards his shoulder, and pull him up. 

- Please - you whisper against his lips, and who is he, to deny a lady in need. 

Lifting one of your legs in a tight grip, finally, his hips snap up, filling you to the brim. Your muscles tense, as you try to accommodate his size. To his credit, he stays still, face pressed into the crook of your neck, where you can feel his strained breath. Finally, you let yourself relax. tapping him on the shoulder, to let him know he can continue. 

And continue he does, slowly at first, dragging your body from the wall every time he retracts, only to come back in with an agonizing pace. You don't really know who's more frustrated at that point, because as soon, as you try to wriggle your hips more, to force him to pick up the pace, all resolve seems to dissapear. His hand grips your thigh even harder, enough to leave a reminder for the later days. The other tangles itself into your hair, pulling at the strands. And then he truly puts in work, hips snapping in a punishing pace that makes your back scrape against the brick wall. You hide your face in his coat, inhaling his scent and praying that the thick material will be sufficient at muffling your moans of pleasure. 

There's pressure, building steadily in your guts, and it doesn't take you long, to feel the band snap somewhere deep inside you. Your muscles tense and your eyes roll back, as you begin to shudder in his grasp, knees giving out completely, so only his own strength is saving you from colliding with the floor. Soon, he follows with a low grunt, nearly toppling over, when his own release hits him. 

His arm holds you close to him, as he uses the other one to steady himself against the wall. Both of you are panting heavily, none of you ready to move just yet. You rest your cheek against his chest, and feel him press his face to the top of your head, inhaling your scent as if this wasn't just a quick dalliance in a dark alley. 

- You should get back to your friend - Mihawk's voice is muffled by your hair - They must be dreading all the atrocities I could've bestowed upon you.

You laugh breathlessly, finally pushing him back and appreciating the flush on his cheeks, and the way his hair has flown out of place from under that impressive hat.

- Yes, those atrocities have been very great indeed. 

***

Your friend sits alone at the same table you've left them. Their head is hidden in their hands, and three empty bottles litter the space before them. It seems they have already started to mourn your untimely death. 

The inside of the bar has quieted down, as the closing hours began to loom over the patrons, a few stragglers still hanging around the bar, sowly finishing their respective drinks. 

Unceremoniously, you sit down right in front of your friend, wincing ever so slightly at the discomfort still lingering in your muscles, kicking their leg under the table and watching them nearly jump out of their seat with fright. 

- You... - their eyes have a difficulty focusing on your face, but when they do, it's like the heavens have opened before them. - You're alive!

Your eyes are glowing, and your face is still blushed from your previous encounter. You lean forward with a brilliant smile, hands slapping onto the wooden table.

- So - you can't help but laugh - About fucking with him...

EDDIE MUNSON in STRANGER THINGS SEASON FOUR.

"This is my year. I can feel it. Eighty-six baby!"