manakoko

[manakoko]

contains; smut, big dicks, your fave x reader, size kink, stomach bulge, gn reader + you/your, finger sucking, thigh slapping + rubbing, fingering(m or f), creampie, 18+ / sexual content, grammar mistakes (?), not proofread

notes; gn reader !!! (⁠っ⁠.⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠っ

MALES who slap your thigh, slapping the skin on you, his palm spanking it, he rubs your skin softly afterwards, spanking as he does so. His calloused hands, his has your legs on the side of his.

HE blows into your ear, his dick aches behind you, a big bulge twitching on your ass as it begs to be set free from its confinements, he very soft grinds his huge bulge against you.

HE brings his finger up to your lip, his thumb rubbing against your lips, as he puts his thumb in your mouth, your mouth wraps around his thumb. Sucking on her finger, wetting his digit with your saliva.

HE kisses your ear, his mouth on the shell of your ear, pressing his lips on it, behind your ear as well. He brings his thumb up to his mouth and licks off your saliva

HE wets his finger and brings down to your hole, his digit slowly going in you, curling his finger inside of your hole. His finger exploring your hole, bringing in another finger. Stretching your hole for his huge dick as it aches behind you.

HE grabs ahold his meaty cock, his hand gripping it as he strokes himself, using his pre-cum as lube, he fingers you while stroking his dick. He gathers some of his pre-cum and rubs it against your hole, smearing it around your hole and in you.

HE finally goes in you, filling you up with his dick, his big dick slowly going in you, tears developing in your eyes. You are only taking half of his dick, you pant out and he pushes down. Impaling you with his cock, you can see a giant bump in your stomach.

HE thrusts into you, you watch as the bump in your stomach moves with his dick moving in you, a bulge showing how big he is. He groans into your ear, his voice slightly growling as he does so.

HE rubs your thighs, he hooks his hands under your legs and thrusts up into you, his breath on your ear while he fucks you, his dick getting gripped by your walls. Your hole sucking him in.

HE moves.more faster in you, throwing his head back slightly, he lets out small moans, growling as he moves more faster, he whispers in your ear, whispering how good you take him and how good you are.

HE holds you close, sucking on your neck also nibbling on your neck, your eyes roll back. Your legs shake and your heart races, your hands grip at his arms, nails digging into his skin. Your mouth opens, letting out a silent scream, your hole clenches around him, you climax.

HE fucks you more faster, his big dick twitching in you, it makes clapping noises as he goes harder, your ass hitting his pelvis, his dick hits all the spots in you, he growls into your ear before his dick pumps. Semen being dumped in your hole, it goes past his dick. He slaps your side before making out with you, he grins and rubs your hips. Praising you for taking him so well and being so good for him.

— Wriothesley, Alhaitham, Itto, Boothill, Blade, Toji, Nanami, Aiku, Barou, Noa Noel + your faves !

[manakoko]

tokyo revengers ⇢ YOU’RE TOO DRUNK TO RECOGNIZE YOUR BOYFRIEND

ft. manjiro “mikey” sano, ken “draken” ryuguji, keisuke baji, takashi mitsuya, rindou haitani, ran haitani & shuji hanma

warnings: alcohol and a very hammered reader. the boys are more responsible than you <3

this is one of the rare occurrences wherein MIKEY actually shares his food. when you’ve finally given up on fighting him for the last bottle of alcohol, you start whining about your sudden hunger so he slides his plate of nachos over to you. he watches you eye it for a second before you drag your gaze up to him. “i have a boyfriend you know?” you tell him, your attempt to be menacing coming out pathetically as the attitude dripping from your tone is dampened by your slurred speech. mikey doesn’t need the club to be well lit. the strobe lights already illuminate your face enough for him to get a clear view of your glassy eyes and flushed cheeks. “i know,” he confirms with a tinge of exasperation, “because it’s me. mikey. your boyfriend.” he emphasizes his last words, his last effort to knock some sense into you but you only let out a cackle which catches him off guard. “nice try but mikey never shares his food.”

“that’s enough.” DRAKEN snatches the last of your many drinks for the night before you can gulp it down. being the perceptive boyfriend he is, he can already hear the complaint that’s about to slip from your tongue so he’s quick to pull you by the wrist, up from your seat and out the door. “where are you taking me?” you ask as clearly as your drunken state can let you—not so much but enough for your boyfriend to understand. “home.” at his curt reply, you yank your hand from his grip with a strength that startles even toman’s former vice president. “what the hell are you doing?” draken hisses lest you make a scene in public. “i’m calling my boyfriend,” you warn him, “bet he can kick your ass.” “yeah? i’d like to see him try.” he dismisses your empty threat, reaching for you once more to guide you to the exit but upon hearing a few whispers from prying strangers who are clearly getting the wrong idea, he stops in his tracks and turns to no one in particular, no longer caring about whatever commotion he may cause as his voice booms over the loud music: “i’m the boyfriend!”

“let me go!” you relentlessly thrash around, yelling out threats of calling your boyfriend, while BAJI—the boyfriend in question—pulls you into an empty alleyway to avoid any possible public humiliation for the both of you. “fuck,” he huffs out a breath, “when did you get this strong?” some time in the night, he’s tuned you out telling him off, on a sole mission to stop you from drinking more than you already have. and he’s relieved he managed to get you out of the bar—that is until he hears a weird noise coming from you. “wh-” baji doesn’t get the chance to utter a single word as you begin to throw up. in a panic, he hastily puts your hair up with his spare tie before rubbing soothing circles on your back. your hair looks real messy, he notes, but that’s the least of his worries. “you feeling better?” he checks on you after a while, only to be met by more retching, making him grumble to himself, “and i get an earful when i drink too much.”

MITSUYA is helping you get on your feet—sweet boyfriend he is—but as soon as you find your footing, you give him a hefty shove. “i have a boyfriend, jackass!” you seethe, too drunk to recognize him, and all he can do is sigh as he regains his balance. “yes. me.” something clicks in your brain at his response and you squint your eyes to get a better look at him. “takashi?” “hi, love.” and just like that, you perk up, your mouth stretching into a wide grin. “taka,” you squeal, excitement coursing through your veins when you recognize your boyfriend, “hiiiii~” he laughs at the shift in your tone and takes the opportunity to slide an arm around your waist once more. “let’s get you home okay?” “mhm.” you wrap your arms around him and he lifts you with ease. mitsuya assumes you’re fast asleep until a few minutes later, you mumble something against his skin, “someone tried to flirt with me but i said no.” a chuckle bubbles past his lips as he adjusts his hold on you. “really?” “mhm,” you nod into his neck as you snuggle closer, “i only love you.” “i love you more.” “love you most,” you reply before soft snores fall from your lips and your breathing evens out.

you’re rambling about RINDOU to rindou himself, going on and on about the reasons that made you fall in love with him. and while you’re occasionally interrupted by your hiccups, he patiently listens to your every word then he hears a “but.” the ways you describe him next are less flattering, less romantic—how he tries so hard to act indifferent to your cooing as if the tips of his ears don’t instantly turn red. or how he has a permanent scowl etched on his face. and other things you already tell him even when you’re sober. “he’s really lucky he doesn’t have any wrinkles yet,” you add with a giggle. “you’re really annoying when you’re drunk, you know that?” despite the lack of lighting in the club, rindou doesn’t miss the shock washing over you, your eyes getting mistier by the second. “what?” your voice comes out shaky and your bottom lip starts to wobble, making rindou release another groan. “for fuck’s sake.”

in spite of your insistence to stay at the club, RAN easily managed to drag you to his car. this isn’t his first rodeo. as an older brother, he has had to deal with rindou when he was blackout drunk. “where are we going?” you mumble as you begin to stir in the passenger seat. “home.” “i wanna see ran.” your boyfriend throws you a quick glance—your eyes remain closed and the rest of your words are incomprehensible—before he focuses back on the road. amused by your drunken state, he plays along. “alright, we’re going to ran.” the stretch of silence that follows is cut short when you speak again, “i’m thirsty.” so ran makes a quick stop at a convenience store, coming back shortly with a bottle in hand. he unscrews the cap before he gives you the drink, “careful.” you take a big gulp, instantly grimacing at the taste and it elicits a snort from your boyfriend. “what is this?” “water.”

“want more,” you slur. across from you, HANMA watches as you clumsily reach for the empty shot glasses on the table, flipping them upside down as if more alcohol will magically appear. he’s not going to lie—he finds it funny. entertaining, even. and if the circumstances were any different, he would’ve even encouraged this behavior. but he’s your boyfriend now and if there’s one thing he truly cares about, it’s you. drunk out of your wits, you don’t notice when hanma slides out of the booth until he’s soon presenting two more glasses to you. even though the contents are the same, he asks you to choose, “which one?” “hmm… that.” before you can get your hands on your drink, hanma intercepts and downs it in one go. you’re about to protest when he throws you over his shoulder and chugs the other drink out of your sight before heading for the exit. “let’s go.”

[manakoko]

Genshin Men + Reaction to Sexy Underwear

Pairing: Kaeya, Diluc, Itto, Thoma, Ayato, Childe, Pantalone, Dottore, Capitano, Al-Haitham, Kaveh, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, lingerie, panties to the side, cum marking, hickies, cock riding

A/N: Looks really pretty on people but boxers are my thing more than anything. Unless you count those as sexy underwear.

TAKE THEM OFF YOU - Diluc, Thoma, Ayato, Al-Haitham, Zhongli

Those look so pretty on you, so pretty that he doesn't want to risk ruining them in his need to take them off and fuck you right this damn second. Don't act like you didn't expect it. You knew when you put that on that his dick would get as hard as a rock. That kind of clothing, if it can even be called that, belongs on the floor now, and you belong on his cock, bouncing up and down like the pretty lady he always known you to be.

FUCK YOU WITH THEM ON - Kaeya, Itto, Pantalone, Neuvillette

Shame to take those off when you bought and wore it for this special night with him. He doesn't need to remove any of it, he just needs to hook your panties with his thumb, move them to the side and push his cock in. See? There's no problem at all. Yes he could have torn them off you but that would be such a waste of your new lingerie. Now he can have a clear path on which he can suck on, always just above the line, his hickies always just a little visible on you.

COME ALL OVER THEM - Childe, Dottore, Kaveh, Wriothesley

He's already rubbing his cock when you strip down to your underwear. Those look so pretty on you, they would look even prettier if you'd lay down and let him mark you and your lingerie with his cum. Go ahead and spread your legs all you want, you really want his cum in your pussy don't you, grinding up against his cock like that. He needs to take it slower, he needs to start at your breasts, let you have a small taste of his cum first, then he can move further down, leave a white trail of cum down your stomach until he lets it all out.

[manakoko]

~warnings: pussyeating, squirting, overstimulation, fem! reader, pussydrunk!Wriothesley, MDNI!

Pussydrunk!Wriothesley loves when you sit on his face. It's his favorite position. You smothering his face with your weight turns him on more. He usually gets too into it that he overstimulates you. When you try getting up, his beefy, strong arms wrap around your thighs, holding you in place as he continues to eat. You try moving but you just end up grinding on his face, his nose hitting your clit as he sucks on your hole. It causes you to squirt on his face, but he doesn't mind. That was his plan all along. Pussydrunk!Wriothesley loves when you squirt on his face. He groans into your pussy every time you do. He eagerly laps it up and continues his meal. You're usually blabbing nonsense at this time, mind breaking and tears running down your cheeks from the sweet pleasure he keeps giving you. Eventually, you cant keep your upper body up much longer and he notices. This is when he detaches his mouth from your pussy and you sigh in relief, glad to finally have a break. He helps you lay down on the bed and makes sure you're comfortable. Once he does, he opens your legs and he lays down between them, getting comfortable himself. He places his mouth back on your pussy, going back to feasting like he's a starving man enjoying his favorite meal. You are of course his favorite meal. Pussydrunk!Wriothesley loves when you close your thick, beautiful thighs around his head, almost like you're trying to crush his head, which he wouldn't mind. You comb your fingers through his hair, nails softly scratching his scalp causing him to groan into your pussy. The extra stimulation to your pussy causes you to pull his hair, making him groan more. Pussydrunk!Wriothesley loves when you can't decide whether to push his head away or pull him closer, looking for more stimulation, which he is more than happy to give. When you pull his head closer with your hands as you wrap your legs around his head, heels of your feet digging into his back, he takes this as a sign to up the pleasure. You cry out in pleasure as you once again fall over the edge, squirting on his face and tightening your beautiful thighs around his head. Your legs eventually grow weak, not being able to stay wrapped around his head anymore, making him whine in disappointment. Pussydrunk!Wriothesley loves to put his rough hands on the back of your thighs, pressing them against your chest, opening you wider for him. Your mind is too numb from the pleasure to care about the embarrassing position he put you in. He latches his mouth to your pussy, sucking and licking and using his tongue to explore your insides. You have no where to go as he uses his incredible strength to hold you down. Pussydrunk!Wriothesley loves when you cry and scream out as you once again squirt on his face. He shakes his head as he continues to suck and rub his nose against your clit. You squirt over and over as he doesn't stop. He finally stops and removes his mouth. He looks up at you, breathing deeply as your juices drip from his chin. Your thighs slightly shake as you try to steady your breathing. He wipes the tears from your cheeks and leaves a kiss on your forehead. He lays down, gently wraps his strong arms around you, and holds you close. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, praising you for doing so well as he rubs your back. It doesn't take you long to fall asleep. He admires your adorable, sleeping face for a while until he kisses the top of your head and closes his eyes. Pussydrunk!Wriothesley can't wait until you two can do this again later.

[manakoko]

I Love How You Feel in My Hands

♡♡-Request: Wriothesley with a small-er reader. Obsessed with how much bigger he is than her. Gets horny from it.

Content: Bj (wrio receiving), fem!reader, size kink/difference, throat bulge, light choking, face fucking, deep throating, mdni. (Picture collage is mine, feel free to use if you want♡)

"Wrio, are you even listening?" Your soft, plump lips pouted at him. Small hands, compared to his arms, held on tight. Shaking him slightly as you tried to tell him the fun exciting thing that had happened today! But he wasn't paying attention, he couldn't. He was hyper focused on how truly small you were compared to him. His body towered over you, the top of your head level with his chest. How your hands, even while using both, couldn't fully wrap around his arm let alone his-

"Wrio!" You said a little louder, your brows furrowed a little. Hands now placed on your hips, only adding fuel to the small fire growing in his stomach. 

"Sorry, Sweetheart. You're distracting me." He said easily, like this confession was always on the tip of his tongue. When you looked at him with confusion, it only made him chuckle. Lifting his large hand to brush his knuckles against your cheek. "I can't get over how small you are. Makes me fucking horny baby." His hands slid down, lightly wrapping around your neck. Applying light pressure, watching as you gasped, your chest rising with the inhale of breath. Wriothesley's thumb slowly pressed against your bottom lip, letting it snap back into place with a small bounce. "What do you think we should do about that?" 

Your eyelashes fluttered as you looked up at him, saying nothing as your tongue darted out, licking the pad of his thumb. He sucked in a breath, "Fuck-yeah? You wanna suck me off?" When you nodded your head, Wriothesley simply chuckled, pushing his thumb further into your mouth. "Show me how much." Your teeth soon grazed against the digit, swirling your tongue around before sucking gently. Mimicking how you'd tend to his dick. He gave a breathless chuckle, "I shouldn't be surprised. Always need something in that mouth of yours." He spoke as if he wasn't the one who jump started this interaction. Keening for the feel of your precious lips wrapped around him. You only gave him a small shrug, continuing to run your wet muscle along his salty skin. 

He hummed, using one hand to undo the button on his pants. Sliding down the zipper, freeing his massive cock. 

And it wasn't even said just to brag, he was a great deal bigger than any other partner you had. You managed to barely get half down his length before choking; you loved it though. And so did he. "Get on your knees," he mumbled. Slipping his thumb out from between your lips. Eyes glued to the way a string of spit connected. 

With the same hand, he urged you downwards, applying some pressure to your shoulder. You kneeled, hands resting on his still clothed thigh as you nuzzled against his cock. His big hands petting your head, a half smile on his face. "I know how much you love it but don't make me wait too long baby." 

He threaded his fingers into your hair, twisting the strands around his wrist before pulling you closer. Rubbing his tip on your pretty lips, smearing pre like it was chapstick. 

"Open up," he tapped it, slowly sliding himself in when you parted your lips. Groaning in satisfaction as soon as your little mouth stretched around his girth. The hot, wet heat of your tongue sliding around sent a warmth to his stomach. Making his balls heavy, with the seed that he would inevitably shoot down your throat. "That's it, gonna push in more now." Wriothesley pulled you closer, inching you down his length until your nose was buried in his trimmed bush. You choked and gagged, saliva forming quickly in your mouth and leaked out. Your throat constricting, squeezing him made him hiss, eyes screwing shut as he fought the urge to immediately fuck your mouth. He would, eventually. As much as he loved the size difference, he didn't want to hurt you. And he would if he didn't give your throat time to prepare.

His hand reaching down, massaging your throat, feeling the bulge where his cock curved down. 

"Aww, it feels like your poor little throat could explode any second." He pressed down, feeling himself twitch before he pulled back. Feeling his length rub against the inside of your throat, leaving just the tip before shoving himself back inside. His fingers held tight to your hair as he fucked your mouth. Balls slapping against your chin as you choked, your throat burning but it was such a delicious feeling you didn't care. Your nails digging into the fabric of his pants as you simply took it. Watching as the man above you lost himself to how tight your throat felt. 

Knowing he'd more than likely use your pussy the same way later.

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[manakoko]

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 ### : 」 Modern AU, an incredible attraction to Wrio's hands, established relationship, reader just finds every single aspect of your boyfriend hot, even the parts that he doesn't even realize could be considered hot.

if u guess which kpop idol inspired me to write this ill platonically kiss you

its so fucking dumb. It's such a small, teeny tiny detail, but you can't help how heart-eyes-no-thoughts you get when he does it.

"Wrio?"

"Yeah baby, what's up?"

He glances up from his phone just for you, though you can see the way messages continue to fly in the group chat. Probably Furina, you think. Maybe even Neuvillette. You've put your own phone on silent to not receive the barrage of texts while your own phone auto-pilots a game on the table. Wriothesley will probably inform you on all the latest happenings later on, anyway. You slide your soda can his way, an apologetic look on your face.

"Can you open this for me? It's more trouble than usual."

"Sure, no problem babe." And his smile is so cute. The one where you can see a little bit of his fangs, that makes the little dimple on the side of his face show though.

He takes the can with his free hand, the other still holding his phone. He turns his attention back just as another series of rapid-fire texts comes though, and you even see some memes and voice messages thrown in for good measure.

With his attention still on the group chat, not looking up as he scans through the latest developments, Wriothesley easily flicks open the tab of the can single handedly and pops in open for you with ease. He doesn't hesitate, too used to doing this on a regular basis, but archons it's so stupid but the way he does it just does something for you. He slides it back nonchalantly, and you try not to make how you're desperately attracted to him quite so obvious.

"Thanks," you tell him, not meeting his eyes.

"Happy to help, sweetheart," Wriothesley says, looking up once more. His smile is soft, the way it always is when he looks at you, and it has something going gooey inside your chest. Until that smile becomes something more teasing, and his brow quirks up in amusement.

"So... me opening cans for you with just one hand, huh?"

[manakoko]

HONEY N' ICE

wriothesley x sub!fem!reader. nsfw content. bondage. sensory deprivation (blindfold). temperature play. fingering (f. receiving). meanie wriothesley.

"plea— please !"

your back arched off the bed as you came for what felt like the hundredth time that night. wriothesley was ruthless. he had no plans of showing you any mercy any time soon.

"come on, you can do it" he said, pushing your legs so far apart your muscles began to burn. "i know you can"

your hands jerked down, yanking against the silver metal handcuffs securing your wrists to the headboard above you. you were left in the dark, a blindfold tightly tied over your eyes. it made you feel a million times more sensitive to even the tiniest touch from wriothesley.

"no—" you gasped, as long fingers inserted themselves into your sopping cunt once again "no, i can't"

you heard wriothesley hum, not being able to see what he was doing was driving you crazy. you heard the clinking of ice against a glass. you were foolish to think that perhaps he was just taking a drink. it wasn't even a second later you felt a freezing cold cute of ice on your lower stomach.

"wrio— !!" you called out in surprise, as his moved the ice cube lower down your body, it began melting quickly against your hot skin. "o-oh !" your your body tensed and flinched as he rubbed the cube in circles around your puffy clit.

you heard him chuckle above you, "you like that ?" his question was rhetorical, of course you like it ? why else would your sweet cunt be fluttering around nothing ?

"o-oh please !! please i can't take anymore" your whines were desperate as you began pleading with him again. wriothesley only chuckled again, amused by your pathetic state. even more amused by the squeal you let out as he pushed his fingers into your hole again, still cold from the ice cube.

his fingers curled inside you, strong fingers abusing the oh so sensitive part of your spongy walls. rough and calloused fingers felt like fire inside of you, curling and thrusting inside of you until another nearly painful orgasm was ripped from your body.

you cried out again, tugging hard on the cuffs around your wrists. "please !! please, please please !!" your hips jerked up, twitching and squirming at the feeling that was hardly pleasurable anymore.

wriothesley moved up the bed, thumb hooking under the cloth of the blindfold, your eyes took a moment to adjust to the room. once your eyes focused, you saw wriothesley's face right in front of yours. he was grinning wildly at you, his teeth bared made the smile seem more menacing than anything else. "there you are, sweetheart. welcome back"

your chest rose and fell at a rapid pace, trying hard to catch your breath. "a-are we done ?" you asked, it sounded less like a question and more like a beg. a desperate prayer that he's finally done with you.

wriothesley laughed at your words. "done ?! done ?" his tone was mocking "oh, you're so delightfully stupid, my darling"

"i've barely even started with you"

[manakoko]

Rough Interrogation Session with Wriothesley

Pairing: Wriothesley x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, dub-con, rough sex, creampie, handcuffs, getting captured, enemies who fuck, body betrayal, aftercare, kissing, clit stimulation, pregnancy mention, degradation, name calling, size kink

A/N: I... yeah... uhm... I have needs and he can fulfill them.

Wriothesley was never gentle with you when you crossed paths and it was how you preferred it. You never wanted him to go easy on you because you were sure you would never break, even if captured, no matter what he did to get the truth out of you. You were ready for yelling, arguments, teasing him and getting his cock hard with your words alone just like always but you never expected him to do anything about it. He never did, but he seemed more then fed up with you now.

"Think I'm gonna tolerate a disrespectful little bitch? You've had it easy for long enough sweetheart, now you need to be honest with me. And if you my words won't convince you then maybe I can fuck it out of you. Or your brains out. Which ever is first."

The handcuffs were cold, hard and impossible to break out of, binding your hands behind the interrogation chair, leaving you with no way to stop him from spreading your legs. With the way your heart beat against your chest you were sure you were gonna pass out before you felt his dick. Such a shame because you wanted it since you saw him, since you first ran from him. It was a lot bigger then you thought, enough to split you open if he wasn't careful, and Wriothesley didn't look like he was in the careful mood. Your panties ripped to shreds you had no way of covering up the fact that your pussy drooled for him and the anticipation of his cock. It was shameful, the feeling settled in your cheeks, in your chest but it also made you wetter.

"Show a whore a cock and she folds right away. So predictable. Nu-uh, no use trying to hide it, you dry humped me more then once while we were fighting. Now you finally get what you want, your punishment for not collaborating. Fact is, you could have made this easy, you could have told me what I wanted to know, but no, you have to be a little slut, you have to get fucked by me. It's what you secretly needed all this time."

Like you thought, he's not gentle, he's not caring, his cock balls deep inside you, his hands leaving imprints on your legs. With the strength he was thrusting into you it was wonder that the chair didn't break. It was either the chair or you. He didn't care which one it was honestly, because regardless you wouldn't be able to get away. This was a different kind of intensity from him then you're used to, you could slowly feel your mind going blank, pussy squeezing around him and at the same time hating how much you wondered what it would be like to be filled with cum. Wriothesley's cum, inside you, stuffing you full. No, you couldn't, you shouldn't bend to his will, you couldn't let him win this.

"No? No? Why are you lying to yourself? Telling my no but squeezing me with that tight little hole. Stop denying it, you want to be my cumslut don't you? Every time I thrust your cunt gets tighter, it doesn't want my cock to leave. Quit being stubborn when your body, your mind, your heart and your cunt keep saying yes, yes, yes, fuck!"

You had the urge to lock your legs closed but his body was in the way, so instead it made it seem like you were pulling him closer. You hated to admit it but you were, you wanted him closer despite everything and he obliged. Almost too softly he pressed his lips against yours as he moved his cock in and out, the tip never getting all the way out but that way okay, you didn't want him to. And that right there, that realization made you whimper for him. So embarrassing, how easy it was for him to make you come. Wriothesley leaned his forehead against yours, hands moving up and down your legs before his fingers pressed against your clit, your hips reacting on their own, grinding as best as you could.

"Not saying no anymore are you? Thought so. I'm not done yet. I'm not gonna be done until you're nice and full. Oh, you though I would let you go already? No, I'm gonna take you home after this, I'll make you mine, and only after this pretty belly is round and pregnant will I send you crawling back to your lackies so they can see you spend months with my cock inside of you."

[manakoko]

++ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

[summary] wrio’s spouse winds up in prison. special treatment ensues.

[cws] gender neutral reader. fluff.

“What you did was incredibly stupid.”

“I’d like to think it was very brave, actually.” You quip back, lips pursed as you turn up your chin. “You should be proud of me, really.”

“I should be proud that you got yourself thrown in prison?” You don’t have to look up to know that Wriothesley is sporting an incredulous expression. “Did they knock your head around a bit before bringing you down here?”

“You’re acting like I murdered someone.” You finally meet his gaze, and you resist the urge to sink down into your seat at the clear disapproval in his eyes. “All I did was—”

“Break into the Opera Epiclese and destroy government property.”

“That’s such a trumped-up charge!” You huff and roughly cross your arms over your chest, eyes narrowing as you think back on the charges that had been slapped down onto you by that damned archon. “You trip in the dark and accidentally fall into the oratrice and all of a sudden you’re a criminal. Hmph!”

“Yeah, exactly. It also doesn’t help that you broke in—”

“—I left my bracelet in there after the trial! Was I just supposed to leave it behind and potentially lose it forever? The condition of the lost and found in that place is downright terrible—the guards pocket all the good stuff.”

“You could have bought another one.”

“Not like this one.” You look down to the gray bracelet encircling your wrist, and a warmth spreads in your chest as you gently twist it around, finger rubbing over the messily written engraving on the inside of it. “This was a gift.”

“Hardly.” He sighs, and your eyes flick up to watch as he runs his hands through his already messy hair. “It’s just scrap metal I bent up and welded because I couldn’t buy you proper jewelry back when I was a prisoner.” It’s his turn to look at the bracelet.

“You were so creative back then.” You smile a bit wider. “I remember you used to have something new made every time I came to visit you. What was that one thing you made? The one that we painted together?”

“The ballerina music box.” He groaned, looking a bit embarrassed, and you snapped your fingers.

“The ballerina music box!” The ballerina was a bit oddly shaped, and the box had sharp corners on one side and rounded on the other, and the song the box played was distorted and sounded more creepy than relaxing due to some disfigured cogs, but you loved it nonetheless, and had even sobbed in thanks when he had first presented the gift to you. “I love that little box.”

“It looks like a child made it.”

“A child in the throes of eleazar, yes,” you nod, and his mouth opens a bit in surprise before he huffs out a laugh. “But I still love it… because you made it.” You give him a sweet smile, and you can see him soften up before your very own eyes; broad shoulders losing that rigidness, lids lowering, crease between his dark, thick brows disappearing.

“You’re tryin’ to butter me up.”

“Mhm,” you nod. “Is it working?”

“Not at all, jailbird.” He gives you a smile of his own, and despite the clear sarcasm in it, you can’t help the little flutter your heart does at the sight. “No special treatment for you.” So he says, yet he had placed a cup of tea down for you the moment you were brought to his office, and had even tried to inconspicuously nudge the basket of cookies in your direction, pretending not to notice when you reached for one. “Spouse or not.”

“What a mean man.” You slouch down in your seat. “I treasure the gifts that my lovely, amazing, strong, handsome, and so so so incredibly smart husband gives me and what do I get in return? A criminal record and unfair treatment! I’m suing the entire nation the moment I’m free!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand in the air as if fanning away the conversation, and now it’s your turn to huff. “For the few days that you’re here, you’ll be working directly with me in exchange for coupons.” He takes a slow sip of his tea, adams apple bobbing as he swallows, before gently setting the cup back down onto its small plate. “I’ll make your first job real easy to get you in the swing of things.”

“How kind of you.”

He just barely contains an amused smile. “Very. Now…” He shifts in his seat. “Give me a kiss.”

“I’m married, Your Grace.”

“I’m sure your husband won’t mind. Kiss. Now.” He taps a finger against his lips, and after a moment you stand up and round his desk, hands finding his shoulders as you bend at the waist so your noses brush.

“My husband is a very good fighter, by the way. When he finds out you twisted his spouses’s arm like this, he’ll pummel you.”

“I can handle him.” A hand snags you by the waist, forcing you down into his lap, and you only have time to let out a quiet yelp before Wriothesley’s lips are on yours. The kiss is slow, sensual, and it brings a warmth to your cheeks and covers you with a bashful cloak when he pulls back to let his eyes roam over your face. “I’ve gotta say… your husband is a real lucky guy to snatch up someone as cute as you.”

“Hmph. Seems like you’re trying to butter me up now.”

“Is it working?” He presses his face into your neck, his lips pulling into a smile against your skin, and you have to fight back one of your own.

“Not at all, jailbird.”

[manakoko]

how to disappear. (opla!zoro x fem!reader)

synopsis: joining luffy’s crew made you believe that you’d finally escaped your former pirate crew and nightmare of a captain for good. that is, until a certain butler starts to look a little too familiar. good thing zoro’s keeping a close eye on you.

warnings: opla spoilers (ep 3), some direct dialogue from opla, mentions of verbal/physical abuse, kuro is just a weirdo tbh, reader is called a bitch, protective zoro, for the sake of the story sham and buchie joined the black cat pirates after reader left

word count: 4.7k

“this guy is full of shit.”

you knock your shoulder into zoro’s wider one. “be nice. and so what if he is?” 

zoro gives you a pointed glare. “then we should turn around and look for someone who can actually help us find a ship.” 

“all business, as per usual,” you reply, with a purposefully dramatic sigh. “why can’t you have a little fun?” 

“what about this is supposed to be fun?” zoro spits out the word like it’s poisonous. “this is the blandest village i’ve ever seen.”

you scoff. “now you’re the one that’s full of shit. nothing’s ever bland with us and you know it.” 

the us in question was your newly formed pirate crew… if you and luffy could even be considered that. having left the ship you’d been on a few years ago, you were in search of a new crew. luffy was persistent and charming — when you’d crossed paths in shells town, it took little to no time for him to convince you to join his hunt for the one piece. zoro and nami, on the other hand, had yet to follow in your footsteps. 

“well, considering that we’ve only been traveling together for a day and a half and i’ve already escaped a marine base, defeated a marine captain, and fought a clown with devil fruit powers… i’d actually have to agree.” 

you can’t help but giggle at his sarcastic delivery. “be grateful, zoro. not many pirate crews are this fun to be on, trust me. oh wait, that’s right, you still haven’t officially joined—”

“tell me about your old pirate crew,” interjects zoro, your comment having piqued his interest. 

you notice that the playful atmosphere dissipates. “god, where do i even start?” 

zoro answers that for you. “why did you leave?”

“starting with the hard hitting questions, huh?” you joke, mostly to stall. you clear your throat before you answer. “well, it was different. nothing like what luffy has going on. he actually cares about his crew… and even those who aren’t technically on it.” 

at that, a smile tugs at the corner of zoro’s lips. even you crack a small grin. although as you continue speaking, it fades. 

“on my old crew, we were dispensable. anytime something went wrong, our own captain would threaten to kill us. it was… scary, to be completely honest. there were so many times when i thought i’d die with that filthy crew. and i never wanted that. so as soon as we docked at shells town, i left.”  

zoro’s jaw clenches as imagines the things you’d seen and been subjected to. “this old captain of yours sounds like a real—”

“he was a nightmare,” you tell him. “he didn’t care that i was the only woman on board, he treated me just as horribly, if not worse.” 

zoro stops so suddenly that it takes you a minute to realize he’s not walking alongside you.

“what do you mean by that.” the way zoro phrases the inquiry doesn’t even make it sound like a question. more like a demand. his narrowed eyes are fixed solely on you. holding his gaze feels… intense. 

you can’t help but glance away as you answer him. “he was just a bit of a creep.”

before zoro has the chance to try and extract more information out of you, a familiar voice calls both your names. you’re not really sure when you and zoro had fallen behind but from where you currently stand, the rest of your group looks miniature. or perhaps it’s just the massive size of the mansion behind them that makes luffy, nami, and usopp look pocket-sized in comparison. 

“why’d you stop walking?!” your captain shouts, hands pressed on each side of his mouth to amplify his voice. “get over here, we’re about to go in through the top secret entrance!” 

you vaguely make out usopp gesturing for luffy to keep his voice down. you’re sure that would warrant another comment from zoro about his reliability but he’s too busy staring at you with that expectant look in his eyes. 

“we better catch up,” you tell him, heading in the direction of the deluxe home. 

he allows you to dodge the subject and sighs, walking in long strides to catch up to you.  

“i’ve never seen a house this big before,” luffy admits, admiring the mansion along with the wellkept greenery surrounding it. 

“awesome, right?” usopp gloats, walking around like he owned the place. “kaya’s given me an open invitation to drop by anytime i want.” 

“wow.” you’re not sure if luffy was just going along with usopp’s act or if he really believed him. knowing the devil fruit user, it was more than likely the latter. “all this for just one person?”

“well, she lives here with her butler and a few other staff,” usopp replies, leaning against the stone well that sat in the middle of the lawn.

“money really shows you who people truly are,” nami mutters, eyes scanning the property. “most people only care about themselves and what’s theirs.”

zoro is quick to throw the insult back at her. “sounds like someone i know.”

you roll your eyes at his comment, though you make no effort to disagree with him. nami was a little on the materialistic side. 

“and a small staff makes for easy pickings,” she continues, proving your point.

“we just got here and you’re already planning on robbing the place blind?” you ask though you already know the answer.

“at least a little blurry,” she smirks, following behind luffy and usopp who walk toward the entrance. 

you and zoro share a look. one that says disappointed but not surprised. 

going under a shrub shaped as an arch, you’re met with a beautiful pond. you admire the pink lilies that float at the top and the bushes that were intricately trimmed into the shape of various animals. even if the people that lived here were filthy rich, at least they had good decorative taste. 

“so if you have an invitation, why are we going around the back way?” luffy ponders.

usopp’s answer is nonchalant. “oh, i never use the front entrance. like i said, this is the vip entrance reserved for special guests.”

zoro scoffs. “this guy’s definitely–”

“don’t start,” you groan, cutting him off. 

abruptly, usopp freezes and spins around, attempting to usher your crew back. “you know what, there’s actually a more exclusive entrance this way–”

the sharp swoosh of a knife cutting through the air and burying itself in the ground between usopp’s feet cuts him off. from the direction the kitchen utensil was thrown stands a heavyset gentleman with his face wrinkled in anger. his demanding voice booms through the garden, “the hell are you doing here, usopp?” 

the dark-skinned boy fumbles over his word. “buchi, buddy, uh, kaya’s expecting me.”

“another one of your lies,” the man – seemingly named buchi – seethes, grabbing him by the collar. “you ain’t welcome here and you know it.”

“i know nothing of the sort,” usopp retorts, keeping his cool even when he was practically being lifted off the ground by his shirt. “i’m here to give kaya an extra special gift.”

before buchi can get another word out, a feminine voice calls out for your companion. coming down the steps is a frail looking girl in a pink dress. on her arm is a man dressed in a crisp suit, presumably the butler usopp had mentioned earlier. though, from where you stand you can’t see either of their faces too clearly. 

“what a wonderful surprise,” she exclaims, breathlessly. 

“kaya!” usopp exclaims, returning her enthusiasm. buchi has no choice but to let him go, begrudgingly. usopp makes sure to shoot him a smug look before walking towards the young girl. “happy birthday.” 

the butler clears his throat, not afraid to intrude on their special moment. “usopp, we’ve discussed this before. you mustn’t show up unannounced.” 

“nonsense, klahadore.” kaya smiles warmly. “have you come to tell me another story? i do love hearing about your adventures.” 

“i’ll do you one better,” usopp smirks with such confidence that even you’re left wondering what kind of surprise he has up his sleeve. “i brought some of my crew!” he gestures back towards the four of you, proudly. 

your excitement vanishes. “oh. the surprise is… us.”

“well, that’s boring,” luffy agrees, just as disappointed as you are. 

kaya, on the other hand, is none the wiser. “it’s so nice to meet you. you must all stay for dinner.” 

klahadore lowers his voice. “miss kaya, it is a bit last minute. i’m afraid the kitchen hasn’t prepared for any extra guests.”

“please,” begs kaya, softly. “it’s my birthday. can’t be too much trouble can it?” 

giving in, klahadore purses his lips. “anything for you, miss kaya.” 

luffy claps his hands together. “alright! when do we eat?” 

“you don’t. not dressed like that, at least.” the butler directs himself to a staff member with teal colored hair. “sham, kindly show usopp and his friends to the guest suites. you will bathe and change before dinner.”

she follows his orders and leads the way. luffy, usopp, nami, and zoro trail behind her and you go to do the same. however, all it takes is a quick glance to stop you dead in your tracks. usually, you weren’t one to stare but klahadore’s face. that stare. so dark and depraved. 

“yes, miss?” he asks, holding your gaze. “can i help you?” 

“n-no, i…” your throat goes dry as you attempt to recover smoothly. “i just wanted to, um, thank you for being so hospitable.” 

his lips curve upwards into a sinister grin. “the pleasure’s all mine.” as if to confirm your worst fear, klahadore uses his palm to readjust his glasses. his beady eyes gauge your reaction closely.

the familiar gesture sends chills down your spine. appearance-wise, he had changed drastically but his aura was still just as menacing as you remember it. he was still the corrupt pirate captain you used to serve under. you feel like a weak and helpless subordinate all over again.

“klahadore!” giggles kaya. “you’re smiling! that’s certainly a rarity.”

he hums. “i’ve simply come to the realization that having guests once in a while can truly be a delight.”

his sickeningly sweet tone makes your stomach turn. just the fact that you were standing in front of him – captain kuro – again after all these years was nauseating in itself. last you’d heard he had died at the hands of captain morgan. how was this even possible? then again, he wasn’t dubbed kuro of a hundred plans for no reason. he always had a trick or two up his sleeve. you assumed this was no different. 

“hey, you comin’?”

you turn around to see zoro waiting for you. he meets your gaze for a moment. the softness of his eyes is a stark contrast to kuro’s. it’s a breath of fresh air. he then shifts his attention to your former captain and you swear his eyes darken. 

“yeah, sorry,” you mumble, trying not to look shaken as you walk up the steps. 

zoro follows behind you, this time closer than before.

“why would anybody even need this many clothes?”

“it’s not about need with these people, luffy. it’s about want,” nami spits, thumbing through the various fabrics on the wall. 

“at least she’s rich and nice,” luffy replies, innocently.

nami rolls her eyes. “yeah, letting us stay for dinner must be her idea of charity work.” 

“what are we even supposed to wear?” luffy continues, uninterested in nami’s criticism of the rich. 

“anything you want. when are you ever going to get the opportunity to wear things this nice?” 

you step out from behind the changing board where you’d swapped out your old tee and cargo skirt for an elegant satin dress. it was a stunning shade of olive green and frilly lace decorated the edges. not to mention, it hugged your curves in all the right ways.

nami’s eyes widen. “see, she’s got the right idea. you look amazing.” 

you smile, bashfully. “honestly, i feel amazing.”

“you look the same to me,” your captain shrugs.

nami shoots him a death glare but you intervene before she can scold him.

“way to keep me humble, luffy.”

“no problem!” 

at that exact moment, a freshly showered zoro arrives donning a kimono. he eyes the multitude of garments that cover every inch of the room, not particularly impressed. 

“there you are. don’t you think she looks nice?” nami asks him, gesturing towards you. she doesn’t notice how you shrink under zoro’s gaze. neither does he, as his eyes take their time raking over you, from top to bottom.

he hums. “suits you.” with that, he sets off towards a chair in the corner of the room.  

“seriously?” sighs nami, exasperated. “are you two physically unable to give compliments or something?” 

“hey, doesn’t that butler seem familiar to you guys?” zoro asks, promptly ignoring nami’s complaint. 

his question causes your breath to hitch. you’d pushed the kuro problem to the back of your mind while you were in search of a suitable dinner outfit. you figured that as long as your crew was by your side, he wouldn’t dare try anything. and even if he did… well, you’d seen what had happened to axe-hand morgan and buggy. 

“yeah, i think he was at the last dinner party i attended,” nami replies sarcastically, taking a handful of dresses behind the changing board. 

as he takes a seat, zoro grumbles, “i swear i’ve seen him before.” 

“where?” you can’t help but ask, fiddling with the lace on the neckline of your dress. 

“so far, i’ve got two suspicions. a wanted poster or funky bar on mirrorball island. you ever been?”

you know zoro’s teasing you, judging by the grin on his face. after all, funky bar was known to get insanely rowdy; never would he imagine finding someone as gentle as you there. but what he didn’t know is that it happened to be one of kuro’s favorite bars. per his request, you and the rest of the black cat pirates frequented it often, so he was more than likely right about having seen kuro there. he’d probably even seen you in passing, once or twice. thankfully, he doesn’t seem to have any recollection of that.

the thought of zoro knowing about your past forms a knot in the pit of your stomach. would he think less of you for having joined such a ruthless crew at one point in your life? what if it put a strain on the friendship you’d worked so hard to form? 

“i’ve, uh, heard of it,” you decide to reply, pushing down your worries for the time being. 

he tilts his head slightly, thinking out loud. “then again, i have seen a lot of wanted posters and bars in my time as a pirate hunter.”

you feel a grin creep onto your face. “probably more bars than posters, huh?”

zoro mirrors your smile. “shut up.”

by the time dinner rolls around, the entire crew is doing what they do best. 

luffy is stuffing his face, nami is attempting to swindle one of the staff, zoro is hanging by the drinks, and you’re hanging by zoro. 

“hey zoro, you gotta try this!” luffy calls through a mouthful of food.

“i’ve got all i need right here,” he mutters, taking a swig out of his champagne flute. 

“you know, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you choke down something that isn’t alcohol,” you comment, watching the way he downs the glass in one go. 

dryly, he replies, “that’s because i haven’t.”

“very on brand.”

“ladies and gentleman,” calls out that voice from the top of the stairs. “may i present… miss kaya.”

arm in arm, kuro and kaya walk down the steps, all eyes on the birthday girl and her stunning gown. well, except you. your eyes never leave the so-called butler by her side. your jaw clenches when he has the audacity to meet your gaze and hold it. shameless bastard. 

once they reach the bottom, merry leads kaya to the guests while kuro takes his post at the bottom of the stairs… right next to the drink table. before you can think about steering yourself and zoro away, kuro speaks.

“forgive me if i am speaking out of line, madam, but i must inform you. you look positively radiant,” he purrs, soaking in your appearance. he looks ready to pounce.

you can’t stop your eyes from rolling. good to know he’s the same pervert he used to be.

looking between you both and sensing your discomfort, zoro steps in. “and you look familiar.” 

kuro’s head stiffly turns to face him, eyes peeling away from you. “highly doubtful, sir.” 

“funky bar? mirror ball island?” 

“funky bar?” kuro repeats, disgusted. “well, i can assure you i’ve never patronized that type of establishment.” 

while it was amusing to see your highly esteemed former captain lie through his teeth, the tension between him and zoro was unbearable. 

“well then.” zoro continues with his little interrogation. “ever been on a wanted poster?”

you cringe at his bluntness. sometimes it seemed like he had less of a filter than luffy.

kuro puts on a scandalized face at the question. “sir! such an accusation is highly offensive.” tugging on his collar, he goes to remove himself from zoro’s probing. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to help prepare the dinner table.” 

he leaves, en route to the dining room. zoro’s eyes follow his figure until he disappears, squinting as he racks his brain for any further recollection of this suspicious butler. 

you sigh. if zoro was going to continue being so relentless, you were sure the night would end in bloodshed and uncovered secrets. 

“keep this coming,” zoro demands, handing the empty wine bottle to sham. she takes it with a glare. 

“would it kill you to say please?” you ask, slicing the slab of fish on your plate into smaller pieces.

“the service here is shitty. why should i have to be polite?” 

you scowl. “remind me to never have dinner with you again.”

zoro turns to you with that cocky grin of his. “what if i asked nicely?” 

his quip makes your heart flutter but you manage to keep your composure. “you can try your luck.” 

before he can respond, usopp speaks up. “luffy, isn’t there something that you wanted to talk to kaya about?” 

luffy gesticulates enthusiastically with his fork. “oh, yes! usopp told me that you own the whole shipyard.” 

“well, actually, my parents founded the shipyard and merry’s been running the business since they… passed. but all that’s about to change. tonight, at midnight, i will become the sole owner.” she smiles somberly. 

“well, that’s great,” luffy says, raising his drink at her. “because we want to buy a ship from you.” 

“ah, i see. usopp mentioned that you’re sailors.” 

“nope, not sailors. we’re pirates!”

you’re certain at least three people at the table choke on their food, yourself included. 

“this ought to be good,” zoro mumbles behind his glass.

you’re too busy coughing into your napkin to chastise him for finding this entertaining.

“pirates?” kaya repeats, unsure of how to react. 

“yup! we haven’t sailed together for very long but we’ve already defeated an evil clown, raided a marine base, and taken down a captain with an axe! for a hand!” luffy holds up a fist, presumably to impersonate axe-hand morgan.

“sounds a lot like your adventures, usopp,” kaya says, turning to the brunette.

all he can do is laugh dryly. “yeah, that’s… that’s crazy.” 

“and we’re just getting started!” luffy continues, climbing up onto the table.

“someone put me out of my misery,” you mumble, looking down at your plate to ignore the secondhand embarrassment.

a tap on your shoulder answers your plea.

turning around, you find yourself face to face with kuro once again. “madam, a word please?”

“might i ask what for?” zoro cuts in before you can so much as think of a response.

kuro offers him the most forced grin you’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing. “i’m afraid that is between the lady and i.”

the swordsman turns to you, scanning your face for any ounce of discomfort. “you okay with that?”

you inhale, figuring it was finally time for you to confront the darkest part of your past. it was silly to assume you would be able to ignore him throughout your entire stay here. besides, you were sure zoro, just like the rest of your crew, would be on standby if kuro got brave enough to try anything. “sure. just… keep an eye out.”

zoro understands completely. truthfully, you didn’t even need to ask – he always looked after you. “got it.”

you push yourself out of your seat and smooth out your dress. you allow kuro to lead you to the doorway – he was smart enough to know that was the farthest you’d let him take you. 

“what do you want, klahadore?” you seethe, folding your arms.

he arches a brow. “why must you call me that? it’s ridiculous.” 

you tilt your head with faux innocence. “oh? is that not your name? must have misheard.”

he gives you an irritated look, dark eyes drilling into you.

“i remember that look,” you mutter, your memory serving you well. “it’s the same one you’d give me before you’d threaten to slice me to bits with your claws.”

kuro has the audacity to chuckle dryly. “but i never did, did i? although there were certainly times times where i should’ve.”

“what you should be is dead,” you hiss bitterly. “when i heard the news, i knew it was too good to be true.”

“you wound me, kitten,” he drawls, reaching up to fix his glasses. 

the condescending nickname makes your skin crawl. it carried so many awful memories of your time spent with the black cat pirates. it reminded you of just how weak kuro viewed you — nothing but a helpless, pitiful kitten in his eyes. typical of the man that abused his authority and treated you with not a single ounce of respect. 

he continues, putting on a sweet tone. “after all these years, stuck waiting hand and foot on that spoiled brat, there’s nothing i’d love more than to hear my favorite crew mate say my real name.”

you snap at him. “i’m no crew mate of yours.”

he sighs, dramatically. “sadly, you’re correct. after all, you did slip off the ship the moment we docked in shells town. locating you on an island crawling with marines proved to be nearly impossible. we had no choice but to leave without you.”

“that’s exactly why i chose to escape there.” 

“and to this day i can’t for the life of me figure out why you would ever do that. why would you want to leave us? leave me?”

you actually laugh right in his face. “is it really that hard to figure out? you were evil. you threatened and harassed me on a daily basis.”

“so your solution was to join that ragtag crew?” he glances at the table. “it’s pathetic, even for you.”

you lean into his face, lowering your voice down. “i’m happier than i ever was on your shitty crew. every day i wake up grateful that i managed to escape you.”

you see that vein on his forehead bulge before he’s gripping you by the chin. “listen here, you little bitch–”

the shiny silver of a sword slides between you and kuro, coming to rest against his neck. his adam’s apple bobs as he gulps anxiously, releasing you. thanks to zoro’s sword, it seemed as if he finally remembered where he was. you were no longer on his ship, he was no longer allowed to treat you like the dirt he walked on. not without someone noticing, that is. 

“why don’t you step away?” zoro offers simply.

that much was a kindness. usually those who found themselves on the end of zoro’s blade(s) weren’t lucky enough to receive a warning. however, the swordsman didn’t wish to cause a scene. at least not when you were right there and everyone was watching with shock from the dinner table.

kuro obliges, stumbling back. he meets kaya’s horrified eyes, feeling ashamed that he allowed his act to slip. surely this would cause some setbacks in his plan. with no excuse for his uncharacteristic behavior, the raven haired man scurries away and up the stairs.

zoro turns and locks eyes with luffy, giving him one singular nod. luffy returns it, jumping out of his seat and going after the butler. quiet murmuring breaks out at the dinner table, everyone surely confused. 

sheathing his sword, zoro directs his attention to you once more. “are you alright?” a calloused hand comes up to grip your chin, much like kuro had. however, this time, the touch is gentle. loving, almost. you welcome it.

“yeah, i’m… fine.” your heart is beating out of your chest and it has everything to do with your close proximity to zoro.

he tilts your face around, inspecting every inch of it. once he finishes, he pulls back. his demeanor goes serious once more. “we need to have a talk.”

you nod. “i know. i’ve been keeping some things from you guys and–”

“just tell me what’s been going on,” he demands. “and don’t overcomplicate it. you can be straightforward with me.”

his sincerity makes you start over, this time far more candidly. “klahadore used to be a pirate. i was part of his crew. he was my… captain.”

the shame in your voice pulls at zoro’s heartstrings. didn’t you know there was no reason to feel guilty with him? “is that it?” 

you open your mouth to speak but come up empty. all you can do is furrow your eyebrows at his unexpectedly dismissive reaction.

“i knew it,” zoro continues, annoyed. “i knew i’d seen him on a wanted poster before. just didn’t have any proof.”

“wait, so you don’t– you really don’t care?” you ask, still avoiding eye contact. “me being a former black cat pirate doesn’t bother you?”

he shrugs. “you said it yourself. ‘former.’ all that matters is that you got the hell out of there. and away from that creep. would he always put his hands on you like that?”

you blink a couple times, sighing. “his temper was really bad so–”

that seemed to be enough for zoro. “i’ll kill the bastard,” he hisses. “wanted to slice him to bits the moment i saw him grab you.” 

though it’s a violent threat, you can’t help but smile. the idea of zoro being so protective that he’d kill a man just for touching you made you blush. pirate love language, you suppose.

“well, i wouldn’t have stopped you,” you tell him, more than ready to see your former captain go.

zoro clicks his tongue. “nah. could’ve stained your new dress with his blood. i never would have been able to forgive myself.”

“so you do have a soft spot,” you tease.

“only for pretty things.”

“do you mean me or the dress?” 

now it’s zoro’s turn to become bashful. though, his lack of response is an answer in itself. you can’t help but giggle. 

a loud bang from upstairs interrupts your moment with the green-haired man. you assume luffy had gotten his hands on kuro… or vice versa. zoro must be thinking the same thing judging by the way he instinctively rests a hand on the handle of his blade.

“you should go up there,” you tell him. “i’ll stay with kaya.”  

he gives you a nod, though he doesn’t make any effort to leave. he stands there like he wants to say something… or do something. before you can think about it too much, you pull him in by the collar and crash your lips onto his. they’re slightly chapped and taste like the wine that’d come from the cellar – it’s pleasant. his large palms come to rest on your lower back; his hold feels tight and secure. 

when you finally allow yourself to pull away, you’re biting back a smile. “kick his ass for me.” 

“will i get more of that if i do?” asks zoro, wetting his lips. they now taste like the cherry lip gloss you’d borrowed from kaya. he takes a step forward, attempting to close the gap between you two once more.

you shrug, pushing him away by the chest. “go help luffy and we’ll see.”

you both know that means yes.

[manakoko]

『♡』 In the Ring

♡ featuring: boxer!wriothesley x manager!reader

♡ summary: its hard managing a boxer full time. maybe it's time you relieve that stress. wc: 6.8k+ (???>":>?)

♡ cw/tw: mentions of trauma, mentions of violence, rough sex, overstim, face-sitting, size kink, unintentional edging, hair pulling, mentions of choking, argument, confessed feelings, slow burn, kinda toxic?

notes: can u tell how down bad i am for wriothesley. also do yall like the smaller text cause I do. jing yuan fluff next :)) art by sxnalien on twitter! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

For a second, the crowd stills. Bright intense lamps illuminate the sweltering squared circle, buoyant under the nimble movement of the boxers. They trade blows, bobbing and throwing each devastating hook with an even deadlier counter. No one took a hit for the past minutes, and the audience scoots to the edge of their seats at the sheer stamina of the two. Both dripping sweat, barely holding on between the merciless clock and their steadfast opponent. You can almost hear the breeze of swift jabs cutting wind against their jaws. The one with blue gloves can barely manage to guard himself, with a swollen face and wobbly legs, while the crimson gloves deal relentless punches. The crowd shouts. Unintelligible echoes, some that pray for the win, others grieving the money they’re about to lose. He’s caught on the ropes, and attempts a wild swing to save himself, to save his career. Red gloves weaves effortlessly and delivers a brutal crush to his bloodied nose and possibly busted mouthpiece. The crack is resounding, it makes the commentators cringe. His skull flies back, and he comes crashing down from his dizzying tower. The head-first fall vibrates beneath the feet of investors in proximity. 

DING DING DING 

Mass uproar ensues. They jump out of their seats, flailing their arms, joy and pain in equilibrium. 

“And he is out! It’s all over!” the commentator yells. Confetti floats golden dust from the ceiling. The victor stalks the ropes before hopping on them, his gloves raised in the air. Glistening, high off elation, but somehow composed in his attitude, akin to a wolf. 

“A savage knockout from the untouchable world champion, the king of the ring, Wriooothesley!” 

“Wrio, Wrio, Wrio!” they chant. You’re standing near the ropes, already identifying which joints you’ll need to observe after his victory lap. It’s hectic, and you’re jotting down the state of his figure. Past experiences sew through each deep scar carving his rugged biceps and abs, the bruises display early signs of discoloration. He’s tall on the unseen throne, it feels like you’re there with him. A million eyes in that vast stadium, and yet, those midwinter eyes ebbed in silver only look at you.  

Your beginnings as a manager were tumultuous. You could barely comprehend how out of your league you were working for a renowned agency fresh out of college. Though you found quick success in your ability to grab the attention of investors through public relations, you weren’t equipped just yet with the hindsight in preparing for scandals. The other athletes you worked with served no problem, and so you never had to worry about their appeal. Higher ups praised your extensive portfolio, and at such a young age, it was even more commendable. You earned it, fame and respect, interviews and gossip—a delicate dance. You were always busy, assisting your clients throughout the day and maintaining their presence while they slept. It was hard work, but you loved doing it. 

That was until you worked with amateur boxer, Childe. 

A snappy, overconfident lightweight fighter with no regard for anything or anyone. He had an unmistakable void in his eyes, but you fought for him ceaselessly, to prove that he wasn’t the cold person he portrayed himself as. You bore with his flirtatious compliments and innuendos, the need to focus him whenever you documented his afflictions, and he’d not-so-subtly flex his biceps. Childe was unnecessarily violent with underhanded tactics. The media knew this and did everything to amplify that bellicose story. You’d combat it, negate it, but he only fed the flames with threats of retaliation. Taking his phone wasn’t enough, and you couldn’t get through to him. It was only a matter of time before he went off the deep end.  

The day you slept, you discovered a restlessness you’d endure indefinitely. The flickering glow of your device woke you at midnight as hundreds of notifications congested your screen. 128 missed calls from your agency, 50 from news sources, and none from Childe. When you processed the damage from his deplorable stunt, you nearly hurled your phone out the window. He posted revenge porn, and evidently turned off his phone. Surely, there’d be a way to fix this. The chances seemed to dissolve with each text turning green. You started pacing, battling with morality and loyalty and anger. What he did was disgusting, but it’s your job to save him, right? Is he worth saving? You spoke with 4 managers at once, switching through motives and bickering until morning. As you flipped through the television, another emotion struck you. 

There he was, on a tasteless gossip channel. An interview you didn’t arrange, with a man you’ve never seen before. And he was...crying? The sob story emitting from his deceitful lips was almost impressive. Childe went on about how “demanding and horrible” you were backstage. The crocodile tears dried up through dodgy anecdotes, but it was enough to have people hooked. You were allegedly physically and emotionally abusive. He was too scared to speak up due to your position and he just couldn’t bear it any longer. Then he dropped the bomb; he blamed you for his post. You forced him to do it, jealous of his previous partners, emphasizing how enamored you were of him. The questionable tears began to fall again, but this time he covered his mouth, withholding the duping smile crawling on his face.  

You were filled with blinding rage, unable to control the fury at which your remote connected with the screen. It was everywhere now, social media websites booming with live opinions. He had no reason to slander you, and you couldn’t pinpoint why he chose to hurt you like this. You cried for him, shared stories of childhood and family. The knife you used to protect him was firm in your back, twisting and digging with each disgusting message in your inbox. You had no game plan to conduct, and no tears left to cry.  

Within a week, you finally understood how cruel this industry could be. Within a week, you were no longer on top. You lost clients fast. It spread like wildfire and not a single outlet spared an ear for your side. People you called friends, coworkers, hadn’t replied to your messages. When you got back to work, the rooms were silent as you passed. You could feel their judgement, whispers rattled with rumors and accusations. They waited for the tiniest slip-up and pounced like hyenas—you were eaten alive by their pitiful stares. You attempted to tell your truth multiple times throughout the week, but it was consistently rejected. The headlines were eye-catching: 

“Manager From Hell: Childe Tells All!” 

“He Cries: A Story of Love and Jealousy” 

Your stomach churned to the magazines being shown. Despite the great amount of loss you suffered, you were thankful for the one person that believed you, your boss. 

“Childe is a lying little snake. The media knows that, too.” 

“Then why is this happening?” 

“Money. That story is making bank right now. But I know for a fact you wouldn’t do this” he reassured.  

“Thank you, sir. But...I lost everything; I just don’t know what to do.” The weariness was heavy in your voice. 

“I have someone you can manage. It won’t be easy, but if anyone can do it, it’s you.” You were unsure of yourself now, and he continued.  

“You’re one of my best. If you want to climb out of this, now’s your chance.” Yes, you were unsure, drowning in doubt. But if the only way to get above water was to keep swimming, you wouldn’t give up so easily. 

Wriothesley wasn’t exactly known for his kindness. Crude, cocky, maybe even spoiled were descriptions that circulated in the tabloids. He had a knack for pissing reporters off by not answering questions or humming over their voice with a shit-eating grin on his face. Women loved him, however, throwing bras and phone numbers written on scrap as the condemned “bad boy” departed post-game. They screamed his name at once, and he’d done nothing to deserve it. He relished infamy—that way, it was much harder to pry into his private life. 

It had to be a coincidence that it was someone you fangirled over. In college, your eyes were glued to the screen every Sunday, waiting for Wriothesely’s post-conference and behind the scenes interviews. He didn’t speak often, but just the sight of those inky strands streaked with ash made your heart flutter featherlight in your chest. 

When you first approached him, he was just as arrogant as you’d expect. 

“Good evening!” you beamed. You caught him outside the gym, and he still had his headphones in. Full volume and blankly staring as you went on about the opportunity, silent under the blaring music. He took one earbud out when you finished. 

“Hm? Who’re you?” 

You were slightly annoyed. “Let me reintroduce myself, I’m (Y/N). Your new manager.” 

“No. Bye.” He began to walk past you without an ounce of care. You couldn’t lose it like this. 

“Ah, wait!” He turned half-heartedly. 

“Listen, I get it. You don’t want to be bossed around. But honestly, your reputation is shit. That can’t be good for business.” you persuaded. He towered over you, the figure of a Greek giant peeked through the compression top as he lazily watched you. 

“So? Why do you care?” he remarked. 

“I’ll help you. Sponsors, advertisements, whatever you want. You’re good, but you can be so much better. Let’s make money together.” You held your hand out, awaiting a handshake of approval. He merely glanced at your limp wrist. 

“Help? You’re obviously not doing this for free.” 

“Of course not. Give a little, take a little. I don’t do charity cases” you shrugged.  

He groaned, raking his fingers through his thick mane. At the very least, he hadn’t walked away yet. “I'd prefer for my life to be private.” 

“Then I’ll guarantee your privacy.” 

“Really?” he scoffed. “What can you give me besides empty promises?” 

“Anything you desire. Work with me, and I’ll make it happen.” That offer enticed him. No one had been this persistent with him yet, he scared off any manager that dared succor him. It was slightly entertaining, the way you burned ambition in your eyes, you were so easy to read. Most people wouldn’t look directly at him, and here you were, ready to follow him home if that’s what it took. He chuckled, and his massive hand reached for yours. 

You shook hands, and your fates were sealed.  

That was a year ago, and ever since then he’s been a thorn in your side. Nonstop drama and rectifying consumed your life. You didn’t think a man who spoke so little in public could talk so much around you. Whenever you argue—which is a frequent occurrence—his smirk grew wider at your frustration. You weren’t sure why you ever liked him in the first place. He only puts in effort when it comes to sparring, but you’re determined to ameliorate his standing, and in turn, yours.  

The minute you open the doors to the hall, the sound of pummeled sandbags, clanking metal, and sneakers skidding across the floor roars in your ears. Some men are dialed in on abusing the inanimate objects, the rest tense through repetitions of dumbbell curls with a hiss. You're in quick strides, the phone arm's length away from you as the sponsor on the other end screams. Another petty drama surrounding Wriothesley grabs the attention of the internet. Luckily, you have thorough experience remedying this. 

“What are you going to do? You’re fucking with my money!” you hear the faint voice. You bring the phone back to your ear. 

“Don’t I always deal with it? He fights, I make up for the other half. Give me a few hours.” 

“I’m not going to wa-” You hang up at the response. 

You propel the double doors free into a large room with a boxing ring in the center. A group of trainers swarm the perimeter, you can barely see through.  

“Don’t be scared!” one of them taunt towards the sparring partner, who has an unthinkable panic creeping in goosebumps dotting his skin. Each sloppy dodge tilts him more and more off balance against the strikes. Wriothesley has a powerful stature, with his back curving in a way that accentuates the rough muscle shaping his spine. You drone an annoyed sigh at the commotion and push yourself through them.  

“Move it, move!” you yell, before jostling your way to the front of the ring. 

“Wriothesley! Times up.”  He turns his head to the side, unintentionally sparing his partner and glares at you. 

“Two minutes.” 

“No. Now.” you command. He looks up at nothing, as if considering his options if he cusses you out. Then he begrudgingly drops the gloves and pulls himself under the ropes. The group disperses from the lack of action and he’s mere inches from you now. Sometimes you forget how to breathe in his half-naked presence.  

“What the fuck is your problem?” He mumbles while drying his head with a towel. His colossal forearms are raised over his head, highlighting the happy trail thick down his abdomen and tufts of hair on his armpits.  

“You. How many times do I have to tell you not to train during recovery?” you seethe. 

“Damn. Must’ve slipped my mind.” He doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest. 

“Well then, I’ll be sure to remind you hourly.” 

“Nah, I’m good. Hearing you once a day is enough.” He tosses the towel to you like his dutiful servant and grabs his water bottle. The liquid drips down his chin and on his shorts, hanging below his v-line. 

Your eyebrow twitches from withheld vexation. “If you don’t want to hear me twice, I suggest you do what I tell you. We need to talk.” A heavy sigh leaves him as he stretches, and he passes you the water bottle. If you had the strength to collapse the bottle with one hand, you would. “Lead the way” he goads. 

Wriothesley follows you through the backdoor of the gym to a secluded alleyway. When you get there, he immediately pulls out a cigarette you didn’t know he had. You were aware he smokes occasionally, but seeing it physically coaxed a strange worry in your gut. You twist your phone to him, to display evidence of him instigating an argument with Childe on social media. He reads in silence, briefly laughing at the recollection of his own comebacks, then lights the cigarette. 

“What’s this? Didn’t I say keep a low profile?” you reprimand. 

He drags in a deep breath of nicotine, and you eye the foul scent with distaste. He blows it above your unhappy face. “Calm down. Once a month thing. That fucker's testing me.” 

“This can’t happen again, Wriothesley.” He ignores you to continue his mumbling. “I should break his neck like a twig. He’s lucky he didn’t say that shit to my face, fucking punk.” he grouses. You're struggling to gather your thoughts, the cigarette compacted between his thick fingers irritates you. 

“We all appreciate your restraint, however-” you get closer, and yank the stick out his hand. 

 “No-!” Before he can finish, you promptly smudge it underneath your shoe. You aren’t sure how he’d react, but you didn’t expect him to sulk like a puppy. 

“You aren’t doing this shit while I’m here.” 

“Oh my god” he pouts, throwing his hands into his face and pulling them down.  

“You’re lucky I don’t report it to the doctor. None of this, ever again.” 

“Fuck, alright just...” he lets out a defeated sigh. “What do you want me to do about it? Apologize publicly?” You need him to do nothing; neither agency wants controversy, and it’d most likely be swept under the rug in just a couple days. You point his water bottle to him. 

“Nope, I’ll handle it. Just sit there and be pretty.” you reassure. He leans down to your height with a sweet smile and even sweeter gaze. 

“I do that well, don’t I?” he quips. 

“You manage.” He latches onto the water bottle, and drinks from it in your hand while looking at you. A soft heat envelops you beyond words that never reach your lips. 

“Listen to what I’m saying. Low. Profile.” Wriothesley comes up from thirst, dragging his tongue along the straw to the top, and licks his blushed lips. He delights in your flustered reaction. 

“Low. Profile.” he repeats in a sarcastic drawl. 

Later in the week, you receive a call in your office. It was fairly busy today, with coworkers constantly “checking in”, more so to see Wriothesley sitting across from you. He had no reason to be here, and you were surprised at his arrival. Be it boredom or a certain longing, a dull swell pulsed in his chest once he saw your overworked smile. 

“Hello, this is (Y/N) of Boxe Association. May I know who I’m speaking with?” Wriothesley’s ears perk up at your sudden professionalism, and he mimics your cadence. 

“Good afternoon, it’s Isadora.” Isadora was an event coordinator you previously worked with before your controversy. You understood that she stopped communicating to protect her business, but the pain lingered. You twirl the phone cord around your fingers, and meet eyes with Wriothesley, who’s laid back in the chair, his arms behind his head. 

“Oh. Hey, it’s been a while.” you say. You turn your swivel chair away from him to continue the conversation. His eyebrow twitches slightly with an unconscious scowl, and he walks towards your chair. 

“It has. I’m calling because I have a proposition that might interest you. I believe a meet and greet would be appropriate for your client. A large chunk of his fanbase are young adult women, however, he’s also popular with children.” He spins the chair around with a firm hand and presses his cheek against the phone. 

“That’s true.” You side eye him, and without skipping a beat, mush his nosey face away. His hot breath on your digits makes your skin tingle. 

“Who is that” he mumbles. You'd never seen Wriothesley interact with children, and you have every reason to be hesitant. 

“Hmm...any positive activity with children is good publicity. I’ll consider it. I’ll let you know by tonight.” The second you hang up, you release his face. 

“Why are you being annoying-” 

“Who were you talking to” he chides.  

“Isadora. She’s an event coordinator.” His clenched jaw unwinds. “She wants to do a meet and greet with you and a few kids. If we go through with this, I’ll have a camera crew and some reporters there. It’ll be good for your image.” 

“Okay.” he agrees. That was quick.  

“...Are you sure? Kids are loud and obnoxious a lot of the time.” 

“So? Fine by me. I can teach them how to fight.” Your skin crawls at the thought of Wriothesley launching a child through a wall. “That won’t be necessary.” 

“It’ll be fun.” The more he assures you, the more uneasy you feel. 

“Wriothesley, I’m serious. Don’t screw this up” you plead. He holds his pinky out. “I won't.” His loose interpretation of promises was dubious at best, but you had no other options, and this might be your only opening. You curl to his word. 

After parleying the finer details, you broadcast a raffle for young fans to meet Wriothesley. The traffic to the website was overwhelming, and you quickly began sorting out tickets for the favored winners. 

 Fortunately, the next couple of weeks were par for the course. 

It’s the night before the event, and you’re getting ready for bed. You sit at your desk in a big T-shirt and do your daily review of personal data. As you're scrolling through and identifying what needs improvement, you get a notification on your phone. 

“Breaking News: Boxer Bar Fight!” Curious, you open the tab to a video. It makes your breath stall, sweating frantically. You can’t think clearly, and your shaky hands can barely increase the volume. Unidentifiable noises and wobbly camerawork made it impossible to catch anything besides those familiar inky black strands, throwing punches in a drunken stupor at a defenseless man. Your previous conundrum flashes through your memory in a horrific stop-motion; the duping smile on his face. 

No. It’s happening all over again. Why is he at a bar? You messaged him before he went to bed. He never goes to bars. Why now, the night before the event? It’s late, he doesn’t go anywhere without telling you. 

He promised. 

None of it made sense as you threw on any sweatpants in your drawer and ran out the door. You can’t wait until morning. Disaster punctures and tears any rational decision you contemplate. Shouting silently within your mind, a crashing rage—or sadness—boils in your nervous stomach. You’re tunnel vision in a taxi on the way to his address. 

When you get there, you bang on the door with a fury that vibrates throughout the archway. His home is extravagant, with two cars and an expansive driveway. You bang again. 

“Wriothesley!” He finally opens the door. He’s still half asleep, pajama pants low on his waist, groggily leaning against the arch.  

“(Y/N)? Uh, what’s up?” He slurs in a deep slumbering voice through heavy eyelids. You barge in without saying anything. “Make yourself at home, I guess.” 

The interior is just as opulent as the exterior, it almost looks untouched. Every corner has a case or shelf stacked with ornate trophies and medals of excellence. It was the home of someone who achieved peak perfection and reveled in it. He follows you to his living room, bewildered at your furious expression. You play the video in front of him, and he watches with that same puzzled attitude that makes you angrier. You try taking deep breaths to compose yourself, but they halt shallowly. 

“What the fuck is this?” you accuse. 

“What? I don’t know.”  “Like hell you don’t know, this shit is on every homepage. Are you serious?”  

The cranky boxer pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. You show up at his house, and it’s to badger him about a rumor. Your temperament only heats the smoldering ember fueled by incessant claims. He covers his mouth, physically stopping the involuntary response. 

“Okay” he says, and blurts a facetious chuckle. Your heart thumps in your chest and ears.  

“Oh, It’s a fucking joke? I bust my ass to save your career and you’re laughing?” you snap, voice increasing in volume until it reaches a broken peak. He returns with the same energy. 

“When did I ask you to fix anything? Did you ever think that maybe I don’t fucking need you-” 

“You can barely control your smoking habits you pompous ass-” 

“I would if you didn’t nag me all the time. Whining and complaining, it’s fucking annoying!” he yells. Neither of you meant the words spilling out the bubbling surface, but your tongues were solely seasoned with the next spiteful jab. 

“Yes, whining! Because all you need to do is be on the straight and narrow, but you take nothing seriously, Wriothesley, and that’s exactly why-” 

“Exactly why what? Why your career went to shit so you’re piggybacking off mine?”  

Your battle stops. You can’t find the words to rebuttal. All the opinions of your colleagues, the media, Wriothesley, and yourself coagulate into a lump that fills the tightening throat. Pride comforts tears brimming your eyes. 

He pauses, as though he came to reality. An apology attempts to form on his lips, but it never manifests. “(Y/N), I didn’t-” 

“See you in the morning” you choked. You walk to the door, and he reaches out to the infinite space thick between you two.  

You didn’t sleep the entire night. It’s morning, and you’re exhausted. You consistently replayed the quarrel in your head through the taxi ride home, and when you strived for rest, it plagued your mind. Your coffee is untouched during your morning routine, a movement comparable to zombies. You don’t bother to confirm if Wriothesely is at the building—either way you owe it to the event holders to be there. 

You arrive just before the children file into the training room. Thankfully, Wriothesley is there in the center. Live cameras from reporters and parents border the walls; if something were to occur, it would be irreversible. Your head suddenly hurts. 

Perhaps playing it up for his reputation, the smile stretched across his face is a sunny warmth you’ve never seen from him. He waves to them, and they erupt with screams. To your astonishment, he gets on his knees to be eye level with them. They all jump into his arms at once, and he topples over onto the mat.  

And he’s laughing. This grumpy asshole fighter is laughing. A hearty, genuine laugh as he wraps his sturdy arms around all of them and picks them up at once. He whirls them around and they orchestrate high-pitched giggles. “Ready to have some fun?” he chortles. They say yes to varying degrees of excitement, and the meet and greet proceeds. 

You can’t help but smile when he frolics with the kids. They chase him with boxing gloves, he pretends to fall dramatically. Dogpiling him, he lets out a shrill scream of defeat. He manages to work in proper defense techniques while they jump him like a test dummy. He tosses each kid in the air whenever they ask, and never tells them no. You receive another call from Isadora amid your admiration, and you step outside. 

“Hey! Good news, these views are off the charts and the internet is really in his favor right now” she congratulates.  

“That’s great...what about the video from last night? Did you see it?” you ask. 

“Video...oh, that! Don’t worry, it’s confirmed fake.” What? Oh no. Immediate regret stirs in your blood, and you force the phone away to catch your breath. You feel utterly stupid. 

“Hello?” You quickly bring the phone back to your ear. “Yea, sorry. I have to go; I’ll call you later.” you insist. You can’t facepalm any harder. You make your way back to the training room, where the kids decorate his gloves with iridescent stickers. Wriothesley occasionally looks at you, but you can’t bear to show your guilty face. 

When the event is over, you both make sure to hug every child on the way out and thank the parent for coming. You’re sorting through mountains of requests people made to see Wriothesley again, and you mute your phone over the influx of emails. Peeking at the broadcast, under the footage in bold letters:  

“(Y/N) Back from the Dead?”  

It wasn’t the most flattering title, but it proved that public perception was salvageable. You emit a sigh of relief, for you and Wriothesley. As you’re packing your things to exit, he blocks the door with his body. 

“Can we talk?” You were dreading this discussion, but agreed, nonetheless. The ride to his home is silent, you grapple with a proper apology. 

You lean against the kitchen bar, while he’s laxing on the couch. Sleep deprivation torments you, causes you to wander as you fill in papers from sponsors. You can’t see the way Wriothesley steals glances at your slack figure curving to the marble. He eventually spoke.  

“So, um.” 

“I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. You did a good job today Wriothesley, you should be proud.” You flash a meek smile. He fumbles with his thumbs uncomfortably. 

“I am. Aren’t I the best?” he boasts. 

“You are” you say. The lack of sleep beckons you to a spur of honesty as you scribble. “You have stunning form, perfect accuracy, and immeasurable talent. Not just anyone can do that.” you return. He gazes at you, that dull swell pumping in his veins again. The cozy radiance of lights brightens your tired eyes. 

“You’re a big fan, huh?” he chuckles.  

“Of course, I used to watch you in college. I had a major crush on you” you snort. “Everything you are is amazing, but you know this. So cut it out.” He sits on the armrest, swallowing your confessions. The room is entirely too hot, he needs alleviation—he needs you. 

“Sorry. For what I said.” 

“Forget it. It's my fault, I was careless. I apologize.” you admit. 

“You know I didn’t do it, right?” 

“I know.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“I know.” you reassure.  

“What if some other bullshit controversy comes out. Then what?” You stop writing to give him your full attention. 

“Then, I’ll trust you. We’ve gotten this far. Even if no one else does, even if for some reason I lose my job and I’m not your manager anymore, I’ll trust you, Wriothesley.” you reveal. He doesn’t move. Wriothesley knew he wasn’t deserving of trust, and he’d made a plethora of mistakes throughout your arrangement. You had every right to leave him long ago. Nobody gave him the time of day or cared for his wellbeing like you did, but he couldn’t reciprocate. Even so, here he kneels, at the feet of an angel that shows him undying mercy. 

Wriothesley stalks at you, but you remain. He looms over you, pinning you to the counter with both arms, inches from your face. It isn’t a threatening force, but one that begs for confirmation. That slated storm searches for a specific craving, you feel his chest rising and falling laden with yours. 

“You’re too close” you quiver. The bitter musk and vanilla enveloping your senses makes you foggy, it lingers through the whole house. 

“Tell me to leave.” His mouth slants to you, and he waits expectingly. You ogle his features, the scratches of a warrior celebrated across his hardy torso. His hair brushes against your forehead, imperfect and uniquely beautiful. Why were you mad, again?

“Tell me to back off, (Y/N)” he pleads. The pads of your fingers lightly caress his ear, then his jaw. 

“Please” he whispers. Your thumb grazes his bottom lip, and he succumbs to the urge. 

You collide fervently, lips coated in definitive desire. Dancing with rough, bruising kisses that don’t make space for air. It smears on your face, dips down your neck and swiftly returns to your lonely mouth. The pressure of the counter bar burns across your lower back from his weight, but those mind-numbing kisses soften any injury. You bite his lip when he pulls away, and he groans. Suddenly, he lifts you effortlessly with his hands on your ass, and you clash teeth and tongue in a passionate challenge. He demands entry, and you moan into the wet mass intertwining through sloppy kisses. It explores your mouth, sending throbs to your nerves and subdues any control you have left. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, but you yearn for deeper contact. He licks up the organ, and spots moist, hungry kisses on your jaw. You both take a fleeting breath before converging again. You find passage in his hair and suck staining rose-colored marks on his neck while he carries you to the bedroom. 

“You’ve been waiting for this, hm? Slutty groupie” Wriothesley moans. You drag kisses along the shell of his ear. He tosses you onto the fluffy bedding and haphazardly strips to his underwear. The wide mirror opposite his bed gives you a glimpse of his thighs and shapely bottom hugging the briefs. You’re supposed to be undressing, but that thronging bulge made for a titan makes you nervous for what’s to come. He palms the erection to soothe the ache and climbs over you. He’s somewhat gentle, careful with the bulk of his body as he cradles your face for more kisses. The way he looks at you, a covet softness or misted lust tantalizing the wetness pooling in your panties. He moves to your neck, French kissing down your throat and on your collarbone. You feel like a virgin again, heart racing from every graze of his fingers and lips. His calloused digits grope the plush fat of your thighs, and gradually reach the hem of your skirt. You snake your hands over his pecs and abs and read the muscles. Moaning into each other's mouths, indulging every part of your bodies as you’ve wanted to do for months. He pulls your skirt off and you hold your button-down over your exposed panties. Heat spreads in your body, and he amuses at your sudden bashfulness. 

“Oh…you’re shy?” he teases, before popping the buttons off with a brutal rip. “Wrio!” you yelp. That’s the first time you called Wriothesley a nickname; he must’ve died and went to heaven. The lace gift wrapped around your breasts taunts him, and he buries his face immediately. He nips the sensitive skin and snaps the clasp off. “Cute. Need to feel you” he husks. He twirls the bud in his mouth, while manipulating the other between his girthy fingers. Alternating among loving hickies and harsh tugs of his teeth on your nipple. You whine, and his laugh tickles your raw skin. He flips over on his back and steadies you on top of him. Discards the rest of your top, and let’s out a shaky groan.  

“You’ve never been this speechless” he says. You smile and kiss his puffy lips, your hands kneading his chest. “You’re so pretty” you coo. He huffs while rubbing circles on your waist, eyeing your inner thighs covered in juices.  

“Then come fuck my pretty face.” He slips under the waistband and tweaks the fabric, but you grip his wrists. “Wait! Let me shower first- “ 

“You said you'd give me anything I desire, remember that? Keep your promise." He yanks the thin material down your legs in your weak clutches, trailing a string of drool that sticks to your labia. “C’mere” he grunts and lifts you towards his face. Your thighs are soft on either side of him, and you still in his grasp. He lolls his tongue out, but you’re reluctant to fully sit. “I’m heavy” you murmur.  

“Shut up.” He embraces your body, and you have no choice but to settle in his warmth. He keeps you flush with his flat tongue, swiping up and down the squishy flesh molding to his mouth. You writhe in his grasp, but he continues to lap at your clit with a starving lust. Wriothesely soaks in your velvet skin and perfumed essence dribbling down his chin. He doesn’t come up for air, and your brain is mush over him, his lips slurping your quivering cunt. A buzzing intensity courses through your twitching stomach. You rut your hips against his mouth, and he maintains his position while you use him. You’re grinding on his tongue, absent-mindedly biting your lips and mewling endlessly as you bring yourself closer to climax. He hums while sucking the nub and the vibrations make you cry out.  

“Wrio, ‘m coming” you whine. You hump his mouth until you come undone in a pulsating finish. His hands restrain you, greedily devouring the newly found honey as it pours out. You ride it through while he curls the tip of his tongue at your opening. Without warning, you feel the pink muscle push in your recovering vulva. “S-Shit, Wrio” you whimper, trembling on him as he drives inside. He seizes the back of your thighs and begins to bounce you up and down the mushy appendage slowly stretching you. The sensation is overwhelming, his nose skims your oversensitive clit each time you drop, and you sob. Wriothesley moves faster, your hands entangle in his hair. You babble please’s repeatedly, gazing sensually at each other as the coil winds in your gut. More, more. Then it snaps, an abrupt shock, clenching on his tongue as you cream. He raises your lower half; the wetness collecting in your convulsing heat makes his cock strain more than it already suffered.  

“Such a cute slut” Wriothesley husks. Your numb legs can’t navigate on their own, so he places you on your stomach. “We’re not done.” He springs his throbbing length free. The veins are consistent, prominent up his shaft to the angry red crown—9 inches begging to be inside you. Fresh precome trickles down his tip and he sighs at the bloated pain in his hefty balls. You arch your back, presenting yourself to his awaiting size. When he doesn’t enter you turn to him impatiently and he smirks. 

“Put it in” you whine. Wriothesley spreads your backside, and watches you clench around the ghost of him. He glazes himself with your slick, and moans from the feeling of your puffy lips cuddling his cock. “It’s not every day a fan gets to sleep with me. Be grateful.” he teases. He pumps through your squashed thighs, the head prodding your nub while he forces your chest flush with the bed. After he thoroughly coats himself, he nudges the bulbous tip to your entrance. 

Wriothesley sinks into your sex. You’re gripping him like a vice despite the searing soreness of your body accommodating the scale. The fevered sleeve nearly makes him crash to the hilt, but he stutters gradually to relieve your discomfort. He hits the base and shudders. You feel unbelievably stuffed, as if it’s squirming in your cervix. Then he starts at a savage pace. He’s using you like a flesh-light, balls smacking your overwhelmed tender nub with a carnal impulse. His moans spill uncontrollably as he watches your rippling ass and viscous webs blend together, clinging to his cock and forming a cloudy froth at the base. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets; you can’t think or feel anything that isn’t him, core surging with intense want. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight, gonna snap my dick off. Ah- gonna make sure you can’t walk t-tomorrow. Then- hah- then you won’t be able to find anyone who fucks you like this, who makes you come like this.” He’s rambling and stuttering, completely incoherent the closer he gets. He glances at the mirror, then at you. You feel your hair jerked back by his massive hand, and lock eyes with Wriothesley in his drunken haze. “Stop, it’s embarrassing!” you slur. You’re both sheened with sweat, disheveled bodies satiating the hunger in any way you can. 

“Shh, you hear that?” The squelching slam of passion echoes in the room, sopping down your leg through his pummeling thrusts. Your back bends unnaturally as though it were folded in half. “You’re so fucking hot, so needy for me.” His veins adorn your walls, you start to tear up from the mixture of pleasure and pain. He notices your tears and holds you up so that your back is flush with his chest. 

“It hurts?” he questions, stalling his movement. You feel him twitch. “No, feels s’good Wrio. More” you mewl. He chuckles, and gently wraps his hand around your throat before pumping again.  

“Too good? Am I the best you’ve ever had? Say it.” He moves faster, free hand rubbing your clit. Your knees buckle and eyes roll back to your skull, he takes in the scene of your convulsing figure in the mirror. “S’best I’ve ever had, please ‘m so close!” you rasp, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He chases his high, panting animalistically in your ear.  

“Shit- look how desperate you are. Want me to come inside? Y-yea, I bet you fucking do”

“‘M coming!” you babble.

“Good. Make a mess.” he commands. Fire trails up your limbs, and you tighten before falling apart. Fluttering around him, taking him deeper while you come on his sack. Wriothesley pursues his sputtering hips, spurting thick globs that paint you white. He whimpers as you milk his spasming length dry and presses tired kisses along your shoulder blade. When he comes down from his apex, he turns you over on your back. It’s hard for him to not be proud of your boneless existence sprawled on his bed. You’re both breathing hard in silence, and he leaves for a couple minutes. You’re stunned when he returns with a damp rag to clean you up, and some dark substance in a mug.

You find the strength to sit up while he wipes your lower areas. “Where are my clothes?”

“...For what?”  he mumbles.

“To leave?” It seemed like common sense to you—boxers usually don’t go for long-term relationships, and so you assumed it to be a one-night stand. You dip over the edge of the bed and locate your skirt, but Wriothesely hops up and snatches it before you can. “I’ll put it in the wash. Relax.” 

“I didn’t know you were so hospitable. Do you do this for every girl?” you tease. He gets visibly upset, and shoves the cup from the dresser in your hands. “Don’t piss me off. Now, drink. I’ll order food.” 

Multicolored sunset flaking through the sheer curtains frames his stature while he’s on the phone. You sip the tea, it’s a vile grainy taste. For a moment you imagine what life could be like with him by your side—poor quality tea and an awful temper. In your pleasant aftermath, it doesn’t seem bad at all.

[manakoko]

Genshin NSFW

Various! Genshin Men x Reader

(When you tell him you're close to your release)

Notes: Minors don't interact, p in v sex, unprotected sex (use protection irl), consented, rough sex (Childe, Alhaitham, Wriothesley), soft sex (Diluc, Thoma), mention of breeding (Thoma), dirty talk (Childe and Alhaithan), use of nick names; princess, babygirl (Diluc), whore (Alhaitham), precious, love (Wriothesley).

Diluc of Monstadt, ever the sweetheart

"Diluc.. I'm close.." You tell him with teary eyes, soft moans leaves your lips as your warm walls flutter around him. The feeling of being held tight sends waves of pleasure throughout his entire being. As much as he loves holding her close, he knows what comes next. With a gentle sigh, as he keeps thrusting into you hard and fast, his fingers travelling down to your clit.

"Yes... yes... come now princess... give in to your passion... let everything wash over you..." his fingers move faster against your sensitive spot causing your entire body to shake violently as you cum all over his thick shaft. "That's right babygirl... good girl... take all of me and cum."

Tartaglia the 11th Fatui Harbinger, sweet and teasing

He groans, grabbing your thighs tightly and continuing to pound away at your tight pussy. Your body shakes and quivers underneath him as he continues to fuck you mercilessly.

When you tell him you're close, he grins, leaning down to capture your earlobe between his teeth. "I'm gonna make you come so hard you won't be able to walk for days."

Thoma, the Kamisato's retainer, always giving

"Thoma.. I'm close.. please.." You moan softly "No matter what, please.. cum inside me.. I want to give you a child.. to have a family of our own" Your sudden plea of starting a family drove him wild. He thought of having a family with you for a while, but now that he knows you want to form a family with him too, he soon also becomes desperate for release.

Without hesitation, he begins to thrust harder and faster. The moment she says those words, a deep satisfaction fills his heart. A surge of pure ecstasy shoots through his body, and he cries out your name as he unloads deep inside you, triggering your climax as well. "A-Archons, Y/n, you always know how to rile me up"

Alhaitham, The Acting Grand Sage, mean yet giving

Fulfills your wish, pounding into you with no mercy, grunting with pleasure as you continues to tighten around his shaft. "Ahh...you little filthy whore...you like being used like that, don't you?"

"Mm! Mhm!" You whimper as your pussy keeps tightening around him "P-please.. use me till you're satisfied.."

"That's what I'm doing, princess. Just keep on moaning and tighten around me like this and I'll make you come undone sooner than you think" He begins to speed up his thrusts, driving himself deep within you and holding himself there before pulling out completely and slamming back in repeatedly.

Wriothesley the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide, loving and giving

"Thesley.. oooh please.. harder.. I'm close" You whine as you grind up to sync with his thrusts. His eyes blaze with passion as he listens to you beg for more.

"Of course, my love. Anything you want. I'll never let you down." Wriothesley's pace quickens, his thick cock slamming into you with even more force. He smiles widely, hearing her moan in pleasure.

"That's it, my precious. Give yourself over to me. Let go...let us feel each other through our bodies." He slams deep into you, grinding against your clit as he fucks you relentlessly.

I don't see much Wriothesley smut out here-

[manakoko]

FILLED TO THE BRIM!?!?

“in which your gaming obsessed bf just can’t get enough of his cute lil gf”

RAHHHHHH :3

warnings: fem! reader,breeding, NAWT proof read (i ain reading allat)implied size diff, smut (obviously) degrading cuz i like ‘em mean frl

“did you for real expect me to…shit, let that fucking slide”

Your bf would sometimes like to think that you did stuff like this on purpose.

Bending over in front of his gaming chair to pick up something with those short tiny miniskirts that would always show your ass, sitting on his lap while he was in an intense (and very much vulgar) video gaming battle with his friends, and worst of all “accidentally” cosplaying as one of his favourite characters from his games.

Your bf would sometimes like to think that you did stuff like this on purpose.

so it’s only really natural that your legs are pushed against your stomach as your big bad boyfriend rams into your poor drooling cunt 🤷‍♀️

“Why’re you crying pretty girl? thought’chu wanted this? you chickening out on me baby?” he would say in that condescending and very much hot tone. His words would only spur you on as your velvety plush walls would grip his dick, making a lewd gushing sound an earning a moan from the man.

“ease up on it..shit!” his thrust began to falter as he dragged his cock in you, lifting your hips up to angle them in a way that he was hitting every sensitive spot in you

“m-more! i wan’ more” you moaned. your boyfriend chuckled at that, leaning over to give you a big sloppy kiss. he always called you pretty, his friends too. teasing him about how you were “out of his league”

But he never took it to heart because he knew that when you were displayed out like this, panting like a bitch in heat with fat tears running down your chubby soft cheeks, you were the truly the prettiest.

He smiled at himself

“y’know baby” he panted “if you wanted me to fuck the shit outta ya, then you should’a asked. y’know i’ll give it to ya, i’ll give ya anything you want..shit.. just don’t leave me-ahh” he moaned, rolling his eyes to the back of his skull. he was truly pussydrunk

After a few more of his long dragged out thrusts, he gripped your hips tightly and put his forehead against yours. “m’ cumming baby” he panted as you felt a warm liquid feeling that you know too well, fill your stomach. your boyfriend began to slowly roll his hips, making your mind go numb from the feeling of his dick hitting the spongy part of your cervix and being filled to the brim.

pls spare me, this my first smut yall.

[manakoko]

𝑜 𝒸𝒶𝓅𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃, 𝓂𝓎 𝒸𝒶𝓅𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃 ⑅ ۫ .

ᕱ⑅ᕱ ۪ ۫ 〜 ꒰ gepard landau x f!reader. nsfw — mdni . . . established relationship / public sex ( in an empty corridor ) / reader is clingy n' needy n' also a bit of a tease :3 / u call him ‘captain’ / he calls u ‘angel’ + ‘sweetheart’ / finger suckin’ ♡ / quickies / unprotected sex / creampies / read to da end for a silly littl surprise ^_< ꒰ྀི 1.8k wc

𝒸𝑜𝒸𝑜 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈 . . . geppie ໒꒰ྀི∩´͈ ᐜ `͈∩꒱ྀིა dis is honestly jus’ vv self-indulgent oopsie . . it is also ! my first honkai piece eeee @ . @ i hope u enjoy :3 as always , feedback + rebloops are supa appreciate C: okiz baiii-!

gepard tastes strawberries and cream on your tongue as you pull him into an empty corridor at qlipoth fort, smells sunshine on your neck as you giggle in between cheeky kisses laid over his lips, his forehead, his jaw.

“hey, hey… someone’s going to catch us.” he chides you gently but to no avail, because when you whisper over his cheeks that you don’t care if someone sees, and that you just missed him so much, and that you might die if you went another hour without him, he can’t fight the shy laugh that bubbles in his throat, nor the pretty shade of pink that dusts his ears.

and that pink spreads to his cheeks, down his neck; it turns a deeper shade of rouge when you lean your weight on him and fist at the fur of his collar, breathe soft little noises into his mouth for him to steal and make a home of in his heart. “gepard…”

you sigh his name like that— with that delicate lilt to your voice— it sounds a bit like a dream to him, and he knows it all too well; knows it from all the late nights your toes curl and tap over his broad shoulders, from all the early mornings his fingers and lips have spent pulling honey from in between your legs.

it’s a noise so sweet, so pretty; he thinks himself to be a sinner with how something so innocent and angelic makes his blood run hot and cock throb with need. 

“yes?” exasperation laces his words and the stifled groans that follow when you kiss along the heavy vein of his neck, press your clothed pussy into his sinewy thigh and find his cock already half-hard, twitching and leaking pre from the love you slather over him. he’s inhaling through his teeth when you can only bring yourself to whine in response to his question, tug weakly at the zipper of his slacks; and before you do anything else to weaken his heart, he mumbles into your hair, breath thick with a burning desire that he tries to shove back down his throat, “not now, angel— c-christ, i’m still on duty…” 

a set of metal-plated fingers wrap around your hips, squeeze gently in a silent beg when you stumble back into the wall and curl your fingers into his coat almost woefully, tugging him towards you as best you can to feel more of his warmth. “n-no! no— promise it’ll be quick, please, need you so bad…” 

and against his will, gepard finds himself twisting like a sunflower at the sound of your voice— pitchy and petulant little pleas travelling straight to his cock, to the twitch of his fingers as they dig just a tad more forcefully into your flesh. “sweetheart…” your lover inhales sharply, squeezes his eyes shut to keep from looking into your own; for if he does, he’s afraid he just might give in to your salacious whims. “my guards will notice i’m missing.”

“even if they do, no one can question you about it, right, captain?” you whisper over his lips, squeeze your legs a little tighter around his thigh in an attempt to gain more friction where you need it the most.

“you… you never play fair, do you…” a chill flits down his spine at the name you call him and his head falls forwards to bump against your own, brain clouded with lust and a certain dizziness that makes him feel as though he might faint. 

“pretty please… ‘m already so wet for you, just look,” he follows your gaze to where his thigh has been pressed up against the hot apex of your legs, and the sight of your slick staining the crotch of your panties and white of his pants has him releasing a shaky exhale.

he’s losing his war against the sun.

because the captain of the silvermane guards is famously uncompromising, stubborn, loyal to his job and perhaps to a fault, yet, when you look like this— dusk falling overhead through the stained glass to cast a halo over your head and make visible the hearts in your eyes, when you look as stunning as you do with the sun glowing from your chest, gepard feels like his bones are being seared, his muscles burnt into dust by the heat you envelop him in.

“god, you’re gonna kill me…”

even so, he doesn’t think he minds dying at your hands when it’s like this. he’s admitting defeat before he even realizes it; with your fingers tugging at the blonde that curls around his ears as he hikes up the skirt of your dress with one arm and hooks the back of your knee over the inside of his elbow with the other. and then you’re sighing— all dreamy and blissed out when he hastily pulls his cock out from his slacks and taps his throbbing head over your clit before gliding his length along your soaking folds.

it’s too slow— how he inches into you, pushing his hips back and forth once, twice, three times until your pussy swallows as much of his cock as it can, until the sharpness of his hipbones rubs against your own. and it’s so wrong, so lewd— the position he has you in, his entire body weight caging you against the wall, broad shoulders hiding you from view should any passersby turn the corner and be met with a sight so incredibly… debauch.

you paw desperately at the breastplate of his armour as he fills you up, your tight ring of muscle stretched to accommodate his girth, and no matter how long he takes to prep you, no matter how wet you are, there’s always that initial dull ache that rips through your groin when he pushes into you. it has you lurching into his chest, little sobs of ’s so big, ’s too much pressing hot on his ear.

and, oh, gepard is just so sweet, cradling the back of your head to keep it from hitting the wall as he shushes you softly, “shh, it’s okay, you’re okay— y-you gotta be quiet.” his gentle nature only makes you keen further, makes your legs tremble in his hold and your voice crack from how pitchy your whines get; he’s left with one last option to prevent the two of you from getting caught.

before he can let another sound rip from your throat, he’s tearing off his glove with his teeth, grinding his molars against the worn leather as he pushes two of his fingers past your open mouth, pressing down on your tongue to silence you as best he can.

his assertiveness makes your mind fog up with submission— it has your toes curling at the low baritone of his voice as it drills breathy groans into your ear, your heart feeling the reverberations of the growl bubbling deep in his chest— because, fuck, when you lick and suck at his fingers like that, it shreds away all the remaining patience he has, wears it thin until there’s just one thread left.

“b-baby, you’re all the way in here…” pulling off his digits with a little pop, you whisper through slurred words and bring a palm to your navel, his own hand following suit. he presses down lightly, enough to have you gasping from a blossom of pleasure, enough to have your gummy walls oozing slick around him and clamp down tightly to suck his length in even deeper. he’s so deep— you swear he’s in your womb, and just imagining his cock nestled there, throbbing and leaking hot cum to mark you with a proclamation of his love makes the blood boil blue in your chest, course through your limbs and to the aching twitch of your fingers. “feel you in my tummy, gepard.”

“o-oh, god…”

and that’s when the last thread snaps.

gepard doesn’t think there’s anything else in this universe that makes him lose sight of his cool like you do, because as soon as you’re saying those words in that sinfully sweet voice of yours, he’s given up on letting your little cunt adjust to his size. instead, he’s panting and groaning and fucking up into you without warning— hips ruthless enough in their thrusts to lift your tippy toes off the ground, leaky head of his cock grinding into the spongy patch of tissue that has you wailing out and hiccuping over your cries. "g-gepard!"

it’s almost feral, the way he silences you with his kisses, dipping his tongue into your mouth to explore the sweet concavities, a growl ripping from his throat with each draw of his hips as he grinds into the most sensitive pleasure points lining your wall and rolls his crotch into your neglected clit— his ministrations coax pretty noise after pretty noise from you that he swallows with his own, drawing them down deep into his heart. 

when you begin to hiccup on shallow breaths and your bambi eyes glaze over with honey, gepard realizes he’s worked you up to that soft, dreamy headspace; the words tumble out of your pouty lips before you have a chance to think them through— all slurred and lilted like a sweet dance— because you’re drunk on his cock, and terribly in love with him, and all that. “you’re gonna make me cum.”

you drawl out shakily as he continues to rut up into you, make a mess of your pussy as lewd slapslapslap’s ring through the empty corridor. and when you moan over his mouth and chase after his lips, gently tugging on them and whining a little k-kiss me, gepard, wanna kiss you when i cum, it’s too much.

it’s so much, because it’s only been a short while but the dreamy look in your half-lidded gaze and your pitchy voice send a glow of mind-numbing pleasure through his entire body, down from his chest all the way to his cock— and just like that, he’s cumming alongside you— thrusts sloppy and jerky before he plunges into your completely. spurt after spurt of creamy white ribbon fills your womb, flushing your limbs full of a tingling warmth only he can give you.

your cunt spills his thick seed; it oozes down all sides of his cock, down his balls and to the floor, and in your hazy comedown, your light panting breaks off into a lovely little peal of giggles. “you came s’much… ’s all for me, mhm?”

“mhm… all for my pretty girl,” the sweet sounds you make endear your lover all the more to you; it’s evident by how he smiles tiredly into your hair, sucks in his cheeks in a failed attempt to keep from blushing so much, straightens the bows in your now mussed ponytails, rubs his nose sappily over yours— one way and then the other.

your post-coital bliss ends far quicker than either you want it to, for the clang of metal hitting cobblestone and a disgusted gasp from the eldest landau has your eyes going wide, gepard’s face flushing a deep berry as he stutters over his words and tries to reason.

“ugh, gepard, get a room!”

[manakoko]

minors dni, 18+ afab!reader

I can't stop thinking about jing yuan.. sucking on his fingers that could reach to the back of your throat, you're so small compared to him he could pick you up with one hand..

that being said he is willing to fuck you against a wall at a random alleyway, two muscular hands holding your legs up together so he can thrust easily.. your small hands pressed up against his chest or on his shoulders, he fucks you so hard that he literally hast to shut you up with his mouth. locking his lips with yours as he increases his thrusts.. he cums so deeply in you too!! you swear you can feel it in your womb..

he will breed you, he doesn't mind having little kids running around the house.. he loves the thought of your belly having a bump, it's his way of marking you!! he also loves pressing down on that bump, watching how all of his cum leaves your womb and flows through your cunt.. staining the bed sheets underneath you, but it's okay. he'll just give you another load of his warm, thick cum <3

[manakoko]

minors dni 18+ afab!reader

having big, meanie jing yuan breed you full of his thick cum.. even with his thick cock plunged deep into your hole his cum still seeps out, staining the bedsheets as the small bump in your belly slowly decreases in size..

jing yuan who's back is littered with deep red scratch marks. even if your nails aren't that long or sharp he will always find a way to have you clawing on his back :((

jing yuan who can't help but tease you. doing the exact opposite of what you wanted him to do.. want him to slow down? he's bullying his big dick into you more with his intense speed!!

jing yuan who shoves two fingers down your throat when you get a little too loud.. your loud moans and whimpers echoing through a random alleyway in belobog, expecting you to suck on them like how you would on his cock :((

jing yuan who pushes you into a mating press, his large hands pressing your knees together as you squirm.. the thick head of his cock pressing against your cervix.. surely enough to tear through if he goes harder!!

jing yuan who cums on your panties right before you leave the house, having to walk around the city with his cum on your pussy.. or!! leaving his cum deep in you so you have to hold it in the whole day.. having to embarrassingly ignore the feeling of something sticky slowly sliding down your thigh..

jing yuan who has definitely let blade join in for some fun!! both of them bullying their big dicks into your small hole, kissing your little tears away as they move in sync.. when they both cum inside you it's a whole waterfall!!

[manakoko]

▪︎ Just a little something I wrote while thinking of Al Haitham ▪︎

18+ only. P0rn without plot, Al Haitham x y/n, reader is a female (female anatomy), vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration, creampie, rough smut, finger riding, name calling [princess, honey]. Potential grammar/syntax mistakes. Word count: 496

My AO3 (since Tumblr f*cked up everyone's links). I will upload it on my AO3 as well just in case it gets deleted by Tumblr's guidelines.

Reblogs and likes are much appreciated 💜

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No thoughts, head full of Al Haitham and how small you feel next to his big physique. He doesn't realize how strong he is and his hugs always leave you breathless. It's embarrassing but Al Haitham couldn't care less especially when he's on top of you, hands busy groping your inner thigh while fingering your wet pussy. "You're so tight, honey. Does that feel good?" Your whimpers speak for you. Crazy how deep his fingers reach inside you.

He probably doesn't know good he is at fingering your pussy, so good that you could cum from that alone. Poor baby is probably afraid to go harder on you but the moment you started moving your hips, riding his fingers so eagerly, Al Haitham couldn't hide his shock. "Harder...like this. I want it like this." You moaned. Al Haitham watched as you rode his fingers and the mess your juices made out of them. The feeling of your walls sucking them in was so intense that he couldn't ignore his own need.

"Can you ride my cock like this? Can I put it in?" You gazed at his lustfull eyes. Chest glistening of sweat all the way down his abs. The tip of his cock desperately teasing your clit but you don't fall for it. There's no time for that. You both need it just as bad. You gently grab his cock and guide it inside. Gentleness that is about to disappear once you get used to his size.

Al Haitham is big enough for a good stretch. No matter how wet his fingers made you earlier, it still hurts a little as he pushes it in. "Do your thing, princess." He whispers once he's fully inside you, cock already throbbing from your heat. Al Haitham hugs your waist with his biceps and you throw it back harder than the way he pounds your pussy.

You can feel his sweat on your back and your orgasm approaching. Al Haitham is entirely lost on your wetness and the sounds your bodies make with each stroke. His grip on your waist tightens and your walls suck him in.

"I...I'm cumming" you gasped.

"Hmmmm...yes, so good, so tight..."

Al Haitham clearly wasn't listening. He fiercely pushed your head into the bed and with a final thrust, he finished inside you. His grip on your skull hardened and his free hand squeezed your ass. You were only catching your breath while his hot load was filling you up. It was so much that it started to leak as soon as he pulled out. He got on his knees to take a closer look of the mess he made in your pussy. You slowly turned around only to see him flushed and still brick hard. "A little more of a mess wouldn't hurt, right?" Before you could speak a single word, Al Haitham marked your tummy and boobs with his cum. "You're gonna drive me crazy." Was the last thing he said.

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P.S My intrusive thoughts won y'all. I swear, I'm so horny normal about this man. I also haven't written anything for a whole month. Writer's blocks sucks 🤧 I need to get back at it asap otherwise I'm gonna lose my mind.