#Feel free to steal this if you wanna try!!
Note
making grabby hands and kicking my feet like a baby in a high chair at dinner time for more cute steve and bug blurbs im STILL thinking about the dream blurb 😔 i need more please bbg 😔😔😔🤞
because im feelin nice i will feed yall and i wanna elaborate more on why i consider steve bugs twin flame rather than her soulmate <333 (i actually have two angsty blurbs lined up sol this is to compensate for later)
enjoy <3
"did you just steal a brownie?"
steve stares at you, eyes wide, with crumbs all over his face. "no, why would you think that?"
you set the rack of brownies down and glare at the teen. you know hes lying, he knows you know hes lying, and dustin is a witness to it all. looking at your brother, you cross your arms and inhale deeply. "dustin, did steve take a brownie?"
"im not a part of this."
steve lifts his fist for a fist bump, which he accepts with a slight smirk on his face. seeing this, your annoyance only grows. youve spent all day baking brownies for mikes birthday, and you invited steve over to help since hes grown to like baking with you. however, for the last hour now youve been smacking his grubby fucking hands away from the first batch of brownies that were left to cool on the counter.
"steve," you exhale now, close your eyes and count to ten in your head. youre overheating, the kitchen is unbearably hot in the april spring, and your head pounds as it begs for water. trying desperately to cling onto your sanity, you open your eyes and look at the teen. "this is your last chance before i get violent."
dustins smirk quickly slides off his face at your words. he knows you mean them, he knows youll throw a spatula at the boys any second, yet in his panicked scramble to flee the kitchen, dustin notices that steve doesnt even flinch.
"violent, huh?"
your eyes darken and your hand slowly moves toward the spatula that rests against the counter top. dustin sucks in a breath, now out of spatula range, and watches with amazement as steve remains unphased. "you heard me, harrington."
steve notices the spatula now in your hand, and to dustins horror, he chuckles. "oh, like thats gonna hurt me, angel."
"did. you. steal. a. brownie?" you sneer at him, spatula raised and ready to throw.
"i. did. not." steve lies right through his teeth.
"you fucking liar!" a spatula flies through the air and dustin ducks as it collides against steves chest. "you know ive been working all day on them, youre supposed to ask me before taking anything that i bake!"
and there it is, the explosion that dustin had feared. he winces, youre terrifying when you shout, and yet steve only smiles.
"hey, i helped bake them. dont forget that."
dustin swears he sees your eye twitch. "im sorry?"
"apology accepted!" steve jumps over the counter and scoops you into his arms before you or dustin can even blink. he twirls you around, tickles your side as he spins you, and helplessly all you can do is giggle at his menacing attack. "oh, you dont sound so angry now, y/n!"
"s-stop!" youre breathless, and yet still you laugh as steve continues to dance you around the kitchen and tickle your neck with the side of his nose as he buries his face into your hair. you can feel him smile against your neck, and your heart skips a beat.
however, the fucker stole one of mikes brownies.
you shove against steves chest and free yourself from his grasp. you point a finger at him, stern despite your breathlessness from giggling. "no, im still mad at you!"
"im sorry, angel. i really am." steve grabs the finger aimed at his chest and draws you in yet again. he kisses the finger, soft and sweet, and you melt. the anger is gone, all thats left are your flushed cheeks. "i'll make it up to you, i promise."
dustin finds himself fascinated by this dance between the two of you.
it takes only a second before you accept his apology, which shocks dustin. if it were anyone else, youd hold this over their head all day, yet for steve your forgeivness seems to come naturally. "fine, but im making you crack all the eggs this time. my hands smell."
steve smiles at your demand, he agrees to the conditions, and silently the two of you begin prepping for the next batch of brownies.
dustin stands in the kitchen, completely forgotten about now, and hes baffled by whats just happened. hes never seen someone able to simultaneously anger yet maulify you so quickly. if it had been jonathan, you wouldve shaken your head at him and teased him, maybe flick your spatula at him, but the annoyance wouldve simmered for the rest of the day despite the forgiveness. there wouldve been no theatrical yelling, no ignited eyes and flushed cheeks.
but with steve, the anger diminishes with just a smile, a kiss to your finger. your cheeks are still red, your breathing is still slightly labored, and steve looks just as exhilarated as you do.
it strikes dustin, then, that hes never seen someone handle this side of you before.
its like steve knew how to push all the right buttons to get you to yell at him just so he could wrap you in his arms and make you laugh. distantly, dustin wonders if that had been steves plan all along; get you riled up just to leave you breathless with you in his arms to distract you from your exhaustion.
clearing his throat, dustin decides he should leave. youre whispering to steve softly now, more gigglings arising. "im going to my room, you guys are unbearable to be around."
"love you too!" both you and steve shout back at him, a practiced ease to it after doing this for months now.
dustin cant help but smile; his sister has met her match.
#southelroy#ask#m speaks#come home blurb#m's writing#set in between seasons 2 and 3 !#this one was <333 to write#steve is bugs twin flame#fight me on this#also i wrote spatula a lot#why is it spelled like that
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welcome to my smau list!! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა
౨ৎ feel free to send an ask to my inbox if u have an idea for a smau (no suggestive prompts for under 18 characters) ౨ৎ
jjk smaus
✿ asking jjk men if you can hold their 🍆 while they pee
✿ showing the jjk men ur new piercings
✿ asking the jjk men if you can peg them
✿ changing “babe” to autocorrect to “whore” in their phone
✿ “shes busy rn”
✿ leaving without telling the jjk guys
✿ “he’s busy rn”
✿ getting ur nails the color of their tip
✿ forbidden relationships
✿ drawing a heart with their tip
✿ baby fever
✿ drunk texting the jjk men
✿ jjk men having a wet dream about you
✿ asking them for a hand pic
✿ jjk mean reacting to their contact name
✿ asking jjk characters what their fav sex act is
✿ telling the jjk guys you spent $200 on tire air
✿ “wrong person” nudes prank
✿ jjk characters reactions to you getting harassed/ hit in
✿ jjk characters finding out you got injured
✿ ass or tits
✿ giving them suprise flowers
✿ asking the jjk characters to take your virginity
✿ telling the jjk characters you want to get them pregnant
✿ getting flowers from someone else and thinking it was from them
✿ getting jealous of you hanging out with someone else
✿ stealing your panties
✿ cuddles after sex
✿ innapropreate package mixup
✿ wax my 😽
✿ sending them porn you wanna recreate
✿ when they drunk text you
✿ them asking you on a date for the first time
✿ sending nudes in the middle of an argument
✿ getting a necklace with their initial
✿ being a woman/man for a day question
✿ controlling your bluetooth vibe
✿ when you leave a kiss mark on them
✿ asking you to stay the night for the first time
✿ the call ending after you fall
✿ “they just left you can come over now”
✿“if i gave you a pass to call me a bitch how would you use it”
✿ “i didn’t finish last night“ prank
✿“i got arrested”
✿ when they find ur smut
✿ editing them to look bad in a photo
✿ accidentally sending them nudes (pre relationship)
✿ the jjk characters sending you gym pics
✿ getting scared watching a scary movie
✿ finding out they punched ur stuffed animals
✿ when they see you in someone else’s jacket
✿ asking them their fav pet name is in bed
✿ when you start your period unprepared
✿ when you see them with another girls belongings
✿ asking them if they like having sex with you
✿ asking them for happy trail pics
✿ when they ask for nudes and you send an unsuggestive pic
✿ asking them if they have a crush on you
✿ when they find ur toy
✿ anxious before ur wedding
✿ taking pics of you when you fall asleep
✿ asking them for a whimper audio
✿ when they cheat on you
✿ having a dream they cheated on you
✿ when they get hit on/harassed
✿ the morning after ur first time having sex
✿ accidentally saying i love you for the first time before ending the call
✿ asking them if they only like you for sex
✿ offering them head to relax them
✿ asking them to kill a spider for you
✿ their reactions to a sexy picture you posted
✿ pregnancy scary
✿ ”sex has been boring” prank
✿ their card declined prank
✿ getting lost in public
✿ asking them if you can stack donuts on it
✿ asking them to pick out a new toy for you
✿ waking up in their body
✿ them reacting to you crying over a dumb video
✿ catching them masturbating
✿ getting a noise complaint
✿ when they catch you masturbating
✿ when they catch you singing
✿ finding a hair that isn’t urs
✿ telling them their nut tastes bad
✿ trying anal
✿ comforting you when you’re burnt out
✿ when they take an aphrodisiac
✿ asking them to find ur 😽 in a lineup
✿ asking them how much money they have
✿ asking about a threesome
✿ what’s their sexual fantasy?
✿ asking them if they’ll put it in soft
✿ slapping their ass and running away
✿ asking them for their friends number
✿ selling their stuff online prank
✿ asking if they’d get a genital piercing
✿ making them sleep on the couch
✿ asking what their body count is
✿ asking them to give you a hickey
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“oh, you poor thing…” you murmur, stroking megumi’s hair. he’d been caught in the rain during the walk home yesterday, and had come down with a bit of a cold. the seven year old is curled up next to you on the couch, his head resting in your lap.
you glare at satoru when he scoffs from his end of the couch, the tip of his nose rosy and dripping with snot. “i was caught in the rain too, you know.”
“take some nyquil.”
you don’t even bother to spare his suffering a glance.
“can i have hot chocolate?” the little brat asks, his request followed by a weak cough. “my throat hurts.”
it’s almost ten in the evening, and the kid’s already brushed his teeth. there’s no way you’d say yes—
“of course! i’ll make some for your sister too.”
satoru’s mouth falls open - because he can’t breathe through his nose and because he’s shocked. “can i have some too?”
“i’ll make you tea with lemon and ginger,” you reply, carefully adjusting megumi on the couch as you get up. you even steal his blanket, draping it over the kid’s curled up form.
megumi peeks one eye open as soon as you leave, and satoru swears the smirk that follows is directed at him.
people have told him that kids are supposed to be gifts. but later - when he’s watching a lame documentary and choking down some bitter lemon ginger tea as megumi is spoiled with sips of chocolately heaven - he thinks they must mean gifts from hell.
_____
your lips are brushing over satoru’s collarbone when he wonders if he’d locked the bedroom door.
but then you bite and all his concerns go out the window.
your breath is hot against his skin, picking up when his hands grip your waist. chests rising and falling, the two of you love in sync. slow, deep kisses are exchanged in time with gentle grinds—
“i’m hungry.”
it makes satoru startle, banging his head against the headboard as you sit up, stuttering as you both turn to face the doorway.
“megumi,” you gasp. “how long have you been standing there?”
the blush colouring his cheeks is answer enough.
“i’ll make you something to eat,” you offer, leaving your boyfriend with a very unfortunate situation as you climb off his lap, shooting an apologetic look over your shoulder as you herd megumi out of the room.
satoru swears the kid shoots him a smug grin over his shoulder.
this, he thinks glumly as he heads to the bathroom to try and calm himself down. this is why he needs to stop doing nice things.
_____
exhausted can’t even begin to describe the way satoru feels after a long day of bugging nanami and exorcising curses.
he’s practically dragging his body through the apartment towards the bedroom, wanting nothing more than to strip out of his uniform and fall into bed next to you.
but he can’t, because the first thing he sees when he opens the bedroom door is megumi hogging his side of the bed.
you press your index finger to your lips as soon as satoru opens his mouth to protest. “tsumiki’s at a sleepover,” you explain.
“so? i’ll carry him back to his room—”
you make a noise if protest, waving his hands away as you whisper, “it’s his first night here without her.”
hands on his hips, satoru examines the very little free space left on the bed. “so that means you’d let me sleep on the couch?”
he doesn’t like sleeping alone. hasn’t liked it ever since you’d moved in and he’d decided he liked waking to the warmth of your body next to his.
“well, you could sleep in megumi’s bed.”
“or you could wake him up,” he counters loudly on purpose, earning a shush and a glare from you in answer.
“this is a good thing,” you insist once you’ve ensured the kid’s still asleep. “it means he trusts us!”
“but i’m tired,” he whines, even stamping his foot a little for emphasis. “i wanna cuddle with you.”
“fine,” you relent with a little sigh. “but you have to wake him.”
gleefully, he goes to shake the kid awake. he’s about to do it, but all it takes is one look at the peaceful look settled over that little face. over the year he’d gotten to know megumi, he’s only ever worn a scowl, or a look of general boredom. so to see him like this, finally settled into the household…
it’s enough to make the sorcerer smile, even as he sets up the makeshift bed of blankets on the bedroom floor.
_____
“sharing is caring,” satoru proposes the next afternoon at the dinner table. it’s just him and megumi right now, as you’d just left to visit shoko. “so you can cuddle with her on the couch, but the bedroom is all me, got it?”
megumi frowns, staring at the list (can he even read yet? gojo has no idea) “but what about movie night?”
“fine, but only for a little bit. after that she’s all mine.”
he takes the kids shrug as agreement and moves on.
“knocking,” he starts with the utmost seriousness. “is a very important thing to do when any door is closed. and next time tsumiki is out, you’re the one sleeping on the floor.”
(they both know that’s not going to happen, but it doesn’t hurt to try.)
once the terms of their deal are finalized, they shake on it.
“so we’ve come to an understanding, good. because i’d rather have you as my bro than my foe,” he says, dragging the edge of his thumbnail across his throat for emphasis.
megumi rolls his eyes before sauntering off to his bedroom, and satoru sighs, letting his forehead hit the tabletop with a dull thud.
he’d fought off suitors vying for your attention before, but never one as tough to beat as this one.
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#gojo fluff#keeping up with the fushigojos
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pretty baby (m)
synopsis. you’re just too pretty to resist.
warnings. MATURE. explicit sex, unprotected sex (BE SMART IRL N WRAP IT] yandere themes, praise, marking, overstimulation, kissing, biting, rough toji, TOXIC!TOJI, lovesick toji, sadistic undertones, mentions of crying, he calls you pretty like 100 times lmao, mdni.
disclaimer: this is purely fictional and this is NOT a healthy relationship so please please do NOT ROMANTICISE THIS BEHAVIOUR! triggering themes, viewer discretion is advised!
note. lmao my first explicit smut… i don’t know how I’m feeling about this though…. haha I’m a rookie when it comes to smut so…. don’t expect much!!!! enjoy!!!
“baby don’t be like that now.” He whispers into your ear, his hot breath fanning right over your neck as you shiver, feeling his large palms dragging down your body,
You can’t speak, he’s too intense for you to handle. The pad of his thumb is pressed against your cheek as you steal a quick glance at his face.
He’s a gorgeous man.
His grey orbs are hazy with lust, a dark hue in them, it makes your skin feel icky. You barely notice when his thumb travels over to your lip, caressing the meat softly.
His fingers are dangerously close to your mouth.
“You look so cute when you pout like this, baby.” He chuckles, “how’re you so fuckin’ pretty hmm?” He leans down to press a kiss on your lips, it’s a quick peck but you can feel yourself getting closer to your high.
“my pretty baby. the prettiest ever!” He groans, burying himself deeper into you, you whimper, his praise is making you feel dizzy.
“You should look at yourself, fuck you’re so pretty that I’m almost not angry at you.”
“could eat you up whole,” he grits his teeth to stop his moaning when he feels you tightening around him, it feels so good.
“Ha you like this huh, baby?” He teases you, you can’t help but mewl when he pinches your nipple gently. “S-Stop!” You are not sure if you mean it though, it almost comes out of your mouth reluctantly, he notices immediately.
“Stop? You want me to stop? I’m not sure if that’s the truth, sweetheart because you’re clenching so hard around me like a slut.” He can be mean, your cheeks feel so hot.
“Yn baby, you wan’to to cum?” He is now merciless with the way he’s fucking you, you want to resist but he makes it so hard.
“can’t hear ya,” your husband is a cruel man, but he fucks you so good that you feel stupid. “y-yes please!” You close your eyes when he lifts your chin up when you try to look down.
Bastard.
“What was it huh? Couldn’t hear you clearly.” He repeats himself once again, nuzzling his face into your neck.
You feel the coldness of his teeth graze your skin.
“You don’t get to cum sweetheart? Do ya know why?” He slams into you so hard that your vision blurs, a loud moan escapes your mouth before you can realise.
“Because you’ve been so bad to me, ignoring me like I’m nothin’ to you?” He’s brutal, Toji bites your neck, sucking on the skin, you know he’s marking you.
He’s so fucking cruel.
“You’re mine, my pretty baby, my fuckin slut!” He growls, his tone is thick, you want to cry because it’s getting too much for you to control.
“P-Please toji!” You beg your husband but he doesn’t respond, his tongue feels so soothing when he licks up his fresh mark on your neck.
“Please what?”
You’re so dizzy with pleasure right now, it hurts but it feels so good.
“You wanna cum? Then tell me who fucks you so good like this huh? Who owns you?”
“Tell me baby and I’ll let you free.”
#toji smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#toji fushiguro smut#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere jjk#jjk x reader#toji x y/n#toji x reader#yandere smut#jjk fic#toji fushiguro x reader#smut
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Uppercut*
Summary: The fourth part to Knockout*
The one where Harry is fighting everyone. Even you.
Word Count: 9.1k (I mean at this point it's just tradition)
Content Warning: 18+, angst, smut, exhibitionism
The halls of the subway station are quiet. Empty. A light flickers overhead, casting odd shadows across the concrete floor that lead you toward him.
The hooded figure sits on a lone bench, face downcast toward the ground. His leg is bouncing anxiously, a nervous habit you’d recognize anywhere. His fingers are curled around the seat below, as if holding himself back. Keeping himself still.
And then, he looks up.
Those soft green eyes find yours, and suddenly, everything is okay. Your limbs no longer ache from the strenuous shift at the diner, your heart no longer feels weary. You feel energized and alive, and you’ve never been happier to see his face.
Harry smiles when he recognizes you, instantly leaping up as you approach, and pulling you into his arms.
He hugs you. Pulls you directly into his chest and keeps you there as you laugh and whisper your hello.
“Hi,” he whispers back, lips nestling into the crown of your head. He releases a deep sigh. “Missed you so much.”
“I missed you, too.” You cling to his sweatshirt and allow your eyes to flutter shut. Indulging in the scent of him. The warmth. Stability. “Are you all right?”
“Better now. Are you?”
“Mhm.” You nod but refuse to let him go. “Was a little surprised to get your note, though.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs before finally pulling away. Allowing himself a good look at your face that makes his dimple pop free. “Figured it was the safest way. Don’t wanna risk somebody seeing us out there. And I thought maybe this could be our thing.”
“Our thing?”
He chuckles to himself and brings his palm to your cheek. Cradling it gently while running his thumb back and forth along the soft skin. “Yeah. Meeting up in the dark subway in the early morning hours. Sneaking around, trying not to get caught. Forbidden love and all that.”
Love. There’s that word again, and it makes your head spin. Dizzy in the best and worst way possible.
“How romantic of you,” you tease instead, reaching up to squeeze his wrist. “All right. This can be our thing.”
“Good.” He dips down and kisses you now. Slow and hard, exactly the way you like it. Keeping you against his lips for far longer than he should, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Might steal you away every night.”
With a soft grin of your own, you kiss him back. “You better.”
After allowing you enough time to catch your breath, he leads you back over to his bench. Curling up beside you while simultaneously tucking you into his side. Hiding you away from the rest of the world, and the few stragglers that are entering and exiting the subway.
“Did you have a good day?” he asks, mouth ghosting across your temple as he speaks.
You nod, keeping yourself snug under his arm. “Mhm. Wasn’t as busy as it usually is.”
“Yeah? You make anything good?”
“Snickerdoodle cookies.”
He gasps, rather dramatically, and it makes you laugh. “Cherry, you know those are my favorite.”
“Oh, really?”
“Really, really.” He kisses your cheek almost absentmindedly before continuing. “Especially the way you make ‘em. Told you that, didn’t I?”
“Maybe. Don’t know if I was really listening, though.”
“No? You don’t listen when I talk, sweet girl?”
You smirk. “Sometimes I get a little distracted.”
“With what, baby?”
“Your…mouth,” you admit somewhat sheepishly. “Sometimes I just like to watch your lips move. And then I forget to listen to what’s coming out of them.”
He laughs now, and the sound is infectious. Bouncing around the concrete walls until you giggle. “Is that right?”
“It’s not my fault,” you pout playfully, reaching up to brush your thumb along the pretty, pink fibers at your disposal. They’re healing nicely from the last fight, and you feel relieved. “You have such a pretty face.”
He hums against your finger before pressing into it, leaving a soft kiss. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
“So do you,” he whispers, dropping his voice into something soft and seductive. “See your face in mind every time I close my eyes.”
And it shouldn’t make your stomach flutter the way it does, but you find yourself biting back a sigh as you scoot impossibly closer. “You’re silly.”
“Am I?” Another kiss to your thumb before he moves down your hand and toward your wrist. Leaving a trail of them in his wake. “What if m’being serious?”
Your breath catches and you watch his mouth move closer and closer. “Then you’re seriously silly.”
His lips twitch up. “If I am, it’s because that’s what you make me.” Another collection of gentle kisses along the inside of your arm. “Think about you every hour…of every goddamn day.”
You feel lost on him. Drowning in his aurora, and this hypnotic haze he’s lured you into. Unaffected by the people around you, or the way this might look.
All you really notice…is him.
“And believe me, sweet girl,” he continues in a huskier murmur, “the things I think about are anything but silly.”
Your pulse skips from somewhere beneath your chest while a whimper bleeds from your throat. You brace yourself against his stronger frame as his kisses reach the sleeve of your uniform, just beneath your shoulder.
He only stops once to meet your eye. “D’you wanna know what I think about, baby?”
Your first instinct is to nod, but you catch yourself just in time. Forcing yourself to finally say the one thing you’ve been meaning to all evening. “I wanna know what you’re gonna do about Jesse.”
He leans back, and the devious expression falls away.
“I don’t want him to hurt you, Harry,” you rush to explain, allowing him to drop your arm only so you can take hold of his. “I’m worried about you.”
“Please,” he snorts. “Jesse can’t fucking hurt me. Couldn’t hurt me even when he was in the fucking ring with me.”
Your eyebrow cocks up. “…what?”
A nonchalant shrug, almost like he doesn’t realize what he’s said. Or he doesn’t care. “Few years ago, back when he wasn’t such a little shit. He was one of the fighters."
And suddenly…it hits you. Slaps you across the face and leaves a permanent palm print. “How many years ago?”
He seems to realize around the same time you do, eyes softening as he rolls his shoulders back. “Three or four, I think.”
You feel the blood drain from your face. Feel your hands grow shaky and your heart begin to wrench. “He was…he was fighting. When he was with me.”
Not exactly a question. Rather a conclusive statement you both stumble onto as the picture becomes clearer.
There were a lot of things about Jesse you never learned. His anger always being his biggest question mark.
You saw the subtle scars that were occasionally smeared along his knuckles or painted across his back. But his excuse was always a vague, mumbled explanation of, “Oh, just this buddy of mine at the gym. We like to box sometimes. I’m fine.”
And that was that.
You figured what he did at the gym was his own business. And you had no reason to believe it was anything more than a few rounds with a friend. Had no reason to believe it was something bigger. That he was lying to you.
And perhaps, in some ways, he wasn’t lying. He was boxing, just not at the local gym. And certainly not for free.
“Cherry,” Harry calls to you now, reaching out to intertwine his fingers with yours. Tugging your hands onto his lap to recapture your attention. “Baby—”
“I’m okay,” you whisper, a bit airier than you mean to before clearing your throat. “I’m fine. I always knew he was doing something, I just…this makes sense.”
He’s unconvinced, frowning to himself before squeezing your palms. “You might not have known him very well, but I do. Okay, I know this side of him, and I know that he’s nothing more than a bunch of empty threats and a checkbook. And I’m not gonna let him hurt me. Or you. Never you.”
And even though your stomach is turning, you believe him. “I know. But what if…what if he tries to do something? To you, during your fights? What if…what if he sends somebody after you?”
To your surprise, he smirks. “Come on, do you really think I’m scared of some hitman? I know you haven’t seen very many of my fights, but believe me, baby, I can handle it.”
You, however, don't smile. “Harry, I’m serious.”
“I thought I was serious.”
“Harry.” You pout again and tug on his hands. “You didn’t see how angry he was—”
“I did,” he argues, the smug grin slipping away. “I know exactly how fucking mad he was, and all because I lost him a couple of fights. And I don’t give a shit because he’s nothing but a fucking rat.”
“Yeah. But he’s a rat that’s threatening to hurt you.”
The darkened expression returns, and his frown makes you want to cry. He’s far too beautiful to look so anguished. “I don’t care. I told you, he can’t hurt me—”
“But he can hurt me,” you interrupt, and his jaw snaps shut. “By hurting you, he hurts me. I mean, just the way he looked at you. The way he talked about you, it just…it…God, it made my fucking skin crawl, Harry.”
The crasser language that slips from your tongue seems to entertain him and disappoint him all in the same moment.
“Okay,” he mumbles in a lower volume, almost as though hoping to talk you down. “Okay, I know—”
“No, you don’t know,” you argue. “You…you don’t want him to hurt me, and yet he is. And he doesn’t have to, okay? You just have to win, and he doesn’t care. As long as you win.”
The frown seems to get deeper. “Cherry…it’s not just about winning. He’s put a fucking price on my head and expects me to pay it. And I told you, I’m tired of playing his fucking games.”
You squeeze his hands a bit harder, desperate to understand. “Is that why you threw the fights?” you ask gently. “To piss him off?”
Another shrug. Angrier. “Not exactly. I just figured he’d drop me if I wasn’t doing the one thing he wanted me to.”
Your eyes flick between his. “But it’s not that easy.”
“No,” he agrees. “Because he’s a fucking weasel that thinks he can use you to get what he wants from me. And I won’t let him.”
Your heart drops into your toes as the two of you grow quiet. Undeterred by the sounds of the subway entering and exiting the station, the screeching lines and opening doors. You’re immersed in your own little bubble here with him, unable to hear anything past the pounding in your ears.
“So what do we do?” you dare to ask.
He sighs again before bringing your entangled hands to his mouth. Kissing your fingers as he thinks. “I don’t know,” he admits quietly, and it looks like he wants to say more…but he stops.
So, you finish for him. “Let’s leave.”
“What?”
You nod quicky and glance toward the tracks. “Let’s leave. Let’s just get on the train and go somewhere. Start a new life. No more Jesse, no more fights, no more threats. We can just leave.”
A hint of a smile is all you’re afforded before he chuckles and kisses your hands once more. “And I thought I was the silly one.”
“No, I mean it,” you insist. “We could, we could leave, we could start over. We could be happy. Just you and me. And a bunch of pies.”
There’s a gentle beat before his brows begin to furrow. “Cherry,” he mumbles, and you feel your heart sink.
You knew it was a long shot. Knew there was really no logic behind the suggestion, only the need to take action. And for just a moment, you liked the picture you were painting. Of you and him in a sweet little house somewhere out in the country. Working your typical 9 to 5 jobs before coming home to make dinner together.
Perhaps it's a little old fashioned and a bit mundane, but it looks so beautiful compared to what you have now. And you imagine any life would be exciting with him at the center of it.
“I know,” you finally whisper, allowing your shoulders to slump. “But…I had to try.”
His amused grin returns before he tugs you closer in order to kiss you. And it’s quick and playful and everything you’ve ever needed. An almost perfect fix for this ache in your chest.
“And I love that,” he tells you, and the second use of the forbidden word leaves you breathless. Even more so than the kisses. “But m’gonna be okay, sweet girl. I won’t let him hurt us.”
And you want to believe him. Want to be sure that Jesse is nothing more than a footnote in this new chapter you’ve opened together.
But something doesn’t feel right.
Because there’s this look in his eye. The same look you saw that night in the ring. Animalistic and unrelenting. Like he could split somebody in half and never think twice about it.
“And how are you gonna do that?” you whisper, reaching out to tangle your fingers in the hoodie on his chest. “Huh? Are you just gonna beat him up until he changes his mind?”
“Maybe.” He’s smiling, but there’s something serious in the way he speaks, and your stomach wrenches. “What? He’s used to getting the shit beat out of him.”
“Harry—”
“Cherry.” He leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek. “Don’t have to worry, okay? I’ll be all right.”
You’re ready to argue with him, another excuse already locked and loaded, but before you can fire it, he brings his hand to your temple. Sweeping his thumb along your forehead with a much softer expression.
“You know, you get the cutest little wrinkle when you frown,” he tells you, brushing his finger down the space between your eyebrows. “Right…here.”
You bite the inside of your lip to keep from giggling. “Oh, do I?”
“Mhm.” He smooths his touch along your skin before moving to your jaw. Tracing the line almost reverently. “There’s a lot of things about you that are cute.”
“Is that right?”
He nods once before he’s dropping both hands to your hips in order to lead you over to his lap. Placing your knees on either side of his waist and holding you there while you squeal.
And he doesn’t seem to care about anything else but you. Not the people walking by or the chilly gust of wind that dances through the station. He gazes up at you and brushes a bit of hair behind your ear. Taking in the details of your face as if memorizing every inch of you.
“I think you’re beautiful, Cher,” he tells you, and not for the first time. “And I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
You wrap your arms around his shoulders as you settle, finding stability in more ways than one. “Well, I think you’re being silly again.”
“Yeah?” He smirks as you dip down to brush your nose with his. “Then maybe I need to prove to you just how much I mean it.”
One of his large hands slides from your hip to your ass, squeezing you just over your uniform. And you laugh as you playfully swat at his chest, although you can’t deny there’s a part of you desperately searching for more.
Ever since the other night, you’ve felt rather insatiable. Distracted by the memory of him in your hand – of the weight and the feel. You see his body when you close your eyes, see the tattoos, and ridges, and lines. The curve of his spine and his hips and his thighs.
And you’re reminded again of exactly how thrilling it was when you feel him beneath you. A gentle, subtle graze of something hard as you’re rocked over his lap. And it makes your breath catch.
“Harry,” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.
His lashes flutter closed before he ghosts his lips along the edge of your cheek. “What, baby?”
Another pull to your hips makes you sigh, fingers tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck. “This isn’t fair.”
“Why?”
“Because…” You stumble over a whine before bracing yourself against his chest. “Because we can’t. Not here.”
“Not here?” he repeats, almost teasingly. “Why not here? Don’t want them to watch, sweet girl?”
You don’t have the strength to shake your head.
“Don’t want them to watch you grind yourself against my lap, like my desperate little bunny?” He grins and it’s so very devious. “Don’t want them to see just how needy you really get for me?”
And maybe…there’s a small part of you that does.
Common sense evades you now as you pant, “I do. I do, Harry, please.”
He’s amused by this. At your determination to take whatever he'll give. Soft, gentle hands slipping their way beneath the hem of your uniform, stroking and groping as though playing with you. Taunting you with the idea of more only to take it away with a kiss.
“Do you trust me?” he asks you now, eyes flicking to yours.
It’s the easiest answer you’ve given all night. “Yes. Yes, I do. Always.”
He smiles, filled with relief before he’s nodding his chin at you. “Okay, baby. Turn around for me, yeah?”
A bit confused, you rearrange yourself over his lap. Settling down with your back against his chest while his hands sneak around your waist to keep you still.
Those beautiful fingers land on your thighs, just above the hem of your dress. They toy with the fabric almost absentmindedly and you whimper beneath a strained breath as you wait.
“Shh,” he coos, resting his lips along the shell of your ear. “I’ve got you. Told you I’ll always take care of you, didn’t I?”
You nod as your head falls back onto his shoulder. Unable to hold itself up any longer while he does this to you.
Your attention lands on the train just a few hundred feet in front of you as it slowly begins to roll down the tracks before taking off. A gust of wind follows, sweeping across your cheek, and sending a chill down your spine.
Your small shiver makes him smirk. “Relax, Cherry. You’re all right.”
There are only three other people in the station, all scattered about on opposite ends, checking their phones, and reading their newspapers. None of them close enough to see what he’s really doing to you, and you imagine even if they could, they wouldn’t care.
Yet the idea that any one of them could look up and glance over is thrilling. Worsening the ache between your thighs as Harry’s thumb finally slips beneath the hem.
“Breathe,” he instructs gently, instructing you to take a deep breath which you shakily do. “If you want me to stop, you tell me, yes?”
You bite back a whine. “I don’t want you to stop. Promise.”
“But if you do,” he insists, slowing the stroking of his hand until you nearly wilt, “you tell me. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” you agree quickly. “Yes, I understand, I promise.”
Satisfied, he continues. Slipping his touch further up your legs while making sure the edge of your dress doesn’t move. Keeping you covered while he does this, offering you just an ounce of privacy. And you’re so grateful for him.
He crawls higher and higher until he finds the soft lace of your underwear. Tracing the band almost lazily, running up and down the curve of your thigh without ever giving in.
“Harry,” you sigh, reaching for his wrist to compel him. “Harry, please—”
“Shh,” he hushes again, nudging his nose against your cheek. “Said I’ve got you, and I do. M’gonna make it better, baby, I promise. Just wanna play with you first. Wanna feel you.”
You’re tempted to argue that he’s nowhere close to actually feeling you yet, but you realize then that he means more than that. He wants to take in every inch of your skin at his disposal. Wants to feel the softness of your hip, the goosebumps along your thighs. Wants to learn you, study you, memorize you. Simply exist with you in his arms.
You unwind in his embrace, allowing him to indulge in you exactly the way he wants. But the coil in your stomach grows tighter at the tender implication, making your desperation for him that much stronger.
Finally – finally – he moves closer. Brushing the tips of his fingers down the front of you, just over your covered clit and down.
He does it again. Over and over, albeit idly, while effectively worsening your need, making you whimper.
He only grins. “S’that bad, baby, huh?”
And you don’t need to answer for him to know that it is. He can feel it. Can feel exactly how anxious you are to be touched as he continues his soft strokes.
Then…he hooks his finger around the band and pulls.
The brisk morning air instantly finds the inside of your warm thighs, and you gasp. Squirming over his lap until he has to use one hand to hold you still. Shushing you once again while squeezing the top of your leg soothingly.
“I know,” he murmurs, allowing you no more than a few seconds to adjust before brushing his thumb down your pussy. “But I need you to stay quiet for me, okay? Can you do that, sweet girl?”
You nod, thankful that your outburst didn’t draw too much attention from the others in the station. But it seems that was only the start as Harry continues his playful flicks and pulls. Attempting to unravel you as quickly as possible, despite your muffled whimpers for mercy.
He starts with your clit. Circling it a few times with his large digits until he can really wind you up. Slow touches that turn fast, his lips trailing from your cheek and to your neck.
He kisses you as he does this. Nips at your skin, tugs it between his teeth, soothes it with his tongue. Marking you – claiming you. In more ways than one.
“Oh, Cherry,” he hums after a moment, and your insides wrench. “You’re all wet, baby. S’it that bad? S’it hurt that bad?”
You’d like to nod, but you don’t have the capacity. Only enough strength to squeeze his wrist and whisper, “Harry—”
“Mm. I know. Gonna let me have some?”
You finally convince your head to move up and down while he chuckles and brings his other hand into play. One, large digit slipping between your folds and down to where your arousal has collected while the others continue stroking your clit.
And it’s almost too much. This screaming in your head for more. To be filled and fixed by the only man who can help you.
And it’s not his cock, but his finger does feel beautiful. Pushing in to your tightness while your walls are quick to draw him in.
It’s ecstasy. Pure, unadulterated bliss. Happening right in the middle of this dimly lit subway station and the people who might see.
And yet…you’ve never felt safer. Never felt more alive and in control of your own experience. Even if it’s slightly dangerous and perhaps not something you previously would have considered. With Harry it feels…different. Destined. Because you know he means it when he says he’ll take care of you. After all, he always does.
When he reaches his knuckle, you keen, releasing a strangled groan that’s much too loud.
He takes the hand on your clit away in order to smack it against your mouth. Keeping you quiet until you finish.
“Baby,” he warns, but it’s sympathetic, “gotta try for me, okay? Gotta try to stay quiet.”
You nod again as you swallow the rest of your noises. But he keeps his palm against your lips, wet fingertips stroking your cheek. Painting you with your own arousal.
He begins to pump you slowly. Retracting almost all the way only to ease back in. It’s a steady pace he sets, but it’s addictive. Keeping you on the brink without ever actually offering you what you really need. Never scratching that itch.
“Harry,” you try, the sound of his name muffled by his hand.
But he understands, nevertheless, kissing just below your ear before finally lowering his arm. “What? What do you need?”
More, more, more. One, singular word that’s ringing between your ears, loud and insistent. “Please…”
He hums. “Please,” he repeats. “Please…what?”
“Need…need—”
“Need? What do you need? Need me?”
“Yes,” you nearly gasp. “Yes, Harry, please. Hurts…”
And it does hurt. You’ve never felt an emptiness like this. Never felt so hollow and depraved. But he’s the only one who can fix it, and your eyelids grow heavy as you push yourself further back into his chest.
The tip of a second finger begins to tease your opening before he’s pushing both in. And it’s almost too easy, the sound of your arousal being pulled in and out rather loud. And so very lewd. Too much eroticism for you to handle, and it feels as though your limbs have turned to jelly as you slump in his hold.
“Okay, baby,” he whispers, tugging your earlobe between his teeth. “Gonna come for me, yeah? Just give me one. Just need to feel you around my fingers one time.”
And it’s an easy instruction. You can already feel the seams of your sanity coming loose as he returns to your clit and pinches it between his fingers.
The combination of pleasure from both of his hands is almost cruel, and it makes your heart wrench. Because it’s so close, you can taste it. Can swallow it whole, and you’ve never felt so insatiable. The urge to just have him rather prevalent and undeniable. You imagine if you could, you’d wrap yourself around him and never let go.
And you don’t think he’d really mind.
Your hips buck up the moment he curls his touch, a soft sigh fighting its way between your parted lips.
And you’re so enamored by him. So endlessly addicted to the man doing this to you, and you can feel the way your orgasm barrels closer. The way he teases you with the thought of release, dangling it directly in front of you.
“There you go,” he breathes, and you can feel him against your back. The groan that sits in his chest as he works you closer. “So good, yeah? Love the way you squeeze me.”
As if at the mention, you feel yourself clench around his large digits. Pussy fluttering until he’s dropping his mouth to your shoulder in order to stifle his own sounds.
“S’fucking tight,” he mumbles before repeating the action again. “God, you’re so tight, sweet girl. I’d fucking ruin you, wouldn’t I?”
You nod fervently, the image of his cock painting itself behind your eyelids. The length, the girth, the way it looks between his thighs. He would, he’d ruin you. In the best possible way. And you’d thank him for it.
You can feel him beneath you, just below your ass. And he’s glorious. Cursing to himself whenever you squirm over his cock, taunting him about the same way he’s taunting you.
It’s clear he’s losing the battle for control. Whispers of, “Oh, my sweet girl. My fucking girl. Aren’t you? Never knew how good he had it, did he?”
He doesn’t need to say Jesse’s name for you to know exactly who he’s referring to, and your stomach lands in your throat.
You don’t want to imagine him when you’re with Harry. And you don’t think Harry does, either. But he grits the insinuation out through clenched teeth before settling into a faster rhythm.
“Could fucking kill him,” Harry seethes. “Could pull his heart out of his goddamn chest just for fucking looking at you.”
He presses hard into your clit until you’re forced to bite your tongue. Drinking down your whimpers and cries as one of the men across the station folds his paper and begins to stand.
You pray he doesn’t look over, pulse thumping wildly against your ribcage. And yet, at the same time, you want him to know. Want them all to know what your stranger is doing to you. To watch you fall apart by his hand until you’re nothing but a pile of pants and sighs.
“For touching you,” he continues in your ear, a disdained hiss that makes your eyes roll back. “For putting his fucking hands on what’s mine.”
You squeeze his wrist so hard, you’re sure you’ll leave a bruise. But it doesn’t seem to matter because he goes faster. Harder. Plunging his fingers in and out of your cunt at an unrelenting pace. Needing you to cum more than he’s ever needed anything else.
“Come on,” he urges, kissing down your neck with a faint grumble. “God, come on, Cherry. Come for me. Let me feel you, just one more time.”
You’re almost there. Can feel the beginnings of your orgasm brightening the edges of your vision. You need far more than he’s giving you and yet, at the same time, you’ve never felt so satisfied.
“Show me how good you are,” he murmurs. “Show me how good you’re gonna be for me, taking my cock. All laid out in my bed. Tears down your pretty, little face.”
And you can see it so clearly. Sweaty bodies writhing together, tangled in the sheets. The way he holds you to the mattress, using his weight to keep you good, keep you open. His hard thrusts, his strong thighs. His hands pinning yours just above your head, his hips slamming into yours.
You clamp down around his fingers once more and he’s mesmerized. Sliding all the way to the knuckle and holding them there to feel every flutter of your pussy around him.
“Shit, that’s it.” His arm flexes from beside you, and you wish he wasn’t wearing that goddamn hoodie so you could see every pull of his muscles. “Know you’re close. Gonna get you there, baby, I swear.”
And you know he will. He almost has, and maybe there’s a small part of you that doesn’t want this to end. Wants to keep feeling this indescribable rush as he sits with you until the sun comes up.
With all the frantic fumbling, the hem of your dress has slowly begun to ride up. Revealing the disappearance of his hands and the tops of your thighs until there’s no question about what’s really happening underneath.
And maybe you should readjust yourself, but you don’t. Can’t. You’re almost there and all clarity seems to fly right out the window as you decide that you don’t care. Onlookers be damned. If they see, they see.
This is what gets you there. This realization that people can watch him touch you. Even if nobody is looking right at this moment, they could. And it’s wrong, and it’s strange, and it’s so not like you.
Yet you’ve never felt more at ease.
The moment it takes hold of you, he zeroes in. Fucking his fingers into your cunt rather mercilessly while the other hand returns to your mouth. Already anticipating your noises.
You moan against his palm while he tugs you impossibly closer to his chest. Attempting to shield you from everybody else as you experience the come down.
“Shh,” he repeats for a third time, the soothing tone a stark contrast to the unrelenting movement of his fingers. “Don’t want them to hear you, sweet girl. Wanna keep you to myself. Cause your noises are mine, yeah, Cherry? They belong to me?”
Posed as a question, but you both know it’s not. You’ve never belonged to anybody the way you belong to him. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
So, you allow yourself to whimper against his hand through every second of it. Riding out his thrusts until your stomach nearly caves in. Until you have no further strength to hold yourself upright or keep yourself composed.
“There you go,” he coos. “Just like that. Want it all, baby. Every fucking drop.”
You give it to him. Give him everything you have, everything he asks for. And the soft grunts in your ear nearly bring you to the edge for a second time, but he’s pulling away just before you can find out.
Your exhale is strained when he finally lowers his arm, but he remedies this by wrapping it around your middle and straightening the hem of your uniform.
“How’s that, hm?” He tucks his chin just over your shoulder. “Feel better? Y’gave me a lot tonight, sweet girl. M’so proud of you. You were so good for me.”
You offer a lazy smile at his tender praise.
Soft strokes are circled around your thigh as you both sit in the new silence. Indulging in these few moments you have left.
And just the idea of having to leave him nearly crushes you.
He’s rather addicting, you realize. This man – this stranger – that comes to your diner and sits in your booth asking for pies. Even without knowing much about who he is, you’re so endlessly drawn to him. Hypnotized by his charm and his face and his past. The scars that litteried his hands and body.
And now, after everything else…he’s the only one you truly feel safe with. Comfortable. It doesn’t matter if he’s nothing but question marks, he’s…Harry. He’s your Harry. And you don’t ever want that to change.
You watch his fingers brush at your skin, and your heart feels so full. It’s never felt like this with anybody else. Not during the sex, not during the tender moments. You thought you felt that way with Jesse, but it pales in comparison to how you feel now.
However, the fleeting memory of Jesse sours your smile as you’re forced to remember the reality of this delicate moment.
Even when Harry was touching you, he was so angry. He is so angry. You know he’ll never be able to tame that demon that lives within his heart, but you aren’t sure there’s enough room for both.
You want to believe him when he says he’ll figure it out. But it’s becoming much too clear that he believes the only way to fix it…is to hurt Jesse.
And therefore get himself hurt in the process.
There’s so much more that you don’t understand. So much more that he clearly doesn’t want you to, and you’re devastated. You feel helpless. Because you want to protect him the same way he wants to protect you. You want to keep him from making these rash decisions just because he thinks they’ll protect you.
Because you don’t want to have to lose him or let him go. You want to take him away from all of this and make him happy. Find a way to keep him safe.
You want to find another way.
“Harry?” you venture timidly.
He hums.
“Why did you tell me not to tell Owen where I was going?”
There’s a brief beat before he sighs rather heavily and tightens his hold on you. “When I drove by the diner earlier, I saw Jesse.”
Your eyes widen.
“He was talking to Owen, and my guess is that he was looking for you.” Another pause. “Does Owen know where you live?”
You glance down at his fingers before tangling them with yours. Playing with them as though to prolong your answer. “…yes.”
He sucks in a sharp inhale. “Fuck.”
The heavy sound makes your chest ache, and you quickly sit up in order to glance back and see him. “Jesse would never do that.”
“You don’t know that,” he nearly scoffs. “He’s a fucking baby when he doesn’t get his way, and if he thinks you’re still seeing me—”
“Well, he won’t,” you retort. “He won’t know. We’ll meet down here, and we’ll figure out what to do. And it’ll be okay.”
His eyes flick between yours, and even in the soft light, that gentle green is breathtaking. “I think you have more faith in him than you should.”
Your stomach sinks.
“And I think you have the wrong faith in me, too,” he whispers, reaching out to cup your chin. “M’not sure I’m who you think I am.”
The implication makes you frown. “You’re exactly who I think you are. You’re kind, and you’re smart, and you’re strong. You take care of me, you protect me. I know you, Har.”
His expression falls ever-so-slightly. “Not as much as I should—”
“Harry—”
“You want to save him, and I want to fucking kill him,” he says. “You think he’s worth saving. You think I’m worth saving, and I’m not. We’re not—”
“Stop,” you nearly gasp, surging forward to take his cheeks between your palms. “You are always worth saving. Why do you think I’m trying so hard to keep you?”
He nuzzles his face into your palm before releasing a deep breath. “Because you’re good. You’re so good, Cherry. And I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you.”
You tighten your hold. “Stop saying that. You deserve me and I deserve you. Okay, we’ll figure this out. We’re fine. Everything is gonna be fine.”
You know he wants to argue. Has about a hundred excuses and arguments ready for use, but he bites his tongue. Allowing you to have this victory as you dip down and kiss him.
“I just want to keep you safe,” he says, and you understand more than he’ll ever know.
“But I am safe,” you argue, reaching down to tug his hoodie pleadingly. “As long as I’m with you, I’m safe.”
His sigh is gentle as he squeezes your chin. “I know. Just wanna figure some things out first, yeah? Make sure I can take care of you.”
You say nothing as his thumb sweeps across your parted lips, but you’re gutted. Touched by the thought, yet empty without him.
This is how you leave each other. After Harry helps you to your feet and makes sure you’re steady. And it’s quiet as you say your goodbyes. As he holds you against his heart until he has to physically take himself away. Leaving you with a lingering kiss that you feel all the way down in your toes.
“Tomorrow?” he makes you promise before you can slip away.
You smile, but it doesn’t reach very far. “Tomorrow,” you agree. “Right here.”
“Right here. Find me.”
“Always.”
And with that…he drops your hand and walks away.
However, the image of him follows you all the way home. The way his features fell, the way his voice cracked. The anguish so prevalent in his insistence, and the unmistakable rage behind his eyes.
He’s unrelenting. He doesn’t see a way out that keeps him safe. He’d rather risk his life in order to protect yours. And you don’t want to understand it, but you do. Because a part of you wants to do the same for him.
Jesse made his instructions clear. And it should be easy. It should be so easy for Harry to do the one thing he knows he can. To win.
But he won’t. He won’t win as long as Jesse’s his sponsor. And if he won’t win…
You know he can. Saw it happen just the other night. The way he threw his opponent onto the mat and held him down until he could hardly breathe. He’d been losing – he’d been throwing the fight – until he saw you. And once he saw you…the fight was over.
This is what Jesse wanted, and you know it. He wants you to be the reason Harry changes his mind, but it’s clear now that you’re the reason he won’t.
He’ll never change his mind as long as he’s convinced he’s protecting you. As long as he’s sure that his pain is proper payment for your comfort.
And it ruins you. It ruins you this idea that you can’t help him. That he’ll allow himself to be beaten to the brink of death in order to keep you safe. To keep you untouched and unscathed.
Jesse’s threat is real. Frighteningly real, and there’s this ache in your stomach that can’t be mended with kisses and kind words. You can’t convince him, you can’t change his mind, and you can’t find another way.
There’s only one.
It taunts you as you go about your night. It wakes you the next morning. Follows you all the way to work.
Perhaps the only way to solve the problem is to take yourself out of the equation. To force Harry’s hand exactly the way Jesse wants. To show him that it’s okay to save himself. That he doesn’t have to put you first.
But in order to truly take yourself out…you have to take yourself from him. And the thought of removing yourself from his life nearly wrecks you. It’s violent and unthinkable, causing a hitch in your breath before you’ve even decided.
You can’t imagine a world without him in it. You don’t want to. You’re so irrevocably happy with him, and you imagine he feels the same for you.
But if you ever lost him…if your selfishness took him from you, you don’t know what you’d do. And it’s exactly the way he feels for you, but you realize then that you’d rather push him away than lose him forever.
You’d rather have his life than his love.
Your shift goes by far too fast, and when you finally clock out and head for the subway station, your insides are in knots.
You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to have to do this, but it’s the only exit you see. Right alongside the memories of each of Harry’s bruises and cuts. Reminding you of how much worse it could really get.
And when you step up to the subway and see his shadow just across the way…the decision finds you.
A grin splits his face as he strides toward you, instantly wrapping you in his arms and pulling you back into his chest. Exactly the way he left you the night before.
“Hi,” he murmurs, lips burying into your hair as though he hasn’t been able to breathe without you.
“Hi,” you whisper back, throat already growing dry. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“Don’t be, sweet girl.” He leans back in order to study you, fingers stroking across your cheek rather affectionately. “Owen didn’t give you trouble, did he?”
“No. No, it wasn’t him—”
“Jesse?” The sound of his name is sharp, and it makes your eyelashes flutter.
“No.” Your voice has gone quiet. Far too quiet, and his brows pinch together. “No, I just…I have something I have to do. And I’m not sure that I can.”
He steps closer. “Then let me help, yeah? We can do it together.”
You want to cry.
Your shift in demeanor doesn’t go unnoticed, and he quickly reaches for your hand in order to drag you toward the bench just behind him.
“Okay, all right,” he murmurs as he brings you to sit. “Talk to me, sweet girl. Let me help, what can I do?”
You stumble over a breath and glance down at your lap. If you look at him, you’ll never do it. “I…I…”
You can’t force the words out. Can’t find what you really want to say – can’t even believe you’re saying it at all.
But you have to. You have to protect him; you have to do what he won’t.
He dips down in order to recapture your attention. “Deep breath, baby, okay? Just talk to me. I just wanna help.”
It hurts the way he speaks to you. Hurts the way he’s still trying to help. The way he cradles your face in his hand in order to comfort you.
“I…” You swallow thickly and revel in the feel of his touch for the last time. “I think…I think we should take a break.”
His head tilts, but he appears unfazed. Perhaps he doesn’t understand or perhaps he didn’t really hear you. “What?”
And you almost hate him for making you repeat it. “I want to take a break. I don’t…I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
Now he hears you, but he it’s obvious that he doesn’t understand. Leaning back as his features twist together. “Cherry…”
And suddenly, you feel unsure. Consumed by the idea that you're making a huge mistake. Maybe there's another way, maybe...maybe you just didn't look hard enough.
Because what if letting him go does more harm than good? What if he can't find another way without you? What if you can't live without him?
But then Jesse's threat rings in your ear. The taunt that he'd kill him himself if he didn't do things differently. If he didn't listen.
If you couldn't convince him
And the moment you imagine Harry lying on the ground– dead – you realize that this is truly the only way.
You raise your eyes to his, and it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done. “I’m sorry.”
But it appears your apology falls on deaf ears. He merely frowns, regarding you almost suspiciously. “He got to you, didn’t he? He’s making you say this.”
“No…no, he just—”
“He what? S’this about what he said? S’this about what I said? Because I meant it. I’ll fucking kill him—”
“No, Harry, I just…I think you were right. I think we’re never gonna agree on how to handle this and…and maybe there’s a reason.”
He considers this before rejecting it with a soft scoff. “We don’t have to agree. I told you, I can handle him—”
“I don’t think you can,” you argue. “And I think it’s better if we just quit while we’re ahead.”
It’s bullshit. All of it. A bunch of empty lies that chip away at your happiness.
The frown deepens. “Cherry…I don’t understand—”
“No, you don’t. You don’t understand, and…and I don’t think you ever will.” You force the tears back. “We’re not the same people, Harry. It was never going to work.”
This is what crushes him. This confirmation of your differences and of the very thing he feared. That you’d reject him for being who he is.
You nearly take it all back when you see his expression soften.
“Cherry,” he tries again, “if…if I did something, I—”
“You did a lot of things,” you tell him. Deciding that the only way you’ll get through this is if you fight him at every turn. “But I can’t. I can’t keep doing this.”
His shoulders visibly droop. “I know, I…I’m just trying to make it better.”
You didn’t think it could get worse. And you want to comfort him. Want to help him understand, make him see. Have this unshakable need fix the desolate expression on his face. Kiss it away, make it better.
But you don't.
“I know,” you echo instead, offering a just hint of kindness as you place your hand on his knee. “But this is how we make it better. By letting go. And saying goodbye.”
He glances down at his leg as though your touch stings, and you retract your arm almost instantly. “You want me to say goodbye?”
No. Never. “Yes. I think it’s for the best.”
He nods once and his eyes become unfocused. As though he’s lost. Completely checked out of his own body, and it sends the knife directly into your heart.
Then, he lifts his head, and regains a moment of clarity. “I love you.”
The knife twists and the first sob breaks free. “Harry—”
“I love you, Cherry. I don’t want to say goodbye. I don’t want to take a fucking break, I…” He stops, and you can see the torment painted so perfectly across his face. “I love you. I can’t do this without you.”
And you know he won’t. You know he’ll do everything he can to bring you back. To change your mind, remind you where you belong. He’ll never let you go.
So, you do the one thing you don’t want to.
“I don’t love you,” you whisper. “I love…him.”
You’ve never seen him look so miserable.
It’s like you’ve slapped him. He leans back so fast, you’re dizzy. Putting a violent distance between your bodies until you nearly lose your breath.
He takes in a quiet inhale that’s more like a gasp, and you want to change your mind. You want to throw yourself into his arms and apologize and tell him you love him and go back to how things were only 24-hours ago. You want to pretend you never saw that look on his face.
But you can’t. You have. You said it and for all he knows, you mean it.
“You love him,” he repeats, and it’s the ugliest thing you’ve ever heard. “You…no. No, you don’t love him, you…how can you love him? How…how?”
“I…I talked to him,” you lie, reaching up to swipe your knuckles across your cheek. “He’s…he’s my Jesse. He’s…I’ve always loved him. I just…I didn’t realize.”
He scoffs again, but it’s riddled with disdain and desperation. “Your Jesse.”
“Yes, my Jesse.” You don’t think your heart has ever broken this bad. “I’ve always loved him. I always will. And he…he explained, and I believe him. I’m choosing to believe him—”
“Oh, fuck that,” he nearly growls, springing onto his feet until he’s towering over you. “No, he…him? After everything he did to you, you fucking…you love him? You want to be with him?”
“Harry—”
“No. How can you…” He steels himself, and another tear falls from your eye. “You can’t love him. You can’t, I know you. Okay, I saw how you looked at him and I saw how you looked at me, and it’s not the same. You don’t love him, you’re just…you’re scared.”
He’s right, you are.
“I’m not scared, Harry, I just…I know what’s best for me,” you murmur. “And he’s what’s best.”
It tastes vile in your mouth. All of it, every lie, every false feeling, and you feel sick.
He steps back, and a part of you almost hopes he simply walks away so you won’t have to keep doing this to him. To yourself.
But maybe this is your punishment. To watch the way you ruin him as you do it.
“You can do better than him and you know it,” he nearly sneers, but it’s sad the way he speaks. “And it doesn’t have to be me, but…fuck, you have to do better than him. You deserve so much better than him, Cherry, and I don’t…I can’t believe you don’t see that.”
Your fingers twitch on your lap, anxious to reach for him. “I’m sorry.”
He only shakes his head and looks away. “Don’t be. S’my fucking fault for thinking I could do better."
“Harry—”
“No, it’s fine,” he says, but you know, undoubtedly, that he doesn’t mean it. “If you love him, then you fucking love him. I’m never gonna be able to change that.”
You feel as though you’re being ripped apart from the inside out. You’ve never experienced a pain like this before, and you imagine it’s still only a fraction of the pain he puts himself through in that ring.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whisper, and it’s enough to draw his attention back. “I never want to hurt you, Harry. I really do care about you, I just…”
He looks gutted. “You just care about him more.”
You wonder if he really believes you. You wonder if that small pull of his brows is because he’s hurt or because he knows what you’re really doing.
Either way, he steps back, and takes himself from you. Putting the first few feet of the eventual thousand between you. “It’s fine,” he murmurs once more. “I just want you to be happy, Cher. And if you’re happy with him, then…”
He can’t finish the thought. Can’t force the words between his gritted teeth, and you understand.
“Thank you,” you exhale, and your pulse begins to race. Because you know what comes next, and you aren’t quite sure you’re prepared. “And…I hope you figure everything out.”
“Yeah,” he snorts, but there’s something dark in the way he speaks. Something you’re almost afraid to recognize. “I will.”
It’s ominous, but you suppose that’s all you deserve. “Right.”
He moves back even further, and you nearly collapse.
“Harry?”
He pauses, hands disappearing into his pockets as though to shield himself from you.
“Thank you,” you call quietly. “For…for everything.”
His lashes flutter, and even despite the affliction written between the lines of his face, you realize he’s never looked so beautiful. “Don’t have to thank me, sweet girl. I’ve only ever wanted to make you happy.”
And all you can do is look down at your lap in order to shield him from the influx of tears that break free.
A moment passes of your soft hiccups and trembling hands before you hear his shoes shuffle across the concrete. He’s walking away. He’s leaving you behind. He’s saying goodbye. For good. You’ll never see him again, and he’ll never sit in that booth again, and he’ll never be your stranger ever again—
Two hands find your face. Lifting your head until you’re forced to look up and see him.
He’s here.
And he’s tugging you up onto your feet until he can hold you against his chest and really look at you. Thumbs sweeping just beneath your eyes to catch each falling tear.
Then…he kisses you.
You’ve kissed him before. Many times, in fact, but it’s never been like this. It’s never been this…heavy. Never carried the kind of meaning it does right now as he keeps you against his lips for as long as you’ll allow.
Because this is the last kiss.
You don’t want to let go. Don’t want to let him let you go. But he does all too soon and you’ve never felt so alone.
“I love you,” he whispers. “And I’m so sorry I couldn’t be who you need.”
And you want to scream. Want to tell him that he is. That he’s all you’ve ever wanted.
But he’s already removing his hands from your face before you can.
And you’re forced to watch as the man that you love turns around…and walks away.
For the last time.
Next Part:
~ Outlawed*
Previous Part:
~ Reckless*
~ Full Knockout Masterlist
~ Main Masterlist
Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞
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death before decaf
opla!zoro; 10,414 words; coffee shop/college!au, vague enemies to lovers, fencer!zoro, sports medicine!major reader, slightly ooc zoro (he's a bit more talkative), fluff and flirting, bff!robin, zoro makes the first move, zoro calling reader "princess", mutual pining, both reader and zoro are dumbasses, making out in locker rooms
summary: sanji and nami bet on how long it'll take you and zoro to finally crack over your caffeine-related discourse; or -- that one coffee!shop zoro au that literally no one asked for.
a/n: i keep on saying "this is the longest fic i've written to date" but this really is the longest fic i've written to date. and no, this will not be the only time zoro calls reader "princess" in one of my fics. trust.
one.
“How long did you say?”
“Two weeks, max.”
“Nah… you think?”
“Probably closer to a week. Week and a half.”
Sanji stubs out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe before tossing the smoking nub into the bin, casting Nami a disbelieving look.
“They’ve been going on like this for like three months… and you think they’re gonna crack in the next week and a half? Nah, fam — I call bullshit.”
Nami shrugs, smirking, “Your funeral.”
Sanji scoffs as Nami pushes through the swinging double doors into the main body of the cafe, hitching a smile onto her face as she greets the customers already lined up in front of the counter.
“Yeah, whatever,” he mutters to himself, dusting his hands off on his apron before pushing in after her, putting on his best customer-service smile.
“Mornin’ folks! Welcome to the Straw Hats Cafe, where the coffee’s hot but the people are hotter — what can I get started for you, sweetheart?” he grins as he shoots you a wink and you flash him your best Colgate smile.
“Can I get a decaf latte with —”
“Oat milk, two pumps of caramel, and whipped cream on top? Oh — and a sprinkle of cinnamon cause you can’t have a fall latte without cinnamon, right?” Sanji finishes for you.
You nod, your cheeks flushed a bright, wind-kissed pink from the cold outside.
Behind you, a green-haired boy in a tight-fitting tee and no jacket scoffs under his breath, shaking his head.
“Yep! You know me so well,” you say, giggling and making a point to speak just a bit louder.
“Course I do, darlin’. It’s what I get paid for,” Sanji jots down your order and pushes it to the side where Nami’s already halfway done with making your drink.
“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite mosshead jock — lemme guess, double espresso, no sugar, no nothin’, right?” Sanji punches in the order just as Zoro makes his way up to the counter, his eyes narrowed.
“Yeah.”
Sanji grins, hiking an eyebrow, “Talkative as always, I see. Alright — that’d be —”
Zoro wordlessly slides a full punch card onto the counter and Sanji pauses.
“Ah — pardon me, I do believe that’s your free drink! You sure you wanna use it on an espresso? Maybe… you wanna try one of our seasonal specials? The maple spice latte’s one of our best —”
Zoro scoffs again, “I’m good. I like my coffee real, thanks.”
Down passed the pastries, you roll your eyes, making an exaggerated face as Nami hands you your drink with a grin.
“Y’know, if you guys just made out I feel like it would fix a lot of this unresolved tension,” she says, even as you nearly choke on your drink.
You’re still coughing when Zoro joins you by the finished drinks counter.
“I’d rather lose an eye than make out with someone who drinks decaf.”
Nami sighs, shooting you a meaningful look as she slides the double espresso toward Zoro.
You wipe your lips with a napkin before leveling him with a glare.
“Well I’d rather gouge my own eyes out than make out with someone who never grew out of his middle school emo-phase.”
“At least I don’t try to use sugar to fill the gaping hole in your life where a real personality should be.”
“At least I don’t make that gaping hole my entire personality.”
“Princess.”
“Edgelord.”
You turn resolutely away from Zoro and smile back at Nami and Sanji, both stealing glances at the pair of you even as they continue to handle the Monday morning rush.
“Thank you guys — I’m gonna be late for class.
Zoro tsks, taking a sip of his espresso.
“I’m gonna be late for practice.”
You huff, pivoting away from him towards the door, purposefully letting it swing shut behind you; Zoro swears as it almost makes him spill his coffee.
Back in the coffee shop, Sanji finishes another order just as Nami washes off her hands to take over at the cashier.
“One and a half weeks?” Sanji asks as he rolls up his sleeves and grabs a few metal cups for steamed milk.
“Yep,” Nami replies, shooting another look out the glass door where they can both still see your’s and Zoro’s silhouettes as you head towards the university campus, “Just about.”
“Alright then, you’re on.”
Nami’s smirk only grows, “Like I said — your funeral.”
two.
You’re fuming all the way to your first morning class — Bio-Organic Chemistry — that you don’t notice your friend Robin until she’s standing right next to you.
“Are you mad at your fencer-boy again?”
You roll your eyes, huffing out a breath, “He’s not my fencer-boy, and no. I’m not mad.”
Robin grins, “Your tone says different.”
You cast her a reproachful look, “I just… bumped into him at the coffee shop again.”
“Ah,” Robin says, her voice saturated with understanding.
You groan, “He just… pisses me off so much! Like, why’s he care how much sugar I put in my drinks or if I drink decaf? He’s just a muscle-head loser who thinks drinking espresso shots makes him somehow more manly or something. Ugh.”
Robin’s grin is amused when you turn to chance her a glance.
“Then… why do you care how he takes his coffee?” Her question is light, but you’ve known her for long enough to know when she’s teasing.
“I didn’t! At least… not until he made fun of my drink first. I mean, who does that anymore? We’re in college! Like, grow up!”
“Mm,” Robin hums, schooling her expression into one of careful consideration and marked compassion, “and of course, you’re just engaging in his… childish antics because he started it first, right?”
You sigh, cupping your very sugary latte between your palms as you both duck into the main lecture building, teaming with students shedding scarves and jackets, shaking off the late autumn chill.
“I know, I know it’s stupid but… he just… pisses me off so much!”
Robin chuckles, her smile distinctly sphinx-like as you press your lips into a pout.
“Well, we can talk about it after morning lecture, hm?”
You sigh and nod, waving her off as she heads down the hallway towards her Ancient Worlds class and you head upstairs for the sciences.
You spend the whole lecture in a mood and by the time you’re excused, your temples have started to throb.
But true to her word, you find Robin waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, a thick leather-bound book clutched to her chest. You give her a questioning look.
“Just some light reading,” she says. You roll your eyes.
“Just say you’re a gigantic nerd and go.”
At this Robin laughs, falling into step next to you as you both start to make your way towards the dining commons.
“Have I ever denied that I was?”
You let out a noncommittal grunt.
Luckily, the commons isn‘t as crowded as it usually is and you both quickly find a seat.
“So,” Robin says as she slides into the seat next to you, propping up her chin on the heel of her hand. There’s a low, lilting tone to her voice that tells you there’s no getting out of it this time.
You sigh again, pursing your lips, staring down at your açaí bowl.
“So what?”
“Tell me about him.”
You scoff, “Not really much to tell — he’s… one of the fencers on the national team. So obviously, he’s got his own head shoved so far up his ass he can probably watch his own lunch dige—“
“So he’s quite good at fencing then.” Robin keeps her voice neutral, taking a contemplative bite of a banana.
“I guess — I mean we’re the top feeder school for the Olympic team, aren’t we?” You jab your spoon into the yogurt, nearly splattering Robin’s new book. She gently tucks it into her bag and motions for you to continue.
“I dunno, there’s not much to tell after that… he’s an arrogant jock who judges people by how they take their coffee,” and at this, you shove a large spoonful of yogurt and açaí into your mouth, glaring at nothing in particular.
“Doesn’t your practical applications class look after the fencing team?”
Again, you grunt, sinking a bit further into your seat at the thought.
“Yeah, I’ve been dreading that all morning, and the class isn’t till Wednesday.”
Robin’s smile is almost too academic as she carefully finishes her banana and gets started on an egg salad sandwich.
“It can’t be that bad, can it?”
You sniff, swallowing another huge mouthful of yogurt.
“It can,” you say, grimacing, “You should see the number of times I’ve had to hold back from dislocating his shoulder on purpose.”
Robin laughs her tinkling, all-knowing laugh, “Every day, I wake up glad to be on your whitelist.”
Your lips twitch into a reluctant grin.
“I’d be nicer too if I were as tall and pretty as you are. But since I’m not one of god’s strongest soldiers, I’ve gotta find other ways of defending myself, y’know?”
“I’m not sure what you do can be called ‘self-defense’ in a court of law but…” she smiles, “You shouldn’t sell yourself short either.”
You cast her a deadpan look, “But I am short. It’s like where 90% of my rage and spite come from.”
Robin grins, “You know that’s not what I meant.”
You make a rather childish face, but a comfortable warmth spreads from the center of your chest out towards all your extremities at Robin’s words. She cocks her head and continues.
“Plus… I’ve a creeping suspicion that your fencer-boy would agree that you’re prettier than you think.”
You freeze mid-swallow on your last spoonful of yogurt, eyes wide.
“Wait — what?”
Robin sighs, looking at you as if studying a particularly interesting monolith carved with all her favorite dead languages. You sit back, crossing your arms, feeling raw beneath her inquisitive gaze.
“You can’t still think that this little… feud you two have is purely based on a difference in coffee preference, can you?”
You realize you’re chewing on your bottom lip and force yourself to stop.
“I — I don’t know how it can be anything else though…” but even to your own ears, you sound distinctly unconvinced. Robin cocks her head.
“Think about it — when we were all little kids and running around on playground, which girls would get their pigtails pulled the most?”
Your frown deepens, “But we’re not kids anymore and this isn’t a play —“
“Yes, I know. Just humor me for a moment.”
You squirm in your seat, your heart thudding erratically in your rib cage, making you feel strangely breathless.
“It was… always the girls that the boys had a crush on,” you answer, your voice growing smaller with each word as the realization seeps into your skin like sunlight. And suddenly, it's too hot. The thought that Zoro might be doing this because he likes you isn’t something that’s crossed your mind. Or rather, it isn’t a thought you’d allowed to cross your mind.
“You know, boys aren’t technically considered ‘men’ until they’re in their mid-thirties,” Robin says, conversational and satisfied to have driven the point home to you. She leans back even as you reach up to press your face into the palms of your hands.
“But…” you try to grasp for some thread of logic that might be able to refute Robin’s claim but come up empty. She’s always been too smart for her own good. And yours.
When you finally lift your head again, it’s to find Robin still watching you, an oddly indulgent smile on her lips.
“C’mon,” she says, gathering her things, “don’t want you to be late for your next lecture.”
She has the audacity to wink as you hurriedly grab your stuff as well.
“Shut up,” you say, bumping her lightly with your elbow as you walk passed her, cheeks darkening with every step. Your next lecture, you both know, is the Nutrition of Sports — which is one of the few actual classes that you and Zoro actually share.
“Have fun in class!” Robin calls as you split ways outside the dining commons. You consider flipping her off but decide against it and opt to stick out your tongue at her instead.
Robin shakes her head, laughing quietly to herself. Really, she thinks, this is just starting to get interesting.
three.
You walk into Nutrition of Sports fully prepared to see Zoro slouched in his usual seat at the back of the class — except, he’s not there. You blink; he’s always been there, always early despite what others might assume of his punctuality. And yet.
“Lookin’ for me, Princess?”
You jump as you hear Zoro’s voice behind you, dangerously close to your ear. Jerking around, you find him smirking, arms crossed as he stares at you.
“N-no.”
“Tch.” He saunters into the room, his arm barely grazing yours as he drops into his seat, leaning back with a sort of damnable, feline grace, doing nothing to hide a huge, lethargic yawn. When he makes a show of stretching his arms over his head, you pause as you notice the way he winces, favoring his left side over his right.
You narrow your eyes.
“You’d be a shit poker player,” he says, grinning as he turns his eyes back towards you, catching you staring before you flush a deep purple and stomp towards your own seat, just one row ahead of him.
You noisily start setting up your supplies — an endless parade of jelly pens and perfectly coordinated sticky notes in aesthetically pleasing colors — pretending like you hadn’t heard him.
Thankfully, the professor hurries in soon after as the rest of the students file in.
Halfway through the lecture, you’re stifling the third yawn of the hour as you feel a small, crumpled something hit the back of your neck. You jerk around to find Zoro ducking behind his arms even as you spot the small wad of paper that he’d obviously just tossed at you.
You bend down to pick it up, only to find a note scribbled in slanted, uneven handwriting —
Sugar crash? Ha. Serves you right.
You nearly whip around but the professor clicks another slide and drones on. You huff, flipping the paper over to scribble on the back —
What happened to your arm?
You surreptitiously toss the note back to him and grin to yourself as you hear him sputtering behind you. The professor glances towards you. You flash him a winning smile as you continue to jot down notes; behind you, you hear the distinct sounds of Zoro scrambling to appear as if he’s paying attention.
The rest of the lecture goes by uninterrupted, though by the end, you swear that your hackles are raised from the way Zoro’s been staring at the back of your neck the entire time.
“What?” you ask, whipping around to face him.
Zoro, for his part, has the decency to look sheepish as he clears his throat and sighs, leaning back.
“There’s nothing wrong with my arm,” he says as he looks away, a slight darkness dusting the high of his cheeks. It’s not the first time you notice the bone-chiseled features of his face — like some gorgeous, careless god, rendered by the loving hands of a besotted Renaissance artist and preserved for the world to see — the way a constellation of freckles scatter across the bridge of his nose, the way his jaw is sharp enough to sting the imagination.
“Right. Fine. Sorry I asked.” You shove your notes and pens back into your bag, rolling your eyes as you shoulder your tote, “And… you’d be a shit poker player too.”
And with that, you turn and leave the room without a single backward glance.
You’re gone so quick that you don’t see the way Zoro stares after you, his own eyes narrowed into slits. You don’t see the way he frowns as one of his teammates nudges him with an elbow, reminding him that afternoon practice starts in 15 minutes.
four.
Tuesday night finds you slumped over a stack of books on the 3rd floor of the library, your entire body feeling odd and boneless. Hundreds of tiny flashcards are scattered across the top of the desk, each filled with a system you have to memorize before your test on Friday for your O-Chem course, when suddenly, a white paper cup appears in your field of vision, plopping onto the tiny slip of table still available between all your study materials.
“Hm?” you jerk up, blinking blearily up at a vaguely familiar green-haired figure even as he crosses his arms and sighs.
“There. Some real coffee. Looked like you need it,” Zoro says, glancing away the moment your eyes come into focus.
You stare at him for a solid ten seconds before looking back down at the cheap, watered-down cup of unsweetened coffee on the table before you.
Ew, you want to say, but somehow, “Thanks,” is what comes out of your mouth.
You reach for the cup, wincing slightly as you jerk your fingers back from the scalding exterior of the thin paper cup.
Zoro immediately leans down, snatching the cup from the table to blow on the surface. You watch him with wide, wondering eyes. It takes him a second to catch himself before he blushes a deep shade of maroon and clears his throat, quickly setting the cup back down on your desk, tucking both his hands into his pockets, looking anywhere but directly at you.
“It’s — careful — I mean — it’s from the vending machine downstairs so it’s not as fancy as the stuff we get from the coffee shop —”
Maybe it’s because you’re truly too tired, or maybe because Robin’s been right since day one but — you reach for the cup, carefully cradling it between your palms as you take a tentative sip and grimace at the watery, bitter aftertaste.
“Gross,” you say, though without any malice, glancing up at him. Zoro scoffs, dragging out an empty seat across from you, turning it around to straddle the chair, propping both his arms on the back as he looks at you. Your eyes once more catch on the way he’s gentler with his right side.
“What’s wrong with your arm?” you ask again, taking another tentative sip of the truly awful coffee.
Zoro grimaces, “None of your business.”
You sigh, the will to snark back rather feeble as you consider the mountain of vocab you have to memorize before your Friday test.
“Right, sure — keep your secrets,” you drone as you set the paper cup down and nudge it further away from you, “be mysterious for the next —” you check your watch, “eighteen hours before Practical Applications when you’ll have to explain to Coach Mihawk why you've been lying about an obvious injury three weeks before your next —”
“Fuck — okay.”
You pause, looking up from collecting your flash cards.
Zoro digs his fingers into his right shoulder.
“I — I think I pulled it at the tournament last week.”
Your eyebrows shoot up, “Your tournament was on Thursday.”
Zoro shifts uncomfortably, “And?”
“And it’s now Tuesday.”
Zoro doesn’t answer this time, but you have to actively fight down the urge to throw the no-longer-scalding-but-still-very-hot-coffee at his face. You tell yourself that the only thing stopping you is professionalism and sportsmanship instead of an unwillingness to damage his Michaelangelo-sculpted features.
“It’s been five days!”
Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to count.”
You bite back a frustrated scream as you push away from your chair and round the table to stand behind him, not giving him enough time to be bewildered before you press a palm to his right shoulder, already focused on finding the tender spots.
“Tell me where it hurts.”
You run an expert palm over the width of his shoulders, focusing on his right, fingers digging into various muscle groups until he winces.
“Ow.”
You grin as you find a tender patch to the right of his spine, almost beneath his shoulder blade.
“You strained your Rhomboid.”
“Gesundheit.”
You roll your eyes and reach over his back for the cup of coffee. You feel his breath hitch as your front presses full against his back.
“Hold still,” you say, pressing the side of the warm cup to the sore muscle.
Zoro makes a choked moaning noise that he tries to bite off, but not soon enough. It sizzles down your spine to curl at the base of your belly, spreading heat through your body in a way you have no urge to examine at this current point in time.
You hold it there for a minute, and then two, till the coffee’s gone lukewarm.
“Here,” you say, tugging the cup away to offer it to him.
He stares at the cup before glancing up at you.
“Caffeine helps with muscle soreness and pain — it’s probably why you’re so addicted to espresso all the time,” you offer by way of an explanation, even as he opens his mouth to ask. He closes his mouth and takes the coffee, downing half of it in a single gulp.
Then, he sets it down on the table before digging a crumpled packet of sugar out of his pants pocket.
“It’s… probably not as sweet as you usually like it but…” he presses it into the palm of your hand, looking anywhere but at your face, “should help the bitterness.”
And then he’s gone, slouching off towards the elevator bank, leaving you gaping after him with the packet of sugar in your hand, your rapidly cooling coffee, and a mountain of revisions you’ve got no hope of finishing tonight.
five.
Wednesday finds you practically sprinting as you reach your Practical Applications course, clutching at your chest as you burst through the gym doors, gasping for breath. Professor Kureha quirks an inquiring eyebrow at you while Mihawk, the fencing instructor, slates you a sharp, rueful glare.
“— as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” his bright hawk-yellow eyes flash back over the fencing team, “regionals are quickly approaching and we need you in top form. So — warm-ups stretches, everyone. Pair up and get to it. Zoro, up here with me.”
You duck your head and hurry towards your normal spot along the bleachers, slowing as you notice what looks like a cup of coffee from the Straw Hats Cafe occupying the place where you normally sit. You pick up the cup — it’s still hot to the touch.
On the coffee slip is a single word — Princess.
And though it’s in Sanji’s familiar coffee shop scrawl, only one person has ever called you that.
Heat crests up your chest, prickling at your cheeks. You don’t have to taste it to know that it’s your order — your favorite order. Briefly, you wonder if Sanji made Zoro recite the entire thing before agreeing to put it down, or if he’d spared Zoro the pain of having to say the word ‘decaf’ unironically.
And then you wonder if Nami teased him at all, waiting for his own drink on top of yours.
“Chop chop,” Professor Kureha says, grinning too wide as she wanders over, peering at you over her John Lennon shades, “you heard old Hawk-eyes — time to pair up.”
You hurriedly drop your bag and take a quick sip of our drink, letting out a soft groan of appreciation as the caramel-cinnamon goodness seeps into your blood vessels. Some nameless freshman hopeful from the fencing team is your partner for stretches and you patiently walk him through all the major motions, pushing on his back and laughing kindly when he can’t quite reach his toes.
You feel the faint tingle on the back of your neck that tells you someone’s staring, and you privately think that you don’t need three guesses to figure out who it is. But you don’t give Zoro the satisfaction of looking over till you help the blushing freshman finish all his stretches, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, reaching up on tip-toe to ruffle his hair even though he’s got a solid four inches over you.
When finally, you glance over towards where Mihawk is putting Zoro through his paces, it’s to find him flickering through the motions — flashes of silver, lithe, fluid — and you find your breath held captive in your chest by the sight.
You’ve always known Zoro to be a graceful fencer, but grace has nothing on the way he flows from one move to the next, each muscle drawn like a bow-string, each intake of breath timed and perfect. His arms and legs move in tandem and there’s a bewitching rhythm to the way his body breaks and bends. It is beauty and strength, dance and magic — power and promise and the sword-tip’s whish of premonition.
When he finishes, you suck in a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding.
You watch as Mihawk murmurs something to Zoro, who winces, looking chastened before Mihawk waves him away and Zoro sets down his epee, making his way over to you.
You open your mouth, about to make some snarky remark but Zoro reaches over his back with one hand and tugs his shirt off in a single, unbroken motion. You gulp, your voice failing you as your eyes settle on the strong ripple of his muscles as he tosses his shirt aside.
Zoro smirks, “Keep starin’ and I’m gonna have to start charging.”
You rip your eyes away, fire licking up the length of your torso as you reach into your bag for a roll of sports tape.
Zoro slumps down in the seat in front of you as you take stock of his sweat-slicked torso, your eyes still catching on the patch of swollen muscle beneath his shoulder blade. You reach forward and run a thumb along it, careful of the way he hisses.
“A hot-patch is only going to do so much,” you say, frowning as you drop the sports tape to focus on massaging the tender bit of skin.
Zoro groans, his eyes falling half shut as you slowly work at the various knots in his shoulders. Your fingers are slow and deliberate, applying just the right amount of pressure. And more than once, Zoro has to bite back what he’s sure would’ve been an indecent moan before it rolls out of his mouth at the way your soft palms press into the planes of his back, the tenseness of his shoulders.
“Keep moaning like that, I’m gonna have to start charging,” you say, much too close to his ear.
Zoro jerks, even as you pull back, laughing. The sound makes his skin prickle up with goosebumps and he doesn’t want to think about the myriad reasons why.
“I bought you coffee, twice,” he grumbles, cheeks pink, his mind still buzzing from the warmth of your palms.
You hum, your fingers flickering over his skin, pulling away for a second before he feels something wonderful and cool pressing against his sore, aching muscles.
“You’re right… you did buy me coffee twice. Even though the first time was horrible vending machine coffee and I used most of it as a heating pad for your injury.”
Zoro grunts, letting you manhandle him as you gently twist his right arm into an array of different stretches to test his range of mobility.
“Still counts.”
You put down his right arm to test his left. Zoro chooses not to think about the way his body tingles where your hands touch him, and especially not where you’re standing too close, your chest occasionally brushing against his shoulder. He chooses actively not to think about the way he can smell the soft, coconut milk fragrance of your lotion as you lean over him, rambling about doing the proper warm-up and cool-down exercises.
He grins as you reach over mid-sentence to finish your drink and you pause, watching him with narrowed eyes.
“What?”
He shrugs, “Nothin’… just that… seems like you liked your drink.”
Your eyes slingshot from his face to the nearly empty cup in your hands.
“I always like my —”
They widen when you realize that Zoro had in fact ordered a double shot of espresso in your usual drink instead of your normal decaf. And, that you’d been too distracted by him to notice.
“I — it — wh —”
Zoro languidly rises from his seat, grinning, “Thanks for the treatment, Princess. I owe you one — lemme buy you a coffee sometime, yeah?”
You stare after him as he makes his way across the room, back to the rest of the team for proper bouts. You force down another blush as you shove the now-empty coffee cup into the nearest trash can, your heart skidding to the rhythmic squeak of feet shuffling against the floors, the bell-like ting of epee blades, the murmur of the watching crowd.
six.
Thursday morning finds you ill-rested and grumpy as you join Robin in the quad, heading for the Straw Hats Cafe during free period.
“Trouble sleeping?” Robin asks, looking you over with mild concern.
You grunt, adjusting your bag, “Had coffee too late in the day.”
At this, Robin frowns, “But you only drink decaf.”
You grunt again, not looking at her, “Yeah, well.”
Robin blinks for a second before a knowing smile splits her lips, “Ah… so. Fencer-boy’s made his move.”
You round on her, fists clenched, “He has not! He just — he just bought me coffee!”
Robin remains infuriatingly unfazed as she stares at you, “Yes. And to most, that would constitute as ‘making a move’. And here I thought you were a fan of romance novels.”
You turn away from her, huffing even as your cheeks fill with color, “I — I am.”
“So?” she asks.
“So?” you echo, cursing yourself for sounding like a petulant child.
“So…” she continues, patient as always, “he bought you coffee.”
You crinkle your nose, your stomach a roiling mess as the pair of you make your way across the quad and duck into the cafe to Sanji’s bright, welcoming voice, your eyes scanning the queue even though you know that Zoro’s got morning practice. This does not go unnoticed by Robin, though she mercifully elects to not question you about it.
“Yes, he bought me coffee. But instead of decaf, he made it a double-shot.” You try very hard to make this sound like a personal affront, but Robin only dips her head.
“Ah,” she says again, and you feel the urge to run out of the building even as the pair of you shuffle towards the front of the line.
“Hi there, oh! I’ve got a special message for you,” Nami says as you get to the registers, her voice silken with glee as she reaches behind the counter to tug out what looks like a receipt. You glance down at the paper, confused, but she only winks as she moves to ask what Robin would like.
You inch to the side, distracted by this strange turn, your eyes dropping to the slip of paper, upon which is scribbled — Good luck on test tomorrow. Evening bout. Gym.
You stare at the cryptic message for a full minute before Robin ushers you toward the counter where Sanji is pumping out drinks, making girls blush as he winks at them each in turn.
“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite Decaf Princess — though… seems like your tastes are a-changin’ these days,” Sanji says, grinning wide as you get to the counter, pushing a steaming cup towards you. You frown at the drink — cinnamon sprinkled atop a perfectly placed dollop of whipped cream, underneath which you’re sure is your favorite drink order. You look back up at Sanji.
“A certain mosshead jock put in an advanced order for you — said to give you an extra shot of espresso for the test you’ve got tomorrow.”
You sputter as Robin laughs beside you, thanking Sanji for her own Long Black.
“You know, you could just be normal and call it an Americano,” you say as the pair of you make your way out of the cafe. Robin grins, sipping at her drink.
“I could… but where’s the fun in that?” she slates you a glance, “More importantly, are you going?”
“To what?” you ask, not meaning to sound so defensive, but you can’t help it, and even as Robin sighs, you know that it’s useless.
“To the bout,” she says, unruffled.
You hunch into your upturned collar and your thick, layered scarf, cradling your drink, the sweet scent of syrup and cinnamon wafting up to tickle your nose. You blush at the thought of Zoro’s voice, full of morning gravel, shy as he lists out all the extremities you like in your coffee order.
“Maybe. I mean… why not, right?”
Robin nods, humming as she takes another long drink, “Mhm — why not indeed.”
You nudge her; she nudges you back. You both laugh as a church bell rings out from across the quad, sending a flock of birds scattering through the misty, morning air.
seven.
Friday evening finds you pushing through the wide gym doors, pressing your hands over the skirt you’d painstakingly picked out, chewing on your bottom lip.
You silently curse at Robin for pulling out last minute, begging off to some Ancient Languages focus group.
“I bet it’s not even real…” you mutter to yourself as you slip into the front row of the bleachers, looking for an empty seat. You somehow manage to look up just as Zoro is about to go on, his mask under one arm, his blade in the other.
You raise your hand in a half wave before catching yourself and shoving it back down, scowling as Zoro’s lips pull into a lopsided grin. You drop into a seat just as Zoro tugs his helmet on and stretches his arms. You tense as you see the slight wince he twitches away as he tests the weight of his blade.
But you needn’t have worried — the bout is quick and decisive, Zoro scoring one point after another, his blade flashing through the air, bright as fish scales. And before you know it, the buzzer sounds, marking his victory. You leap to your feet, cheering with the rest of the crowd as Zoro tugs off his mask and pumps his fists.
You catch his eye and for a moment, the wild rumble of the screaming crowd fades to a dull, thumping baseline. He jerks his head towards the lockers and you nod, swallowing hard as you duck through the still-cheering crowd towards the back of the gym.
When you get there, it’s to find him methodically polishing his blade, his mask set to the side, his thick jacket pulled down to pool around his waist, the rest of his protective wear scattered in heaps on the ground around him. You have half a mind to scold him for being so careless with what you know is expensive gear but you can’t keep yourself from staring at the wide planes of back, curving up to his shoulders, the thick cords of muscle that flex up either side of his neck.
He looks up as you shuffle in, your skirt suddenly feeling a bit too short, too risque for the near-winter weather outside.
You clear your throat and cast your eyes about the empty lockers. You don’t miss the way his gaze skates up your bare legs, pausing at the place where your skirt brushes the top of your thighs.
“Uhm — how’s your shoulder?” your voice sounds too high, echoing strangely along the white-tiled walls.
Zoro licks his lips and puts down his blade, rolling his right shoulder.
“Better but… still not great. Mihawk’s making me to do PT.”
You nod, letting out a soft laugh, “I’m glad. You’d never do it otherwise.”
He scoffs, “You know what that means though, right?” There’s a raw, rolling tension beneath his words, a sort of thickened expectation as he stares at you with dark, meaningful eyes.
You purse your lips, your stomach tightening.
“I —”
Zoro gets to his feet, and you barely register the soft clatter of his blade as it rolls to the side on the bench. He closes the space between you in three quick steps and you find yourself marveling at his speed — wondering vaguely if this is how all his opponents feel when he slips forward, the tip of his blade digging into their shoulder or stomach or the bend of their hip.
“Means we’re stuck with each other. At least till you fix me for regionals in two weeks.”
Your back meets the icy chill of the locker doors and the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them —
“Bold of you to assume that you’re fixable in two weeks.”
Zoro quirks an eyebrow, even as you resist the urge to clap your hands to your mouth, cursing inwardly at whatever the hell made you say that out loud. Your heart thuds an insistent drumbeat inside your chest as Zoro leans casually against the lockers next to you. Like this, you can feel the heat of his skin, the rhythm of his long breaths as he looks you over with sharp, curious eyes.
You think you can taste the sweet, tepid weight of his breath. It smells faintly of coffee and mint and synthetically flavored protein bars.
“Then…” he drawls, propping an arm against the locker door right next to your face, his eyes flickering from your lips up to your eyes and back down again. Your gaze is unabashedly caught on the shape of his mouth, but when you finally force yourself to look up at his eyes, it’s to find them warm and amused.
“How long do you think it’ll take?”
You gulp, “To fix your shoulder?”
Zoro shrugs, “That and… whatever else you think needs to be fixed.”
You purse your lips, an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies erupting in your stomach at his words.
“Who knows? Might take three weeks… might take — forever —” your words cut off as he leans in to graze his lips against yours. And you’re momentarily caught between delight and bewilderment that you’re right — they do taste of coffee and mint and salt — but that they also taste of a dull, throbbing hunger as he leans in to kiss you proper. And then, the blooming realization that you’re just as desperate as he is, pushing in, fingers scrabbling against the skin of his chest as his skim along the sides of your ribs, the dip of your waist.
He kisses you so deep and so long that you’re actually gasping when he finally pulls away to suck a stinging hickey into the smooth of your collarbone, his fingers digging grooves into your thighs as he hoists you up to press you against the cold, hard metal of the lockers.
You let out a clipped moan at the same time he does, and his right arm twitches, though he makes no move to let you go.
Distantly, your mind registers the fact that he’s still technically injured, but the part of you that’s hungry and clawing at the base of your stomach with a fierce, immutable need refuses to listen to reason. It takes more effort than it logically should’ve done to extricate yourself from his grasp, to push him away despite his disgruntled sigh as he stumbles back and stares at you with dark, dangerous eyes.
“What —”
“Fuck —” you hiss, even as you let your head fall back against the lockers, the dull thunk pulling a wolfish grin to his lips.
“Yeah, well —”
“Wait — no —”
Zoro cocks his head, “No?”
You reach forward to tug him back, to kiss him as deeply and desperately as you dare, but you pull away before he can properly sink into the kiss and you pin him with a look.
“We — your shoulder —”
“Fuck my shoulder —”
You shake your head, almost delusional with the heat and want and the insanity of it all, “No! We can’t! We — we’ve gotta take care of it first!”
Zoro rolls his eyes, “It’ll get better if we just leave it alone —”
You shake your head again, laughing as he presses back in, slower this time, grazing his knuckles along the skin of your jaw, tilting you back towards him.
“It won’t,” you say, softly, letting him run a thumb along your lips, “but… if you let me take care of it. It will heal faster…” you trail off, letting the implications simmer beneath the surface of all your unsaid words, and it only takes a second for Zoro to consider before he lowers you to the floor and starts haphazardly gathering up his things.
You drag a hand across your lips, watching him.
“So…” you feel yourself blush as you muster up the words but Zoro scoffs, already impatient as he shoves his stuff into one of the larger lockers and slams the door.
“Mine. It’s closer.”
eight.
His, is — in fact — much closer than you’d thought. Only two blocks from the campus, and in one of the most expensive dorm buildings. You wonder how much he must be paying for it before you realize that he's on a sports scholarship, but you can’t even bring yourself to be bitter as he lets you into his spacious dorm, the giant living room scattered with game consoles and opened cereal boxes, leading to a short hallway that opens into his bedroom.
It’s cleaner than you’d imagined, with a set of light green linens drawn neatly over a full-sized bed, and two sets of pillows.
“Sorry for the mess,” he says, sweeping some energy bar wrappers into the trash from his desk as he tosses down his duffle bag.
You shake your head, looking around, your eyes catching on the thick volumes of fencing books, the endless stacks of sports magazines, the huge set of free weights on a rack in the corner by the closet.
“Uh… do you want a drink?” he asks, suddenly awkward as he scratches at the back of his head.
You turn towards him with a grin, “No. But I do want you to take off your shirt.”
Zoro blinks before he smiles and moves towards the bed, tugging off his shirt and tossing it to the side. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as he leans back on the bed, his perfectly tanned stomach flexing beneath the slanted desk-light as he watches you through lazily hooded eyes.
“On your stomach,” you say, your voice light and surgical as you open your own bag and tug out a tub of medicated massage cream.
Zoro stares for a second before the smile slips off his face to be replaced by a dull, knowing scowl. Still, he doesn’t argue as he flips onto his stomach and sighs, pillowing his cheek on his arms as he pouts at the wall.
“Like I told you — we need to take care of your shoulder first. Regionals are in two weeks. We can’t have you performing like you did tonight.”
Zoro attempts a glare over his shoulder as you carefully maneuver over his back and straddle his hips, warming your palms with the massage cream before setting to work.
“I still won.”
His voice is tight and petulant. You nod, sighing as you work your thumbs into the dip beneath his shoulder blade where you know he’s still sore. He hisses, jerking away from you. You pin him in place with your free arm and continue to roll your thumb across the bundle of muscle.
Two minutes in, you press a bit harder and he lets out a pitched whine that makes you pause in your ministrations.
“F-fuck —” he buries his face in his pillow, thumping a fist against his bed as you laugh and continue the massage, though taking care to be a bit more careful around his injury.
Nearly twenty minutes later, you climb off the bed and wipe your hands. Zoro groans, shifting to watch you with half-lidded eyes and color-stained cheeks.
“I know,” you say, holding up your hands, “that really hurt but you feel much better now, right?”
Zoro grins, sleepy as he blinks slowly up at you, “Yeah. Whatever.”
And then, a long moment later —
“Hey,” he says, his voice soft, flipping onto his side and shifting on the bed as if to make room for you, “stay.”
You freeze, almost unwilling to believe your own ears as you finish putting away your supplies. You glance at him with tight lips and hopeful eyes.
There’s a tiny grin threatening the corners of his lips as he sighs, making a show of yawning and stretching.
“It’s late… and I don’t really feel like walking you back.”
You fold your arms, “I could just call campus security to escort me.”
Zoro stills for a second but a moment later, he casts his eyes up at the ceiling, “Yeah… you could…”
You make no move to leave.
“But you still owe me coffee in the morning,” he says.
You frown, “Wait, what? How’s that?”
He glances at you, “I’ve bought you coffee twice.”
“Yeah, but I just gave you a free 30-minute medical massage treatment for your shoulder.”
“You would’ve had to do it anyway on Wednesday in Practical Applications.”
You narrow your eyes, “Professor Kureha might not have assigned me to you.”
At this, Zoro scoffs, “Yeah right. You’re the best, and so am I.”
“S-she might not have!” you say, though there’s no real conviction in your voice. You both know that he’s right.
“Yeah. Whatever.” He turns away from you, making as if to go to sleep.
You glare at his back, dropping your bag with a loud thump.
“If anything, you owe me coffee now. That massage was worth at least two coffees, if not more.” You plop down on the edge of his bed, scowling at the opposite wall.
Zoro is quiet for a beat too long and you chance a glance at him, only to find him peering you with a strangely indulgent look in his eyes. You blush, tearing your eyes away.
“How’s breakfast?” he asks, his voice once again going soft. Your skin prickles with heat.
“What about breakfast?”
“Coffee and breakfast. That enough to pay for the massage?”
You can’t help the smile that threatens to break across your lips as you glance back at him and catch his eyes.
“I…. guess.”
Zoro chuckles, the sound so low in his throat that it makes you shiver. Quick as anything, he reaches over to pull you down towards him, easily looping an arm around your middle and flipping you both so that you’re pinned beneath him. You barely have time to gasp before you find his lips on yours once more, slow and sweet and shockingly steady.
You kiss him back, letting him push you gently into the crumpled linens of his bed. His fingers are light as he slowly works your skirt down your legs, reaching behind your torso to loosen your bra and tug your shirt from you in a single, smooth motion.
You shiver beneath him and he pulls back to stare. You search his eyes, feeling suddenly uncertain.
“God, you’re gorgeous…”
Heat crests into your cheeks as you try to look away. But he tugs you back with his thumb and steals another kiss.
“It’s late…” he says, pulling away to press your foreheads.
You nod, chewing on your bottom lip. “Yeah, I know…”
“Let’s sleep in tomorrow.”
You laugh, shifting as he curls his body around you, tugging you easily against his chest and pulling the covers over you both. A moment later, the lights click off and you’re both thrown into darkness. You let yourself relax into his arms, wondering just how you’re going to explain this to Robin tomorrow.
“Don’t think too hard about it,” Zoro’s voice murmurs into the nape of your neck.
You grin, nodding as you press further back into him and he grazes a soft kiss along your skin.
“That kinda thinking needs breakfast and coffee first,” you say, to which Zoro chuckles, nodding as he lets you hook your ankles between his, your bodies settling against each other, warm and perfect, the curves and bends meeting like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally, finally finding each other at last.
You don’t have long enough to ponder on the light, musk-salt-sweet of his skin or the way you can feel his heartbeat as it threads along your spine or the way that somehow, the shape of him doesn’t feel foreign against the shape of you, before you’re already falling asleep. And to him, he doesn’t have time to ponder the lovely silk of your hair, just as soft as he’d always imagined, or the way your waist feels perfect beneath his hands, or how he’s somehow he’s always known the rhythm of your breaths before he too is falling into the warm embrace of a dark, sweet, restful sleep as well.
nine.
Saturday morning finds you both tangled in each other, the winter sun bright and cold as it slates through the slits of Zoro’s bedroom window. He wakes up first, shifting to stretch until he feels the weight of you beside him. And then suddenly, he's somehow achingly awake and aware of his body against yours, of your paced breaths and his own rapidly increasing heartbeat. For one bewildering moment, he can’t quite remember what brought him here, and then the scenes from the night before — the bout, the lockers, the kiss — the way you’d tasted, how utterly irresistible you’d been, blushing in the dim light of his room, your skillful fingers digging into his tender, swollen flesh — his own rash promise of breakfast and coffee — it all comes rushing back. Zoro lets out a long breath and leans in to brush his lips along your forehead.
You let out a light groan as you shift in his arms, and when you turn, it’s to find him watching you.
“Oh… hey.”
Your voice is quiet, almost shy as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, and he finds himself more endeared than he has words to say.
He clears his throat.
“Morning. Uh… sleep well?”
You laugh, the warmth of your expelled breath ghosting across his clavicle in a way that makes him shiver.
“Mhm… pretty well… and you?”
Zoro clears his throat, “Yeah. Guess it wasn’t… bad.”
He resists the urge to roll away, if only because your cheek is still pillowed on his arm, and he can’t bring himself to pull away from you just yet. So instead, he drops his nose into your hair and takes in the milky scent of your coconut lotion. Tiny, pin-pricks of desire shoot through him, teasing goosebumps into the skin of his back and arms, but he forces himself to lie still as you snuggle against his chest with a contented sigh.
“So… breakfast and coffee?”
Zoro grunts, “Hn. I did promise.”
You smile, letting yourself sink into the thick and syrup of his sleep-deepened voice, his moss-green hair even more tousled than it normally is as he adjusts his head on his pillow.
“Hey,” you say, breathless as you look up at him beneath the sweep of your lashes, your eyes so big and dark and wide Zoro wonders if they might swallow him whole.
“Hey,” he answers, just as breathless, uncertainty creeping up the center of his chest as he stares down at you, lying in the glistening, mercurial light, the bend of your shoulder kissed by the morning sun, the shape of you limned in silver and gold.
You lean up to kiss him before he has the chance to second-guess himself, and though he was the more bold, self-assured one last night, you press in against him this morning, the languid sweep of your tongue along his lips making him groan, helpless, against you. He tastes the satisfied grin at the corner of your mouth as he opens his own, his mind frizzing into gorgeous, white static as you spend what feels like hours exploring the sweet depths of each other's mouths — all tongue and teeth and kiss-swollen lips.
When finally you pull apart, he is more breathless than he’d planned for, his body too warm for his liking, an urgent, pulsing something burning at the base of his stomach as he fights the urge to shove you back and sink his teeth into your skin, to hear you hiss, to make you gasp, to leave the indent of his fingers along the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, to mark you as his in every way he knows how.
But instead, he places a lingering kiss on your cheek and sits up, slowly stretching his arms.
“Careful…” you warn, pushing yourself up as well, watching him, “how’s it feel?”
Zoro tests his right side, drawing his arm up and then to the side, and then pulling it across his torso.
“Whoa… so much better.”
You smile, satisfied.
Zoro chuckles, “Guess I really do owe you breakfast. C’mon.”
He slips out of bed, tugging open a drawer to toss you a thick sweater and a pair of sweatpants. For himself, he only tugs on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, even as you frown, squinting at him from where you’re nearly swimming in his clothes.
“You’ll freeze.”
Zoro smirks as he looks you over, reaching over to pull the hood over your mussed tangle of hair, “Nah, I’m fine.”
You pout, jerking open the drawer to pull out a sweater and tossing it at him.
“You have to keep your right side warm so your muscles don’t just seize up again.”
Zoro stares at the sweater in his hand, looking reluctant before you press your lips into an exaggerated pout.
“C’mon… I worked so hard on getting it better last night… please?”
Zoro groans, rolling his eyes as he tugs on the sweater.
“Yeah, yeah — fine. Let’s go.”
He doesn’t wait for you, nor does he extend his hand. But the pair of you walk elbow to elbow, hip against hip down the bright dorm room hallway, into the chilly Saturday morning air.
“Geez, if you’re gonna yell at me to keep warm —” Zoro reaches over to tug on the drawstrings of your sweater, frowning as he notices how much skin he can still see beneath the opening of the hoodie.
You blush, tugging at it as the pair of you make your way across the empty campus quad.
Halfway across the frost-kissed lawn, he wordlessly reaches out to catch your hand in his, tucking your entwined fingers into the depths of his pocket. You bite back a stupid, dopey grin as you duck your head, quickening your pace to keep up, your footsteps crunching in the dew-bitten grass, the freshly raked gravel.
ten.
There’s already a decent line at the Straw Hats Cafe, but when the pair of you walk in hand in hand, both Sanji and Nami pause for a second longer than usual. Sanji’s eyebrows jerk up his forehead while Nami’s lips curl into a much too satisfied grin as she turns back to the humming espresso machines.
You savor in the smell of freshly ground coffee, absently tracing your thumb over the back of Zoro’s hand.
When you both reach the front, Sanji looks between you expectantly.
“Well, well, well — I’d like to say I’m surprised but —” he shrugs, grinning cheekily, “Well then I’d be lying, wouldn’t I?”
Zoro clicks his tongue but you shoot him a sheepish smile, pursing your lips.
“So… the usual then?” Sanji asks, his fingers poised over the register.
“Yep,” Zoro says, curt as ever, though there’s a distinct blush on his cheeks that not even he can write off as anything else.
You nod as well, “Oh, but… I think I’ll try a non-decaf latte this time. Just one shot of espresso though, please and thank you.”
Sanji blinks at you for a second before letting out a startled laugh and nodding, punching in your order.
“Coming right up, sweet cheeks. Right then, that’d be 8.75 for the latte and 5.50 for the double espresso.”
Zoro reaches into his wallet and pulls out a 20, slipping it across the counter. Down the bar, Nami is humming, looking cheerier than you’ve ever seen her this early in the morning as she goes about making your drinks.
Sanji sighs as he shakes his head, handing Zoro his change.
Zoro narrows his eyes but Sanji cuts him off.
“Take it from me, fam. You don’t wanna know.”
You and Zoro share a puzzled look as you both shuffle down to the pick-up counter, where Nami is sliding your finished drinks toward you with a bright, knowing glint to her eyes. Zoro clears his throat and reaches over for a packet of sugar, nonchalantly tipping it into his drink before picking it up to take a sip.
You try not to gape as you grab your own drink, flashing Nami a quick smile before turning to follow Zoro.
He picks a table as far away from the counter as possible, tucked into a corner, nearly invisible to the rest of the shop. When you sit down, he frowns at your chair for a second before reaching out to tug you across the floor till your chair is next to his. He goes back to his drink without a single word.
It’s all you can do to blush and stare at your steaming cup.
“I thought we were getting coffee and breakfast,” you say after a brief moment of silence.
Zoro grunts, “We are. Coffee first.”
You nod, somewhat mollified as you take another sip of your drink. The warmth trickles down your chest to rest somewhere in the center of your stomach, spreading heat throughout your body in waves.
“We could just get a chocolate croissant,” you say, giving Zoro a sidelong look.
Zoro frowns, tapping his finger against the side of his cup, “Dessert isn’t breakfast.”
You scoff, “Says who?”
Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Says me. And I’m payin’ for it.”
You purse your lips, wondering if you should argue more before deciding against it. A few seconds later, Zoro sighs, casting his eyes about the cafe interior.
“We can have a croissant after real breakfast.”
You giggle into your drink, swallowing down the glee fluttering in your stomach, threatening to spill out of your still kiss-chapped lips.
“Kay, whatever you say.”
Zoro rolls his eyes and folds his arms, but his elbow presses against yours and he doesn’t make to move away.
Across the cafe, Nami leans to watch the pair of you, Sanji at her side, looking both stunned and somewhat pained.
“C’mon man, it’s not even been a week!”
Nami grins, rinsing out a few cups and placing them mouth down to dry before pivoting on her heels and holding out an expectant palm. Sanji sighs as Nami’s eyes glitter with mirth and a hard-won glee.
“Right. I think you owe me fifty bucks.”
Sanji narrows his eyes, glancing back at where you and Zoro are tucked into the corner of the cafe.
“Double or nothing on when they’ll have their first fight. I say… not till next week.”
Nami’s eyebrows twitch up. She looks back at where the pair of you are now bickering over where to have breakfast. A smirk teases at her lips.
She puts down her hand, “Alright then… but like I said — it’s your funeral, Sanji.”
Over in the corner, there’s the dull scrape of chair legs as you push yourself away from the table to fold your arms.
“— Belgian waffles are absolutely an acceptable meal for breakfast!”
Zoro rolls his eyes, though there’s still an amused spark behind his eyes.
“Breakfast without eggs ain’t real breakfast. And doesn’t count if it’s smothered in syrup either.”
You make an indignant noise, frowning even as Zoro tugs you back to press a napkin to your upper lip, where there’s a faint line of whipped cream residue.
Sanji backpedals immediately, “Uh — right so, I feel like we need to define what really constitutes a ‘fight’, yeah?”
Nami tuts, shaking her head, “Nope! A bet’s a bet. Now pay up.”
feedback always welcome :) reqs are closed.
#one piece#one piece live action#opla zoro#opla roronoa zoro#roronoa zoro#roronoa zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x you#x reader#opla#one piece netflix#opla zoro x reader#one piece live action x you#one piece live action x reader#roronoa zoro fluff#one piece fluff#opla fluff#roronoa zoro imagines#opla x reader#roronoa zoro scenarios#one piece x reader#floofy floof floof#scheduled post#*incoherent screeching noises*#i hope you guys liked the nico robin tribute hahahhahha i love robin tbh#can't wait to see her in live action#also kureha tbh -__- jaime lee curtis WE ARE LOOKING DISRESPECTFULLY#college fencer zoro
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unfair, controlling, hypocritical — miguel o’hara. drabble based on this writing prompt request.
your breath caught the moment you saw his back stop. all your words, you wish you could swallow. the silence was almost strangling before his low voice decided to break it. “you wanna repeat that?”
you manage to simultaneously shake your head and nod. why were you nodding? you didn’t want to repeat what you had said. you had been angry. you are angry. maybe that’s why. miguel has slowly turned, his visible fangs and blood red eyes seeming more prominent as his shoulders flex.
his question still lingers in the air. he hadn’t seen you shake/nod your head. that was probably for the better. “is silence all i’m getting now?” miguel asks, voice still weighed heavy with tension.
you gulp. “do you want me to repeat it?” you quietly manage, because now he was nearing, your feet sliding back. and just as you feel gravity pull you down with a slip to your foot—the edge now scraping your sole — miguel’s hand grips around the middle of your suit. he’s holding you up by some material, his claws probably ruining the stitching.
“do you really think that i want to hear you repeat how i’m some fucking unfair, controlling, hypocritical bastard?” he sneers out the words. his face inches closer to yours as you hold your breath. “i’d love to hear those words come out your mouth again, cariño.”
at one point you thought you could feel the graze of his fang against your lower lip. but to be fair you’re fraction dazed by his proximity. blame it on that. delusions, because miguel would never—
his free hand harshly tilts your head up, your lips now most definitely brushing against his canines. “so you think i’m unfair?” miguel practically speaks to your mouth. his hand that is gripping your suit material is still making you lean slightly over the ledge, your hands now gripping his biceps, as your heart picks a quicker beat.
his hand on your chin slips down your waist. then your body jolts, his fingers having found a placement between your legs. “is this position unfair?” he inquires far too innocently. all your words are choked. “if i let go you’d fall. you’re reliant on me to keep you up…does that make me controlling?”
the pads of his fingers lightly graze back and forth over your covered pussy, making your breathing catch. “is me…touching you like this unfair?”
and through the slight shake of your body you manage a few words. “hypocrite. you forgot hypocrite.” your words are some what of a form of you trying to get your own back. to stand taller, despite the clear lean of your body.
miguel actually manages a chuckle. though it’s dipped in mocking and utter power. “of course. a hypocrite. because despite all of what i’m saying, and what i’m trying to prove…” he pauses, gaze flickering across your features, and then down to your slightly parted lips. “i want to hear you say how much you want me to touch you like this…”
your gaze slightly widens, as you meet his red, now determined eyes. “what?”
“so you were right. i am a fucking unfair, controlling, hypocritical bastard.” miguel’s breath is now fanning over your mouth, as he tugs you closer. “and i’ll show you just how much that title suits me.”
© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.
#. ( spidey mark )#sorry this is short#but i really liked this#so#yay#the miguel effect#miguel x you#miguel x y/n#miguel smut#miguel spiderverse#miguel o’hara smut#miguel spiderman#miguel ohara x reader#miguel ohara#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel o’hara across the spider verse#atsv#across the spiderverse#miguel o’hara#atsv x reader
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Hobie Headcannons cs some of y’all be treating this man like he’s some white goth nga that’s never had black experiences 😭😭 these are js off the top of my head so don’t tweak out… JUH VIBE
He’s most likely Jamaican/British or African/British because he’s from the UK
He has had multiple people try to force him into playing basketball at least once because he’s 6’5
“Man, so you telling me you ain’t never tried going D1?”
“Never even played.”
“NIGGA WHAT?”
Has gotten his hand popped multiple times from touching his hair while getting it done
“How many do you have left?”
“Boy move that damn hand.”
Gives horrible advice then says “but I don’t kno, thats just me”
“She cheated on me bru. Like cheated. Called me ON FACETIME while they was hunchin.”
“Me personally I would find the guy and start a gas leak in their house while his family is sleeping. But ion kno, that’s just me tho.”
Played soccer as a kid with a makeshift paper soccer ball
Was one of those kids who were forced to finish their plate before leaving the dinner table so he would sit at the table till the next day playing with his food
Illegally listens to and downloads most of the music he likes
“Wanna do a Spotify blend?”
“Y’all use that shi?”
“who df are you bro…”
Will side eye you till you burst out laughing if you both see something crazy in public
Sung chi-chi man religiously as a child before he knew what the song meant (iykyk)
Takes pictures of white people with braids or locs
Hobie: Attachment: 1
disgusting creatures…
Hangs trash bags on his doorknobs around the house
Had entire debates as a child with older people at the cookout on why he should be able to eat ribs instead of hotdogs
“These steaks for the adults, go grab a lil hotdog and a juice.”
“But why? Can’t we both eat and enjoy the same things without you having to dehumanize me and view me only as a child without preferences for food?”
“Boy go get that fuckin hotdog and caprisun get out my face.”
Had his hairline pushed back astronomically far when he was little (Nigerian boy canon event)
On the other hand he probably never had his hair cut as a kid and started free-forming when he was young (I’m conflicted between both)
Constantly had a smart mouth as a kid (he still does), like CONSTANTLY. Once he got his lips snatched and balled into a fist
Would steal, get caught and say is “it cause I’m black?”
“Yo, were you stealing back there?”
“Why bruv? Cause I’m black?”
“Nevermind.”
Touches hot ass food with his bare hands. Like he will flip pancakes with his hands.
Can literally sleep anywhere.. like anywhere. People in his band have pictures of him hunched over on sinks, sleeping on bathroom floors, in bathtubs with the curtains wrapped around him, on the bus. Anywhere you can think of.
He doesn’t spend much money on birthday gifts or gifts in general. He likes to make things by hand even if he has to spend a few weeks
After his shows he loves to meet people in the crowd, even if they freak out. He isn’t really for the idolizing so he doesn’t know how to express his emotions too much on that.
“OH MY GOD HOBIE!?!”
“i aint think i was that special but thanks luv”
• His jacket makes HELLA noise and he doesn’t realize it. Just like if he had beads in his hair.
“imma get bro good this time..”
“Hobie don’t even try to scare me, i hear that big ass jacket thumpin down the hallway.”
• The first time he kissed a girl with lip piercings like his, they got caught on each other. They sat there for almost half and hour trying to untangle each other without hurting each other.
• He’s definitely been called a few different celebrities before, none really looked like him.
“Are you playboi carti?!”
“Bruv.”
over.
“Your that rockstar dude lancey right?”
“bru…”
and over.
“you Opium?”
“I’m starting to feel this is lowkey sterotypical…”
and over again.
• When he’s in the pit at concerts he looks out for the younger people towards the front to make sure they don’t get thrashed around too hard.
“you good young’n?”
“I CANT FEEL MY FACE”
“that’s cool too”
• He only really steals from big corporations, not small family owned places. Just out of respect. Even when they say he can take things for free he still pays, maybe a few dollars over budget.
• He loves collecting trinkets and little things he finds on the streets or backstage. He has multiple spoons, buttons and scrap fabrics laying around
• When he first learned about capitalism he realized it everywhere, like EVERYWHERE. That boy was pissed.
• He loves girls who can beat him tf up, like whoop his ass. Or girls who will cuss him tf out. Sometimes you both will be arguing and he’ll just sit back and let you go off on him.
anyways yawl that’s it lmk if I should drop some more this was fun asl to make 😛
#hobie brown#atsv hobie#hobie spiderverse#hobie my beloved#hobie headcanons#headcanon#hobie x reader#spiderpunk x reader#spider punk#spiderman atsv#hobart brown#hobie brown x reader
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okay I still cannot stop thinking about best friend jj and reader. Its mentioned her parents have body shamed her in the past and her mom makes that comment about her hips. What if it really got to her at one point and JJ is the only one who noticed. Not like a full blown eating disorder thankfully but that he noticed her skipping meals and he had to sit her down on his lap and tell her she was perfect...sorry just me thinking lol
eeek! first in between au request! thank you for the continuous love ♡︎
warnings reader skipping meals, body shaming (r's parents), bsf!jj being a sweetheart as usual [1k]
At first, it wasn’t a big deal.
JJ was well aware that sometimes, when you were stressed, you’d forget to eat. He’d urge you to at least steal a few pieces of food off his plate (okay, maybe more than a few), and his mind would be at peace knowing that you were now fed and taken care of.
But soon, he noticed that it became a daily thing. You’d tell him you weren’t hungry, or that you’d already eaten earlier, but then, he’d hear your stomach growling and watch you blatantly ignore it. You looked exhausted all the time, your physical strength was depleting. He’d watch you grow snappy at the smallest things, watch the way you’d pick at your food and move it around on your plate mindlessly every time you two ate together. Then, you’d dismiss his concerns with a forced smile.
After a few weeks had gone by, and your actions had remained the same, he knew something was up. He couldn’t stand to see you become a shell of who you usually were. There was no spark of wonder in your eyes. It was like all your hope had been sucked out of you.
He also knew that your family was hard on you when it came to your body. And it sucked to admit, but at the beginning, he hadn't thought too much of it. Now, though, something was going on with his favourite girl and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.
“Hey, you feel like goin’ to the Wreck? I'm feelin’ a seafood boil right now.”
You simply shrugged him off, your gaze remaining on the work in front of you. You’d been consumed in it all day, barely even blinking an eye in JJ’s general direction.
“Not really hungry. I can come with you, though?”
Approaching you at your seat in front of your desk, his hands pried the pen from your hand, and he placed it down on the wooden surface. Then, he crouched down to get a better look at you.
“What’s goin’ on with you?”
You turned away from him, scared of looking into his eyes. His tone indicated that you’d been caught. You should’ve known that he would pick up on your change in demeanour sooner or later.
It was JJ.
Getting things past him simply was not a thing. It never was.
Still, though, you’d make the effort even if it proved to be pointless. You weren’t sure the honesty was worth seeing the disappointment on his face.
“Nothing. Jus’ not hungry.”
“Y/N, I haven’t seen you eat a proper meal in two weeks.”
“I said I'm good, J.” Your voice was bitter and sharp as you picked your pen back up, breaking free of his hold and trying to continue with your work. “If you wanna eat, go eat.”
He took the pen from your hand again, stuffing it in his pocket so you couldn’t get to it as easily.
“You really think that by now, I don’t know when you’re actin’ up?” He held your face in his hands, ensuring that you couldn’t look away from him again. “Jus’ tell me what’s goin’ on so I can fix it.”
“You can’t fix this, J.”
He sighed softly, his thumbs swiping over the apples of your cheeks. “Try me.”
You stalled for a moment. You didn’t want the judgement, You knew what he would say.
Y/N/N, don’t listen to him. He’s a piece of shit. He has no idea what he’s talking about.
If this was about anything else, maybe you would’ve believed him. But after hearing comments from your parents about your body for almost two decades…maybe their words had some truth to them, right?
But when you looked into those oceanic puppy-dog eyes, it was as if he was willing the truth out of you wordlessly. Sighing, you broke free of his grasp carefully. You strolled over to your dresser, pulling your phone off of the surface and opening your messages on your way back to him. You handed him the device, the glow of your screen illuminating his face as it showed him the texts you’d received from your father earlier last week.
You think your mother and I haven’t noticed how you’ve gotten fuller? Everything you’ve worn to our events lately has only made you look worse. A girl your age should be slimmer. We should get you on a diet, up your physical activity.
If you don’t fix your appearance, you’re going to embarrass us in front of our colleagues. We can’t secure this deal if you’re looking plump.
I’ve had it. You shouldn’t accompany us anywhere for the next few months. Not until you get your weight under control.
Rage bubbled deep in his core, threatening to swallow him whole. It had always puzzled him beyond belief — how your parents could look at you and see the complete opposite of what he had.
Perfection.
He tried to remain stoic. You’d never been happy when he got upset over things your parents had done in the past, and right now, when you were looking so pained, how could he make things worse?
“Y/N/N,” he said, hands bracing your shoulders. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
You couldn’t even find the courage to look up at him. You were too scared, too ashamed. You didn’t want his pity, you just wanted the voices to stop, and though you believed JJ could do anything, you weren’t sure if he could quiet that noise.
It was too blaring.
“You’re actin’ like there’s somethin’ to fix, but there isn’t. You’re perfect. I don’t care what your dress size is. You don’t need to be cuttin’ back. End of story.”
“J, it’s just not that easy—”
His index finger found your lips, effectively shushing you and garnering your attention. “They’re wrong about everythin’ else, right?”
You nodded slowly. “…Yeah.”
“So what makes ‘em right about this?”
He got you good. He’d always had a certain way with you, and thank God he did.
One of his hands abandoned your shoulder, finding your face instead. Blue eyes bore their soul into yours, trying to engrave how he viewed you into your brain.
“Eat whatever the fuck you want. You’re beautiful, and you always will be.”
#꒰ — daydreams ꒱#꒰ — in between universe ꒱#jj maybank#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank fic#jj maybank x you#jj maybank x kook!reader#jj maybank x y/n#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank prompt#jj maybank blurb#jj maybank brainrot#jj maybank brain rot#jj maybank concepts#jj maybank concept#jj maybank thoughts#bestfriend!jj maybank#bestfriend!jj#best friend!jj maybank#best friend!jj#jj obx#jj outer banks#jj maybank obx#jj maybank outer banks
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random horny fear rage Cameron thoughts from the frat queen thank you
Hi baby 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭 i think fear and rage is frat rafe based off the rest of the ask 🩷 Also side note auto correct changing rafe to rage always sends me 😂💀 because… yeah. Thank you for your ask!!
Unedited
400 ish ?
+18 (brief unprotected p in v, language)
Frat!Rafe x female reader
Rafe’s strong arm wraps around your shoulder as he walks you up the stairs of the frat house for the most unnecessary tour, considering all you have on your mind is him and getting him alone. All his words are going in one ear and out the other. The only thing you’re retaining is the depth of his tone and rasp in his voice, making you even wetter.
Rafe reaches down, turning his door knob finding it locked. “No fuckin’ way,” he hisses. His eyebrows furrow, annoyance painted all over his face as he lifts his fist, banging on the door. You hear Top next, screaming that the room is occupied. Rafe’s hardened demeanor softens again as he leans his back into the wooden door, pulling you in by the small of your back as he wets his lip, flipping his snapback around to lessen the space between you even more.
“Occupied,” you pout, body buzzing as you find yourself deliciously close to his lips, just far enough to see his smile curl into a smirk. “You think any of these are free?”
“It’s a big house, doll. We got options…” He croons. “My trucks always free if you wanna be alone. We don’t need to play this guessing game.”
“Your truck huh?” You light up just enough - Rafe, takes his chance, leading you in the opposite direction a moment later. The two of you walk back through the packed frat house as you feel your heart start to pick up speed. As soon as you pass the threshold you let out a gasp as Rafe takes you into his arms. You wrap yours lazily around his neck, fingers lightly scratching at the nape of his neck making the blonde groan and smile. “So…”
“So…” You giggle, cocking your head ever so slightly. Rafe chuckles, turning his gaze narrowly, trying to compose himself.
“I like you, sweetheart.”
“I like you too,” you add, making Rafe turn his full focus back to you.
“I don’t want you to think I’m out here for a quick fuck. ‘Cause I'm not.”
Your eyes widen at his words, lips pulling in a sweeping smile. “We’re fuckin’, Cameron?” You asks in that breathy tone that has him pushing your back against the side of his lifted truck, hauling you into a searing kiss. Rafe’s tongue slips between your lips, reeling with yours as his body grinds into you, pulling away between kisses to confirm exactly what you wanted.
“Yeah - yeah we are.” He opens the passenger’s side door, setting you down, making you gasp as he lays back the seat fast. The two of you works off your clothes, stealing kisses in between. Your bare skin clings to the leather as Rafe pulls you to the edge of the seat, moving closer on his knees with one hand on his cock, the other on your hip.
Your fingers trace down his broad chest, catching all that you can see in the dark. A single streetlight gives you a sliver of light, just a glimpse of his tanned, toned skin, and muscles. “I wish I could see you,” you sigh.
“Round two aight? You're not gettin away from me.”
“Okay,” you respond dizzily as your fingers trace through his abs, retreating to hook around his neck as his fat tip glides through your folds, catching your clit making you moan. Rafe leans in again, just like he did in the frat house, that same magnetism pulling you in as well. Rafe’s lips brush softly against yours, pressing firmly as he pushes in.
Your lips separate from his as they fall open in a soft “o”. Rafe kisses the corner of your mouth as his cock fills you completely. “Rafe…” You squeal. He circles his hips, letting you adjust to his size to no avail as he stretches you out like never before.
“Holy shit…” He grunts in reply as he drags his long, thick cock out making you whine at the loss of him. “You feel too damn good, princess. You alright?”
“So good...”
The car is quiet, the soft bass of the party is all that's heard between Rafe’s teasingly shallow thrusts resulting in lewd squelching of your wet pussy, making him chuckle smugly. Rafe reaches up, wrapping his hands around the two metal bars connecting the seat to the headrest. His big biceps flex as he curls his fingers around the metal, no doubt planning on using his grip to fuck you right. “Ready for more?”
A/N: I also dropped a text chain today
tags: @rafesthroatbaby @voyeurmunson @beth-gallagher22 @Starkeysbebe @999ares9996 @oxpogues4lifexo @Dilfswife @chiaraanatra @ietss @drewswifeeee @theoraekenslover @niyahnotnia @romaescapes @gri959
@redhead1180 @h34rtsformilli @joannamuns9n @waywardsoul113
@marahgubler
@dckweed @humanvampire13
@drewstarkeyslut @juniebugg @wearemadeofstardust0
@imbabycowboy @rafesgiirl
@obxbabies @cutielando
@rafedrewandjjs
#rafe cameron#anon answered#rafe cameron smut#outer banks#rafecore#rafe cameron x smut#frat rafe#frat rafe cameron#frat!rafe smut#rafe smut#rafe blurb#rafe cameron x fem!reader#rafe#rafe cameron blurb#obx rafe cameron
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There Is A Heaven, Lets Keep It A Secret
Summary: The owner of the brothel you were sold to only offered you to the ghoul in the hopes it would frighten you. To stop you from trying to run away. You weren’t meant to actually like it.
Characters: The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x F!Reader.
Words: ~1K.
Warnings: ghoul fucking, what else can I say? Mostly PWP, some initially unintended angst, 18+.
A/N: Dedicated to the queens that are @sweeterthanthis & @likedovesinthewnd ❤️ Not beta’ed so all errors, spelling mistakes and general bullshit are entirely mine.
The smell of leather and day old blood used to turn your stomach. But as Cooper slams his glove over your mouth to keep you quiet, your gut rolls with something that’s so far removed from revulsion, it makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.
Pavlovian instinct or not, warmth blossoms in your core, and flames take root in your veins until all you can feel is unmistakable heat.
“Ssh sweetheart,” he coos in Texan above you. “Can’t have them knowin’ you like it. You wouldn’t want me to stop comin’ around, would ya?”
He doesn’t need your affirmation in words. The way your cunt pulses around him is more enough to tell him what he already knows.
The ghoul was only meant to scare you into staying. To put you in your place.
But the more he keeps coming back, the more of the man beneath the irradiated skin shines through.
Initial terror morphs into adoration and some nights, when the raiders decide to get a little rough, you find yourself hiding inside your head— fantasising that it’s his hands on you instead.
But the fantasy only lasts briefly. Cooper Howard would never.
Unless you ask him nice and pretty.
You stare up at him, his eyes lost in the way your breasts bounce from the force of his thrusts. He ruts into you with abandon, the loud slap of his hips against your ass echoing around the room. The obscenity makes heat creep up your spine, and settle thick beneath your cheeks.
You can’t have anyone knowing that these moments are all that keep you sane.
“Maybe it ain’t gonna be your mouth that reveals your truth, after all, honey,” Cooper observes with a husk.
A free hand slides up your writhing body, and a gloved thumb runs circles over your pebbling nipple. Your back arches at the contact, forcing your hips up. His stare catches yours over the top of leather.
“There you are, little Jet,” he smiles.
Cooper lifts your leg over his shoulder, the contrast in depth steals the breath from your lungs. He notices— must see the way your eyes widen as he slides back inside you, right up to the root. Your hand flies up, tightening your grip around his wrist.
“Right there, huh?” With another brash smile, he presses his lips firm against the inside of your knee. The kiss sends pulses of electricity firing straight to your core.
Fuck. If there was still a God, you’d pray.
There was a part of you that used to hate how easily he managed to unravel the components that make you weak.
But hate fast became a need. Now you welcome it. Crave it.
Your stomach lurches with heat the moment his pace begins to quicken. Everything suddenly heightens around you— heartbeat and all five of the senses— and it’s evident your end is close to catching you.
“You gonna give me what I came for, sweetheart?” His voice is gentle, but his actions are not.
You nod. You’d give him your fucking life at this point.
His hand slides off your mouth, settling loosely around your throat like a necklace. “Wanna hear you beg.”
You lick your lips wet, the words, “Please, Coop,” hissing quietly through your teeth. Just loud enough for him to hear.
He smirks. His free hand finds its way between your legs without a second thought, and the roughness of the leather against your sensitive clit is everything you need to tumble over the edge.
Cooper clamps his hand back over your mouth, hurrying to stifle your scream as you splinter beneath him. Stars swell, bursting into bright white behind your eyes just as the tremors start off in your thighs. Euphoria claims you for its own, and by the time you’re finished, your entire body is shaking with delirium.
He stares down at you in awe, hips snapping to a rhythm that has you keening into the palm of his glove. Leather and blood encompass you. Your body ripples from the weight of Cooper’s body against yours, your name wrapped up within his lips as he surrenders to his high.
When he moves out from between your legs, you’re too fucked out to pull him back in. Every inch of you needs him back.
You hate this moment the most. The awkward silence before he has to leave. And as he glances at you over his shoulder, tipping his hat in your direction like the goddamn gentlemen he still is beneath the surface, you feel a twinge in your chest.
“Until next time sweetheart,” he drawls thickly.
You flash him a small smile. “I’ll be here, Coop, just like always.”
And just like always, you’ll be counting down the days like it’s fucking Christmas.
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𝐏𝐀𝐂 : 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅.𝐒.
Hello love's for this reading i channel a love letter from your future spouse , i really have a lack of fs readings and ik I don't do that enough but here's it because I feel so called to do this todayyy. Take what resonates and leave the rest , you can choose multiple . I hope you guys like this and feedbacks are always always appreciated !!!!!
Pile 1 :
Mon Amour ,
The sweet river of my life, the reason I live , the reason I thrive , I've been seeing you in my dreams since past lives and I can't fathom the beauty in your eyes . Ever since we've been together and the day i met you my life has been absolutely the one I dream of . Thank you for always being the shoulder I can learn on thank you i think i don't say it enough, you deserve the world and I'm trying everyday to bring in the world for you . I love the way you make art and love the way you make me your muse if I had the talent you had i probably would sing for you . I love your sweet kisses like candy and i hate every moment i argue so I'm happy to be sorry first kidding I know you're always right kinda bad on my part right , I wanna give you the world and there's so much to be done yet , so much to achieve , so much to heal but i know with you by my side i will heal. So i steal the thunder from heaven to make a souvenir of my love even when i am dead the way i tell you about my love won't be enough.
- yours completely
Pile 2 :
Dear love ,
In my darkest days you're the light I turn to , my heart is so full even when my brain is in shambles because I have you . I'm so in love that I can barely eat so I soak up your sunshine and I'm all fine and better under your holy light . We are a pair and we will make history and all these people that think we're too young too naive will be left in misery, they don't see you like i do, we both see each other . They say love is a big thing but I'd like laundry and taxes with you . Plain bread with you tastes like heaven , even tho I'm a heathen i pray the heavens for you may the paradise we make last forever, may i always keep jewellery in your altar , may things never be forbidden in our diary and in all of the things that are may I know one thing for sure that I don't wanna spend a moment away from you anymore . I burn for you I'm human for you .
- your lover
Pile 3 :
Hey Miss,
Springtime your time my time I look at you my beautiful flower fuller than poppies , more abundant than a lotus , like a burning rose with desire , you set me on fire , yet you cool me like running water how do you do , how do you put me in this state . I wanna love you don't you think it's getting late for even a while to wait , meet me at the garden gate . I don't know much but I know I came into earth to be with you i could be a tree but I'm a human to love you like humans do . How could you know me so well i almost lose myself when I'm with you and that's what I want when I'm with you to be free like a child . I wanna devote all my evenings to make coffee for you and i wanna spend all my breaths being high because I love you so much my thoughts spin out , you're moon herself you grant wishes so please grant mine goddess divine .
- always yours
Pile 4 :
Hey sweetheart,
I've been on a quest to find you , since I was young I've always felt that I was meant for more than just I saw what other couples around me had I knew I needed to be drowned and insane when i like someone , but the way you lift me up gave me all of it together , you're all the bright colours at once , yet you're a mystery , I love that i figure out something beautiful about you each day I know life with you can never be boring, it's always fun always worth living , thank you for holding me when the world discarded me , I know angels are real because i have seen you . Sorry for the times i mess things up , i never want that . we need to be together to explore this world without this bond this earth is mere ground with fire at the core , I wanna love you more . How do I explain this love where do I put all my love for you you're growing into me with each day I place your name in my heart like a sweet melody , i live to love you , I love to love you.
- only yours forever
Thank you so much for reading, have a great day/night ❤️
#god this felt so god#this was the pac i wrote fastest#pac readings#pac tarot#tarot pac#pac reading#pac#pick a card tarot#pick a picture#pick a photo#pick a card reading#pick a card#pick a pile#future spouse pick a card#future spouse reading#future spouse
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⍣ ೋ climbing up the walls
˚ · . kuroo tetsurou x afab!reader
: ̗̀➛ semi-public sex, groping, slapping, degradation, slight choking, unprotected sex, dumbifcation, hair pulling
you bite harshly into the cotton that's stuffed into your mouth. it's your own panties, forced to have them there in order to conceal your lewd moans and mewls. you don't want to get caught after all, being caught having sex in the boy's locker room will definitely get the two of you in trouble, especially kuroo.
kuroo's hands spread and caress your plump asscheeks like dough, occasionally slapping the sensitive flesh for his own amusement, he spreads them apart, cock twitching at the sight of your untouched asshole. he'll have to take your virginity there too someday.
he grins mischievously, drops of sweat dropping from his chin down to the uncleaned tile beneath you. he angles his hip upwards, his cockhead flush against your delicate g-spot. a muffled moan escapes from your stuffed mouth, shushed by kuroo as he wraps a hand around your neck.
"shh, babe. you don't want anything to hear you being such a slut in a locker room now do you?" he casually says as he fucks his cock into your tight pussy. his fingers rest on your neck, feeling the vibrations of your low moans.
"or do you? y-you like being a little slut don't you?" he groans at his own words, his other hand coming to grope your free breasts, pinching roughly at your sensitive buds. your own hands are glued onto the cold walls, attempting to grab and ground yourself on anything you can.
he takes advantage of your silence, his hand releasing his grip on your neck to wrapping around the ends of your pretty hair and pulling it backwards. pushing himself forward, his chest becomes flush with your back, his cock sheathened in your confulsving pussy to the base. it's stuffing you full, his cockhead kissing the entrance and pushing against your cervix.
you cum at the feeling, you feel like you can't breathe, his cock painfully pushes against your cervix, as if he's trying to break through. "answer me whore." he says sternly, angling his face so he can lick the tears of pleasure off your cheek. he feigns a scoff at your silence, "too dumb to even respond."
with that, he's jackhammering his cock against your cervix, all previous touches of gentleness is disregarded with the way he's fucking you so vulgarly. "i'm gunna c-cum y/n-" he stammers, leaning his body weight against you as he fails to hold himself up.
he steals kisses onto your neck and jaw, his other hand gripping onto your lower tummy. "i wanna cum inside—fuck," he cries out, his hips loosing rhythm as he comes on the verge of his orgasm. with a simple weak nod of approval from you, he's coming with a gutteral groan as he spills his warm load inside of your unprotected cunt.
"hah, shit.." he curses, heaving heavily from the intense orgasm he's recovering from. once he feels more stronger, he's pulling your panties from your mouth, unfolding them and sliding them back up your damp thighs. he fixes up the rest of your clothes before he finally pulls up the shorts of his uniform and embraces you into a hug, settling you down onto the bench with a kiss to your earlobe.
"i love you," he reminds, leaving the embrace to attend his volleyball match.
please like and repost with tags
#kuroo fluff#kuroo tetsuro x reader#hq kuroo#haikyuu kuroo#kuroo angst#kuroo x reader#kuroo smut#kuroo tetsurou#kuroo x reader smut#haikyuu!#haikyu#haikyū!!#haikyuu!!#haikyuu smut#haikyuu kuroo tetsuro
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˚୨୧⋆｡ જ⁀➴ ♡‧₊˚ [ ストロベリー ]
✩‧₊˚ pairing — boyfriend!jk x hyperfem!f!reader
✩‧₊˚ warnings — fluff, sm*t (not too detailed tho), cutesy couple stuff, v dramatic koo, marking, dry h*mping, c*ckwarming
nothing’s more fun than sitting on your boyfriend’s lap, looking pretty while doing your makeup <3
banner made by moi, pls don’t steal! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧
☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★
“mmph, hah—stopp that tickles!” your voice squeaks from forcefully letting out a string of giggles. attempting to apply eyeshadow through the vanity in front of you but failing miserably. all you can hear is him whining and moaning, “but whyyy? i’m having too much fun with youu.” ring clad fingers creep up past your collarbone again, jungkook was getting way more entertainment out of this than you. “‘c-cause you’re distracting me, gah!” the noises you’re making are obnoxiously loud at this point but he didn’t seem to care at all. you’ve given up—tears began to form in the corners of your eyes now, this tickle spree has gone on for far too long but no matter how much you protest and squirm he wouldn’t let you out his grasp.
it started off tranquil at first, casually sitting on his lap with his arms locked around your waist—nuzzling his chin in your neck as you do your makeup to head out with friends later. you were trying to keep him entertained by narrating everything you’re doing, acting like one of those beauty gurus you like to watch on tiktok or youtube. you wore your my melody spa headband to keep the strands out your face, along with your favorite pastel mini dress, the knee high stockings with satin bows were the cherry on top set the look. jungkook gets bored super easily, his mind will draw attention elsewhere in a split second and usually that ends up with bothering you as much as possible. he’d sneak quick little kisses here and there, play with your thighs, basically keeping his hands anywhere but to himself. that’s when he started tickling you for no absolute reason, he loved hearing your high-pitched squeals—it was pure serotonin to him, he needed more to brighten his day.
“koo!” you cry, “please!” your shaky hands fumble with the brush in attempt to playfully hit him with it. sigh, you just wanna do your makeup in peace. “l-leavee me alone!” it sounded nowhere near threatening coming from you, there was not a scary bone in your body whatsoever. “like i’ll ever do that peaches, you’re my babyy,” he chimes, glittering you with sweet endearing compliments “you shouldn’t be so stinkin’ cute! wanna eat you.” when he pretends to bite your ear this only makes the uncontrollable laughter continue, and by now you’re never going to finish this makeup in time. “i really need.. t-to get goin’ ssoon!” there was no indication what the time was currently but you know you’ve wasted enough that you were going to be running late meeting your friends. “mmm..but i don’t want you to go, stay here!” jungkook finally caves in with stopping the tickles (only for now) but gets all mopey about you leaving him.
“eeek, i’m free!” you graciously cheer now that you can go back to what you’re doing. “so handsy today, maybe it’s the strawberry lotion..” “ah, so that’s what it is?” he asks, “was wonderin’ why you smelled like strawberry shortcake.” “mhm, i know you like that one.” you grab your eyeshadow brush to dip it in your fav dior palette, choosing a pretty peach color to add to your eyelid, then apply silver glitter on top to make it pop. “who you looking all cute for like this anyway, huh? i won’t be able to protect you from all the pervs staring at what’s mine!” god he can be so overly dramatic at times, always wanting to keep you inside so no one can even look at you. of course he doesn’t do it in a toxic way but he gets jealous real easily and never let’s go of your hand when out in public—he just feels so lucky to have stumbled upon someone like you, cute, smart, funny, sexy, kind, all in one.
lush pink lips trail down to your shoulders, the slightest touch leaving you with goosebumps as he’s still hugging your waist firmly in his embrace. “ugh…don’t want you to go.” jungkook murmurs against you, gliding his hands up and down your body, he sounded so sad and it didn’t help that you could see him pouting through the mirror. “i won’t be out for long, i’ll be back before you know it kookie!” he still didn’t sound convinced. he was very selfish with you, he wants you all to himself most of the time so whenever you go hang out with friends he makes it such a big production. “you’re so beautiful baby,” he coos, “my cute little princess.” his veiny hands shift underneath the hem of your dress, caressing your plump, ample thighs. more delicate kisses are planted up your neck, he’s become increasingly quiet now—focusing solely on this moment of cherishing you. he might’ve gotten a bit too comfortable as one of his hands traveled up to fondle your breasts, not even realizing until you said something.
“was last night not enough for you?” you giggle, reaching for your lipstick. “no” he simply replied, “i need you 24/7.” “all day, every day.” he was too precious, you wanted to put him in your pocket forever. you moved ever so slightly in his bond, noticing the familiar feeling of his bulge against your clothed heat. just that tiny bit of movement was enough to get you flustered. you hadn’t sensed his overt horniness until now—just bathing in his warmth and letting his desires roam free, you didn’t think he’d actually get turned on by all of this. then again, this is jungkook we’re talking about, he’ll get horny just by seeing your ankle. “mmph…want you baby.” his pleas are so adorable to you, but you’re already short on time so you had to hurry soon. jungkook rocks his hips into you, sliding his fingertips down your sides while nipping at your neck. “we gotta make it quick though..” you whisper softly, grinding against him to match his lazy movement. “you have my word princess.” he steers your hips in place to keep you exactly where he wants, steadily running his hands over your exposed skin. the tent in his pants only grew as you kept rubbing your ass on him, he’s simply going to jizz himself if it continues like this.
“fuck, can’t take anymore. want to feel youu.” he whines immaturely, never able to contain any patience within. “better hurry then.” you remind him of the time crunch, with that answer he wastes not another second to pull it out of his sweatpants—sliding your panties aside and slipping in with ease. your body’s become so accustomed to him that you don’t need foreplay half the time. once he’s fully settled in he stays motionless for a while, letting you adjust to his thickness. several fleeting kisses saturate your back, leading them up to your neck once more to leave small love bites. you’re unsure of why he still hasn’t moved yet but you don’t question it, you’re enjoying the moment you two are sharing. it didn’t really feel like you were being sexual with him; more so a passionate intimate bonding that runs deeper than just sex. jungkook loves you intensely and you can feel it in every fibre of his being. the way he holds you, kisses you, pampers you, makes sure you feel like the most beautiful girl in the universe to him. he was so yours. “we don’t even need to fuck, i can stay like this baby.” he rests his head on your shoulder, drinking in the sweetness of your strawberry fragrance. “okay.” you smile, the feeling of him pulsating inside emits a glowing sensation. “as you wish my love.”
#jungkook x reader#jungkook fluff#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook smut#jungkook x f reader#bts smut#jungkook x female reader#jungkook imagine#jeon jungkook imagines#jungkook x you
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𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞 | 𝐜.𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬
summary: the cowboy hat rule. take a cowboy's hat, you gotta ride the cowboy.
carl grimes x fem!reader
cw: riding, p in v sex, etc
word count: 500
request: Idk if you’re taking requests right now but this popped into my head? Have you ever tried writing Carl with the cowboy hat rule? If not this is definitely a suggestion to try :) (Cowboy hat rule: take someone’s hat and put it on your own head, you have to “ride the cowboy”)
he's gotten on your last nerve.
well, he actually "got on your last nerve" about 2 hours ago, you're just soaking in it.
you sit in the desk chair, tip-toes halting your limp spinning as you stare at your boyfriend again.
you're so bored.
"do-"
"no."
he answered plainly, flipping to the next page of his comic that stole all his attention. he's sitting on his bed as the perfectly good day wastes away into the night.
you don't even wanna go out anymore, you just want to lay with him, kiss him, but he isn't even giving you a chance!
you sigh as the sticky summer heat slicks your body with every movement, you rest your fist on your cheek as you fantasize about all the things you could do if he'd just listen.
"Carl."
he looked up from his comic, brow twisted in confusion at your almost stern tone as you sit up from the chair that's been melted to you for the past two hours
you lean down to him and swiftly remove his sheriff's hat from his head, placing it onto your own.
you still felt his confusion, but you most certainly got his attention.
"the cowboy rule," you begin
"take the cowboys hat, you gotta ride the cowboy" and with that, he pulls you into him, lips sealed onto one and other as his hands grip your sides, he moves your hips on his own as you grind against him.
you quickly remove your clothes and start to unzip him, he groans with your touch and soon he springs free, pre-cum oozing from his tip as you stroke him a couple of times
you scoot up to him as you line yourself with him, sliding his cock in as you lean yourself closer to him, overwhelmed with pleasure
after adjusting, you begin to roll your hips, pussy clenching onto him as you twitch with the movement. he groans and latched onto your hips as his nails dig into your sides
"carl!" you cried as you fucked yourself with his cock, moving up and down as the cowboy hat on your head threatened to fall. with one hand you held it on tight as you leaned down to kiss him, feeling yourself bubble up with pleasure
his cock bullied its way through your insides with every movement you made, tip poking your cervix as he thrust up with you.
you felt your pussy ache as his dick stretched you out even more, soon letting out a broken moan as you came, he sped up his movements as he groaned and confessed he was close, soon shooting his cum inside of you
you leaned into his body as he wrapped his arms around you, breathing not slowing as he lets out a chuckle, and you feel the hat get snatched from your head
he places it back onto his as his brown locks feel empty without it, you grin up at him, successfully stealing his attention and placing it on you.
an: hii guys! I missed you guys so much! I hope you guys enjoyed this even though it's short, btw, whoever anon is...I love love loved this request!! thank you so much!! <33
#carl grimes#carl grimes x reader#twd#the walking dead#the walking dead fanfiction#carl grimes imagine#thewalkingdead imagines#carl grimes fanfiction#twd carl grimes#carl grimes smut#carl grimes oneshot#chandler riggs#carl twd#twd carl#thewalkingdead oneshots#thewalkingdead#the walking dead fanfic#the walking dead roleplay#the walking dead comics#the walking dead rp#the walking dead x reader#the walking dead x you#the walking dead imagine#carl x reader smut#carl x reader#carl x you#twd fanfiction#twd imagine#twd smut#twd x reader
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What an odd request.
Pairing: fem!reader x Seungcheol
Wc. 1.8k
Summary: You ask Seungcheol if you can ride his thighs lol
Warnings: smut!, porn no plot, afab reader, pet names, gendered terms, unprotected sex, creampie, thigh riding, squirting, teasing, reference to weight/size (but not actually), reference to Seungcheol teasingly being called “chubby” by members
Author note: First time writing like.. ever,, was just horny at three in the morning lol. Feel free to leave me some suggestions on what to improve on. I also am blind so lmk if there are any errors
—
“Really? Did I just hear that correctly?” Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. “You wanna try doing what..?” he repeats himself as he looks down at you in question with his arm still slung around your shoulder.
“…I want to… try riding your thigh…” you quietly respond, avoiding his eyes as you slouch down into the bed further.
Riding Seungcheol’s thighs was something you've thought about for a while now. Every time you came home to him wearing that same pair of shorts that he always wears, you couldn't help but steal a glance at his bulky thighs.
His friends always teased him for them, calling him chubby, but not you. You liked the fact that he's actually got meat on his bones. You knew that he worked hard in the gym every day to build up his muscles, and obviously, that included his thighs.
“What? I couldn't hear you” Seungcheol says with a grin as he leans forward and turns his head to look you directly in the face.
“I wanna ride your thighs damn it!” you shout back in frustration from his teasing, shocking him a little and causing him to jerk himself back.
“If you really want to then we can try it.” he kisses your cheek, leading into a deeper kiss. His arms shift from over your shoulder to around your waist as you slowly begin to feel up his shirt. You start to feel the bulge forming in his pants after you lower your hand and smile through your kiss. “Strip.”
He obediently listens and removes his tee in one go, pulling his shorts down quickly after. He watches you as you scan his body, slowly lowering your eyes. God, he's just so hot.
There they were. In all their glory. Your main objective. Just the sight of them alone with your constantly running mind was enough to get you wet.
You pull down your panties as you watch him lean back into the bed, waiting patiently for you to mount him.
You smile as you throw a leg over his and begin to move. As soon as you climb on top of him, he lets out a small breath of air. His body shuddered as he felt your weight on his lap. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting out soft moans as he enjoyed the feeling of you grinding against him.
You ground into his thigh slowly, holding yourself up with one hand on the bed. You could already feel how wet you were as you moved, how sensitive you were. I mean, come on. This was a dream come true. Literally.
You run your other hand up your chest, squeezing yourself in pleasure before locking eyes with his bulge, widening your eyes as you reach down for him.
The moment you grabbed his crotch, he immediately let out a gasp. A pure look of bliss came across his face as he arched his back off the bed, pushing himself closer toward you.
It looks like you weren't the only one wet. You could see the small stain of precum forming on his boxers. You shove your hand down them to grab his cock, leading it over his stained fabric.
You watch as his cock rises and he begins to turn red. He felt so powerless with your eyes watching him closely like daggers. I mean, you were on top of him with his cock in hand. There was nothing he could do. He bit down on his lip at the thought of what you might do to him next.
“Flex your thighs for me so I can rub against them,” you instruct him. Instantly, he lifted his thighs to make it easier for you to rub your pussy onto him. He grunted as he felt your heat surrounding his cock, causing it to pulse with excitement.
You continued humping him and grinding against his thighs, sending waves of pleasure throughout his body with every movement. You moaned as you glided your folds over the firmness of his muscles.
He let out another loud moan as he felt your hand begin jerking him off. The sound of your voice sent chills down his spine as he struggled to stay conscious. The view of you on top of him was just too much to handle.
You jerked at him faster, the sudden increase in speed causing him to gasp loudly. You knew exactly which buttons to push to make him lose control completely. It seemed like every time he thought he had reached his peak, something new would happen that pushed him even further toward orgasmic bliss.
Your body shuttered from the sensation of running over his muscles, retracting your body in as you hit your parts of pleasure, gripping his cock tighter every time it happened.
His breathing became heavier again as he looked up at you. His face displayed signs of embarrassment and shame yet also excitement and anticipation. After a few seconds, he closed his eyes tightly and let out a deep sigh. "Oh gosh…this is so weird...but please don't stop..."
You jerked at him even faster than before after a quick moment of slowing down. As soon as you began to move faster, he opened his eyes wide once more. The look of shock and surprise mixed with lustful desire on his face made him look incredibly vulnerable and helpless towards you right now. He didn't know if he should be happy or embarrassed by how turned on he was becoming.
“Do you wanna cum?” you ask with a grin, already knowing his answer. He eagerly nodded his head and plead “P-please help me cum.. Please let me cum.”
He groaned loudly as your movements intensified. His entire body tensed up and his grip tightened around the bed even further.
As he felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge, he could barely hold back anymore. "I'm… going to...cum!" he shouted desperately, hoping that you would allow him.
“What about you do it inside me?” you asked him, taking a second for him to process what you had just said. He hesitated for just a moment longer. "...What are you saying? Would y-you really let me?” he asks with a shaking voice.
He couldn't believe what he had just heard. While he found the act incredibly arousing, the two of you have only ever used protection in the past.
As you got up and slowly lowered yourself onto his cock, he could feel his entire body tense up again. Despite being incredibly turned on, the fact that he was now inside you bare made his stomach drop. It was a new feeling he had never felt before.
His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, which only served to make him seem even more nervous. “…Is this really okay with you?" He asked quietly, unsure if he should continue or not.
You begin to bounce up and down on him, responding to his question with your actions. He let out another long moan as you bounced. The sensation of being inside you was unbelievable and he could already tell that he wouldn't be able to last much longer without climaxing.
You fasten your pace, tightening your pussy around him, causing him to roll his eyes back as he continued to let out soft moans. “Cum for me,” you demand as you observe his state.
Without hesitation, he let out a loud grunt as he came violently inside of you. The feeling of release was beyond belief and he couldn't help but release a quiet moan as he continued to pump his load inside of you.
You got off of him and laid beside him as you continued to play with yourself, rubbing his cum all over your filled pussy.
His breathing slowed down as he looked at you. A small smile formed across his lips as he saw how eager you were. "Thank you..." he whispered softly into your ear, stroking your cheek gently as you twitched from the feeling of his breath on you.
You smirk as you get back up and over him. You spread your folds apart and lower yourself into him once more, this time using his cum as lube.
He watched silently as you rode him again, letting out a low chuckle as he saw how easily you slipped onto his shaft once more. "Oh? Again? You're enjoying yourself too much." He teased, smirking at you playfully as he ran his fingers through your hair.
His eyes widened as you moved faster, almost like you were trying to outrun him. He let out a soft moan before grabbing your hips, his face contorting as he brought you closer to him, feeling your pussy rubbing against his cock in perfect synchronization. "Mmm…just like that.”
“Aren’t you tired? You just came.” you raised your eyebrows, surprised by his actions. You could feel his cock reach even deeper inside you now since he pulled you down closer to him.
A slight smirk appeared on his face as he shook his head slowly. "I'm not done yet... Not until we both reach our peak together." He said calmly, looking deep into your eyes with confidence. "Just keep going, sweetheart…Keep riding me like this..."
Taken aback by his words, you began bouncing once more. Hearing him say that to you made you even hornier than before. Your heart beat faster and you began to gain more energy in your movements.
As you moved on top of him, Seungcheol began moaning louder than before. It seemed like every time you would go up, he'd push himself deeper inside of you. Your breasts bounced wildly each time you went up, making sure they stayed covered by your shirt throughout the whole process.
The moment was finally here. With one final thrust, he slammed his cock fully inside of you, causing it to hit your womb hard. The two of you moaned loudly as you reached climax.
With a loud groan, he shot his second load deep into you. His entire body trembled as he released his warm seed in you, filling you with his hot cum.
Your legs shook as you squirted on him, letting a deep breath out as you made your final movements with your eyes closed and head thrown back, arching as you shook.
After you both released, he pulled back slightly so only half of his length remained inside of you. As soon as he did this, he grabbed onto your waist firmly once again, pulling you closer toward him while still lying flat on the bed. "Good girl..."
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