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1-800-c3dr1c · 5 months

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GIRL I NEED A SMUT OF CORIOLANUS SNOW BUT LIKE IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN BUT A SEX POLLENNNNN

YOUNG! CORIOLANUS SMUT ONESHOT.

submissive! reader. dominant! coriolanus snow. female reader. reader is shorter than coriolanus. established relationship (boyfriend and girlfriend). aphrodisiac used in drink unwillingly (reader getting drugged because of it). consent (but technically not because the reader’s under a drug?? ..would’ve consented even if not under a drug). fingering. unprotected sex. mean! coriolanus snow (if you squint). overstimulation. ANOTHER WARNING, NSFW IS AHEAD.

requests are: open! please look at the pinned post for characters i will write for. <3 let me know if you’d like to be in my tag list for whenever i post anything related to young! coriolanus snow under this post as well, or in my inbox!

i hope you like this, anon!! i did change it up slightly, so that it’s an aphrodisiac instead! i hope that you like it, but if you don’t, i can of course rewrite it to fit the request completely! <3

word count: 2,431

your boyfriend, coriolanus snow, was stressed. you could tell, even by the slightest of things. the pull of his eyebrows going downward, or the small crease of a frown on his mouth. you knew.

you wished you could help him, you really did. and at times, you’d pipe up and ask if he wanted help. disappointingly, he always denied your offer to help him, brushing you off while trying to sound nonchalant about it, letting you know that he could deal with it all by himself.

your boyfriend was a terrible liar, but you chose not to press on whenever he’d deny you of your help. however, it had startled you quite a bit when he had come into your room, a steaming cup of your favorite tea clasped in his hands.

“hello, darling.” he said softly, kissing your cheek and setting the cup down beside you. “i made you some tea.”

“oh! thank you, corio.” you turned to him, a bright smile on your face. “do you need help with anything?”

“no, i’m quite alright. thank you, though.” he lifted a hand to ruffle your hair, smiling back at you.

you found his actions genuinely surprising. he was never one for affection, especially due to how busy he always seemed to be. the problem was, you had no idea how he had gotten so much supposed free time. first he’d made you tea, and he was even talking with you?

“are you going back to work?” your voice was soft as you asked the question.

“hm? no, i have a few hours to spare. i finished what was most important, the rest can wait.” he told you, watching you pick up the cup of tea, softly blow on it, and then drink some of it.

you didn’t pay attention, but if you had, you’d notice that a slight smirk had formed on coriolanus’ face. he was up to something.

“..is something wrong?” you asked, noticing him staring at you.

“mm? nothing’s wrong, love. everything is fine, no need to worry.” he assured you, his head tilting just slightly as you continued to sip the tea. perfect. that’s exactly what he wanted.

“whatever you say, corio.” you shrugged, unbothered by it. after all, he usually kept to himself, and you knew that. it was fine with you, he would tell you if something was wrong when he was ready, and if there wasn’t? that was even better.

he simply put his hands in his pockets, watching you as if he were waiting for something. but what could he be waiting for? as your gaze wandered to his lips, you asked yourself this question. was he waiting for something from you? if so, you didn’t know what it was.

“are you waiting for something?” your voice was low, way lower than you had expected it to be. however, you figured it may just be sleepiness starting to catch up with you. and yet still, your gaze couldn’t help but linger on his lips. how peculiar, but it wasn’t very uncommon for that to happen, so you thought nothing of it.

“mm.. no. i’m not waiting for anything. i was hoping i could spend some time with you, though.” he sounded calm, way calmer than you’d thought he’d be. he seemed so sure of himself, as he always did. but for some reason this felt different. he carried himself slightly differently, as if he was on top of the world.

maybe he was. maybe he wasn’t. but coriolanus had told you plenty of times. snow lands on top. he had also told you that someday, if you’d ever want it, you’d be a snow, too. his wife. but you two were just getting into university, perhaps after your studies were over. for now, all you could focus on was work.

you had told coriolanus that before. that you weren’t thinking of marriage, or hell, even having children. however, for some.. unknown reason, these thoughts began to fade away. those thoughts became fuzzier, obscuring your thought process and no longer claiming it as your own.

..had coriolanus put something in the tea? no, he wouldn’t. he’d never do that to you. right..?

“corio..?” your voice was quiet, barely even audible to your own ears.

“yes, my love?” he replied, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

you couldn’t think clearly. disregarding your former question, which had been right on the tip of your tongue, waiting for you to ask it, you caught him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to your height and kissing him roughly.

you couldn’t tell, but he was smirking against the surprising kiss, before placing his hands on your waist and pulling you closer. he let out a low groan, a guttural, almost animalistic sound emitting from the back of his throat. “fuck, love.” he murmured against your mouth, his breath catching in his throat.

“i- i’m sorry, corio. i dunno what came over me..” you whispered after having pulled back from the kiss in an attempt to catch your breath.

he didn’t say anything, cupping your cheek. “it’s alright, love. promise, it’s okay. tell me what you want.” he murmured, his lips right beside your ear.

you swallowed thickly. “i need.. need you.” you could barely think clearly now. your head was spinning, your thoughts running miles a minute. frankly, you didn’t quite understand what was going on.

coriolanus snow had put something in your tea. that much was obvious by now, but what? you didn’t know. it could’ve been anything. you were fighting with yourself, knowing that it was a losing battle.

give in, give in, give in. your mind was screaming, and your hands balled into fists as you clutched his shirt. “corio.. please.” you were nearly whining.

“whatever you want, love.” he said quietly, carefully guiding you to your shared bed. despite not being engaged, you two did live together. it was much less expensive, especially with the plinth family paying off nearly all of it for you anyways.

he carefully sat you on the edge of the bed, humming to himself. “what d’you want me to do, darling?” he questioned lowly.

“f- fuck me. please!” you couldn’t keep your hands off of him. frantic, you tangled your fingers in his soft, curly locks of golden hair. he smiled at you, and if your head were clear, you would notice that it was more akin to a smile of which showed that he’d won. as if this was a prize for him, something he’d rightfully deserved.

“sh, shh..” coriolanus soothed you, tracing patterns on the back of your hand with his fingers as he hummed, using his other hand to begin sliding your shirt off of you. “i’m right here, ‘m gonna give you what you need, i promise. alright? just be patient,” it was nearly as if he was mocking you.

he knew that you couldn’t be patient. not in these circumstances. what a fucking tease. you thought it unfair, pouting at him like a child would when they didn’t get what they wanted. “but corio..” you whined out, evidently needy.

“don’t say a word. i’ll take care of you, darling.” he said softly, finally slipping your shirt above your head and smirking at you. “you’re so gorgeous.”

you couldn’t think of a coherent reply to that. your head was fuzzy, and it was obvious that your thoughts only consisted of one thing in its entirety. coriolanus snow.

he busied himself with removing your shorts next, before your hand shot out and caught his wrist. “not fair.. that ‘m gonna be undressed and you’re not.” your voice was quiet, slightly slurring due to what’d he’d put in your tea, which still remained unknown to you.

he laughed, such a startlingly genuine laugh. he hadn’t expected that from you whatsoever. “alright, love. go ahead and off my shirt if you want. unless you want me to do it?” he offered, his tone suddenly seeping with an utterly surprising warmness laced in his words.

“i wanna do it,” you murmured absently, already unbuttoning the shirt. he didn’t say anything, didn’t move away from you. sometimes you’d pause, smiling giddily as you traced one or two patterns on his chest when it was exposed to you. after a few minutes of you fumbling with the buttons, you were able to get the last one unbuttoned.

he helped you this time, and thank goodness he did. you didn’t know if you could handle not being able to feel him. he slipped the shirt off of himself, letting it fall to the floor in a heap behind him. he caught your chin with two fingers, tilting your head up so that your lips met his own in a heated kiss.

this distracted you, making him able to slip off your shorts and underwear without much difficulty. after he’d done so, you shivered at feeling his finger beginning to trace patterns on the inside of your thighs.

“corio, please don’t tease.” you whimpered against his mouth. he smiled at you, as if a kind smile, before carefully slipping one of his fingers past your folds. this allowed for a gasp to escape your lips, and you broke off the kiss, resting your head in the crook of his neck. he used his vacant hand to pull you nearly impossibly closer, that you hadn’t even realized you two could even get any closer until he’d done so.

“tell me how much you need it, darling.” he cooed softly, evidently teasing you with how his tone was. however, this fact slipped past your mind, and you didn’t hesitate.

“need it so badly—need you so badly! corio, please.. please, please, please, please, please..” you whimpered, letting out a squeak when he slipped another finger into you, carefully thrusting them in and out.

if in any other circumstances, you’d be blushing in embarrassment at how lewd the noises of coriolanus thrusting his fingers in and out of your pussy were. this time, it was quite the contrary. you didn’t care, your body trembling as you moaned out, pleading for more.

“need you, need your cock- please!!” you sobbed, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. this felt so good, so so good!

“nuh-uh. ‘m gonna have you come on my fingers first so that you’re ready, mkay? don’t wanna hurt you, y’know.” if you hadn’t known any better, you’d think he actually cared a lot about that. but he’d fucked you plenty of times in the past, this was just his way of teasing. of edging you on, making you beg until he finally decided that he’d fuck you once he thought you’d done good enough for him.

it seemed like your lucky day, however. he seemed just about ready to fuck you, and before you could tell him you were going to come, the feeling of emptiness in your core suddenly fell over you. you gasped, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. “wh.. what was that for?” you choked out, shaking. you needed him! he knew that! why hadn’t he let you come?!

“i think that you’re quite ready, love. i thought you wanted me to fuck you?” he grinned at you, a mischievous grin thar showed he fucking knew what he was doing.

you nodded, desperate. you couldn’t let your orgasm escape you, nor could you even think about not having his cock inside of you. in fact, it was all you could think about. it consumed your mind, leading you to be even more frantic than you had before.

you tried to take of his pants, but he’d already beat you to it. he was teasing you. he was making sure to take his time, slowly slipping off his pants before slipping off his boxers just as slow. it was excruciating, and you whined every time your need for him got even a bit worse.

he leaned over you without warning, pressing his cock against your folds, opening them slightly with his tip, but not pushing in. “tell me if it’s too much, yeah?” he murmured.

you nodded again, unable to speak clearly, and that’s all he needed. with a deep breath, he slowly pushed his cock into you. inch by inch he sunk into you, and it felt like heaven. you let out a moan, and coriolanus groaned out.

he slowly pulled back, keeping his tip inside, before he thrusted back into you at a somewhat faster pace. he continued this until he found a good pace to set for himself, a sheen of sweat adorning his face. he was concentrated, letting out breathy grunts and groans. to shut himself up, he leaned down and bit at your neck, beginning to suck on a specific spot.

you knew what he was doing. he was marking you, creating a hickey on your neck. showing everyone that you were his. you were coriolanus snow’s, and he wanted everyone to know. not that you minded in this state.

you were a moaning mess, sobbing as tears rolled down your cheeks. you were shaking so bad, and to stop you from shaking any harder, he pulled you closer to him, whispering sweet little nothings against your neck from time to time.

over time, his pace became utterly relentless. it was nearly inhumane, and it felt so fucking good. you were panting, chasing the orgasm that he’d denied you of from before, and chasing back the air you’d lost.

“oh, fuck.. oh fuck.” coriolanus gasped into your neck, and you knew what that meant.

he was close, and so were you. “love.. love, please. come with me.” he groaned out, his thrusts becoming sloppier, his pace speeding up to the point where you hadn’t even thought was possible to begin with.

all you could do was nod, shaking as you let out a high-pitched moan, your orgasm crashing over you as stars blurred your vision.

coriolanus didn’t stop, however. he thrusted into you, helping you carry out your orgasm and allowing him to reach his own. with a loud groan, muffled by his mouth pressed against your neck, he came hard, pushing his cum into you.

slowly, your thoughts began to clear up. you could think a bit more clearly, and as he lifted his head to look at you, coriolanus spoke.

“are you alright?” three simple words that formed a commonly asked question, and yet you knew the answer to that.

you were perfectly fine.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #hunger games #ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow smut #corio snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus fanfiction #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x you #coryolanus snow #coryo snow

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halfvalid · 7 months

Text

the blade daughter, pt. 1

ABOUT

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

alternate title: dracule mihawk cures your daddy issues!

rating: mature

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!dracule mihawk | live action!straw hat ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 23.6k total | 8.3k this part

description: as the daughter of dracule mihawk, you've been living alone at home, unwilling to go out and find a life of your own due to the belief that your father needs you around. but when he sends you off to buy him a jacket, you end up running into a pirate crew—and a particular swordsman—that end up changing how you feel.

tags: mihawk's daughter!reader, female reader, canon-typical violence, cursing, no use of 'y/n', pet names per mihawk ('dear', 'darling', 'sweetheart', 'little hawk'), emotional hurt/comfort, sexual harassment (from nameless OC), slow burn

author’s note: finally she's here! i'm posting it spaced out because i don't want to overload you all with a 23.6k fic in one post... IMPORTANT NOTE: i did some research from the animanga for mihawk's personality, weapons, and home, but this is still very much only a fic for OPLA and not the other iterations of the material.

the fic is not exactly only a romance; it focuses a lot on the reader's personal character development along with her relationship with mihawk too. i hope you guys don't mind! i kind of lost the plot lol.

reader is mihawk's biological daughter, but is stated to take after her mother and doesn't bear similarity to mihawk. so the fic is poc reader friendly!

Your dad was late to dinner again.

To be fair, Dracule Mihawk didn’t exactly follow a schedule. He was fickle—back when you’d been a girl, he’d been around all the time, because although he was a lot of things, Mihawk was not an absentee parent. But as you’d grown older, he started being less strict, leaving you alone for days and weeks until you’d finally matured into an adult. Mihawk spent most of his time away from the house, now—but you agreed to have dinner together every week, no matter what part of the ocean he was in.

And he was late.

You’d started cooking the meal early, only for Mihawk to not show up when everything was ready. Or after everything was ready. Or even when everything had cooled, and you’d eaten your fill, and waited in your chair for him to arrive. He finally showed up a quarter past two in the morning, the doors of the dining room bursting open to announce his entrance.

You cracked an eye open from where you’d been dozing in your seat. “You’re late.”

“I’m sorry, darling,” Mihawk said, taking his hat off and bowing with a flourish. He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. “I got a little busy. Garp had me deal with a pirate in the East Blue.”

You made a face at him as he sat down to eat. “Could’ve at least let me know. Den den mushi exist for a reason.”

“Ah, well, my apologies.” Mihawk sighed, dramatic as ever—you couldn’t find it in you to be mad at him for more than a few minutes, though, something he knew well. “It would’ve gone quickly had some upstart not challenged me to a duel. So I had to spend the night.” He tsked, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “And then I went to visit an old friend. Red-haired Shanks.”

“I remember him.” You got up from your seat, moving to the kitchen to rifle in the icebox for a popsicle. “Another duel? What’s this week’s body count?”

“You know I don’t tally such trifling matters, sweetheart,” Mihawk said. You shrugged, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen to watch him start eating. “This pasta is cold.”

“Wasn’t cold four hours ago,” you said, languidly licking at your popsicle. “No sympathy here, dad.”

“Fine,” Mihawk said. “Anyway, I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of the man. Tall, green hair, three swords.” He wrinkled his nose. “Said people called him the Demon.”

“Roronoa Zoro,” you affirmed, slipping into the chair beside your father. “Scariest pirate hunter in the East Blue. You killed him?”

“Clearly not much of a pirate hunter, considering he’s a pirate now,” Mihawk said, the scrape of his knife and fork ringing around the room. “Joined the man I Garp sent me after, this little boy in a straw hat. And no. I let him and his crew go.”

You paused, voice faltering as you registered the words. “You let him live?”

“Yes. He was rather interesting. I expect he’ll come find me later,” Mihawk answered. You stared at him, still baffled. Your father was a lot of things, but a man of mercy was not one of them. Your earliest memory of him exacting his power over others was when you’d been two, watching from your crib as he speared the nanny for calling you a brat. A touching gesture, for certain, but still. “But enough about work. How have you been, little hawk?”

“Bored,” you said with a sigh. “It’s so dull on this island.”

Mihawk looked amused. “You could leave. I’m not restricting you here anymore.” Back in your teen years, Mihawk hadn’t let you leave the house—something about enemies wanting to kill his daughter or whatever else nonsense. He’d trained you personally, though, so you were nearly as fearsome as your father—able to beat anyone in combat in the blink of an eye. “You don’t have to stay.”

“The house would get all dusty,” you protested, lips tugging into a line. And it wasn’t like you hadn’t done any exploring. Mihawk had taken you to all four seas throughout your adolescence, and you’d taken vacations to everywhere of importance. You just—didn’t have much of a point to leave, really. You very much preferred not to, something tying you firmly to the island, to your castle. “And besides, where would I even go?”

“I hear the East Blue is interesting this time of year,” Mihawk said. “You could venture around here, but…” He shrugged. “The Grand Line is dangerous.”

You made a face. “I’ve lived here my entire life. I can take care of myself.”

“Certainly,” Mihawk agreed easily. “But it’s simply not worth it. You really should get out more, dear. It’s not good for your health.”

“Maybe,” you said, but you weren’t very enthusiastic about it. “Here, I’ll clean Yoru for you while you finish eating.” You moved around the back of his chair, lifting his sword off the jacket he hadn’t bothered to shed from his back. You grimaced upon seeing a line of dried blood along the blade. “Dad.”

“Sorry, dear,” Mihawk said, and you rolled your eyes, carrying the sword over to the living room. You set Yoru down with a heavy thud, pulling out a box of materials. Mihawk came over to watch you, one arm propped against the doorway as his aureate eyes gazed down as you worked.

Compared to your dad, you looked relatively normal. You’d always taken after your mother—a mysterious woman you barely had any memories of—and the relation between the two of you was never immediately obvious. The fact your eyes were plainly normal instead of bearing the golden hawk eyes Mihawk had was another factor added to that, too.

You pulled out a bottle of oil, pouring it generously over Yoru’s blade before grabbing a cloth to carefully wipe it with. “Where in the East Blue?” you asked abruptly, not looking up. Mihawk’s fork clinked along the ceramic of his bowl, presumably surprised you’d actually consider the offer of leaving.

“Well, I could send you out to run some errands if you wish. I’ve got some things to attend to,” Mihawk optioned. “There’s this one store in Loguetown with a rather nice jacket I’ve had my eye on.”

You shot him a disbelieving look. “You want me to go to the East Blue to buy you a jacket.”

Mihawk shrugged. “My birthday’s coming up.”

“No, it’s not.” You slid your rag along the edge of Yoru’s blade, folding it in half before wiping the entire thing again to ensure there was no grime left. “Finished. Maybe I’ll just stay—”

Mihawk gave you a look.

“Fine. Loguetown it is,” you said with a sigh. “Don’t give me a crew. I’ll just take one of the sloops. I’ll get your dumb jacket for you.” You got up, tossing the cloth over a shoulder to hand wash later. “I’ll leave later today.”

Mihawk clicked his tongue. “You’re so enthusiastic, darling. I can practically see the excitement oozing off of you.”

You rolled your eyes, moving past him to go up to your room. “Short trip,” you said. “No more than a couple of days.”

“The little hawk, so incited to leave the nest.”

“Shut up.”

Mihawk had complied with your wishes, as when you woke up the next morning, he had already prepared a sloop for you to board alone. You packed some of your things, not being too fussy about the clothing or other objects, knowing that the boat was already well-stocked on its own. Mihawk waited to send you off, though you knew he probably had affairs to attend to by now.

“Be good, darling,” he said, while you were loading up the last of your stuff. Just like your father, you preferred to wear your sword on your back; a present he’d given you at the age of thirteen. “I’ll call you. I’ve got business in the South Blue.”

“Have fun,” you said, and he kissed the back of your hand before pushing you off.

Loguetown was just how you’d remembered it, buzzing with civilians and pirates alike. The stores were plentiful, and filled to the brim with customers—it was all a little overwhelming compared to the peace and quiet you were used to. Still, it wasn’t a bad place to stay for a few weeks, and you might as well take your time there.

You slung your coat on as you exited the docks, glancing around the town in search of something to do first. Since you weren’t especially interested in retrieving a jacket for your father just yet, you beelined to the nearest tavern to grab something to eat. It was a lot easier traveling without Mihawk at your side—as much as you loved him, he had the habit of attracting both trouble and fear wherever he went, and he was near impossible to go out with.

The tavern was full, but not too crowded, and you managed to slip over to the bar without much trouble. It seemed to mostly consist of pirates—rough men with flowing jackets and holsters of guns and swords at their hip, clustered together in groupings that clearly proved their alliances with each other. You were one of the only patrons who was alone.

You gestured for the barkeep, and she bustled over from where she was serving a particularly ragtag group of pirates. They were mismatched, colors oddly paired—a girl with neon orange hair, a short man with a straw hat, one wearing a flowery shirt and goggles and the last man dressed in clothes far too formal for a bar. “What can I get for you?” she asked, a thick brogue dragging down her words.

You told her your drink order, still eyeing the group. The barkeep followed your vision and let out a sigh. “Don’t bother. Three men have already tried to capture him for the bounty. Broke half my furniture. And we got a rule here, anyway—no fightin’.”

“Does he have a bounty?” you asked with a frown. She scoffed.

“Does he ever. Thirty million berry, child. Highest in the East Blue.” She shook her head. “That crew won’t let anyone touch ‘im. Hell, I think his first mate’s still outside cleaning up the bodies.” She sighed again. “Well, I’ll have that drink out for you in a moment.”

You nodded, slipping into the closest available chair. Now that you were paying attention, you could see practically every pair of eyes fixed on the group—specifically, on the man in the center wearing the straw hat.

Before you could ask another question, the door to the tavern opened, and a lean, green-haired man filled the doorway. You glanced over at the barkeep, a flash of recognition in your eyes. “That’s Roronoa Zoro.”

“Aye,” she said, setting your drink in front of you. “If there’s someone who might be able to cash in that bounty, it’d be him. But believe it or not, he’s with the Straw Hat.”

You watched as the pirate hunter made his way to the table the others sat at. The glint of his famed three earrings reflected off the tavern lights, and the sword on his hip swayed as he walked—but there was only one rather than the three you’d heard tales about. “Yeah, my father said something of the sort.”

The barkeep hummed, turning to attend to a pirate who’d taken a seat at your left. “And who’s your father, lass?”

“Dracule Mihawk.”

The pirate beside you raised his head, turning towards you in almost alarm. Beside him, his crew quieted, and the barkeep glanced up to meet your eyes. “Dracule Mihawk?” she repeated incredulously.

“He sent me to buy him a coat,” you said. “I don’t suppose you know where any shops are around here?”

“Er, there’s a shop off main you might want to see,” the barkeep said, eyes flickering over to the pirate crew that had changed their focus to you. “Anything else for you, then?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you said, taking another sip of your drink. She nodded, leaving the bar in favor of moving over to another table. The pirate beside you turned slowly, stool scraping against the floor as he sneered down at you.

“Dracule Mihawk’s daughter, eh?” he asked. “Care if I buy you a drink?” Behind him, the rest of his crew tittered. You just sighed.

“Sorry, my father doesn’t let me go out with anyone who hasn’t bested me in combat.” You knocked back the rest of your drink, glancing up and down the pirate’s figure. He didn’t look like much—two pistols strapped to the hip, a longsword on the other, a raggedy leather jacket with a hat to match.

The pirate scoffed. “Please,” he said, though you could see his skin turning rapidly crimson. “I doubt you’re even related to him. No hawk eyes or nothing.”

You met his gaze, lips tightening into a line. “I take after my mother.”

“Biggest lie I ever heard, aye, crew?” The pirate turned back towards the rest of his men, and they cheered in agreement. You huffed out a sigh, trying your very best not to turn combative—despite everything, you were proud of your relationship with your father, and anyone trying to call you a liar for your lineage just left you vexed and angry. Before you could step away, though, the pirate turned towards the rest of the tavern, apparently having had a bit too much liquor. He raised his voice, practically yelling now. “Oi! This girl thinks she’s the daughter of Dracule Mihawk!”

Out of your peripheral vision, you saw Roronoa Zoro look up, the rest of his crew glancing over at you at the words. You were distracted within a second, the pirate shoving your arm. “Hey, don’t look away, girl. I’m trying to—”

You grabbed onto his wrist, nails razor-sharp as they embedded into his skin. “Don’t touch me.”

“Oh, you think you’re tough, do you?” The pirate yanked his hand out of your grip. “Did your daddy teach you how to fight, huh? Think you can beat me?”

“I know I can beat you,” you answered. The pirate reached for his sword, then, fingers tightening around the hilt.

“Alright, let’s make it a bet then. You beat me, I believe your claim about being Mihawk’s daughter.” His lips curled back into an ugly sneer, and you debated stepping out of the conversation and just going off to find that shop for your dad’s coat anyway. Fights like these were never worth getting into, and you really didn’t want to break any more of the barkeep’s furniture after she’d let out her annoyances to you.

Before you could, though, the pirate opened his big mouth once again.

“I beat you, and you go to bed with me.”

You were whipping your sword out before you could even think, red flashing in your vision as you scraped your blade out from the holster on your back. The metal gleamed under the lights, white steel bright as day as you leveled it in your hand. It wasn’t the largest weapon, a perfectly balanced cut-and-thrust spadroon with a golden hilt wrapped in white ribbon. You tightened your grip on the handle.

“I beat you,” you hissed, voice low, “and you’re dead.”

He lunged for you, pulling his sword out in one solid stroke and meeting yours in a loud clang. You shot an apologetic look towards the barkeep, spinning on your back leg and kicking the pirate away. The force caused him to stumble, sword skittering to the side as you shoved it off your blade.

One of his crew members had cocked a gun to your head, and you spun your swords toward him, blade cutting through the metal like it was butter. The rest of the crew stepped back, one or two of them lunging for you. You parried all of their attacks, shoving them to the ground until they stopped trying to fight.

The captain had gotten up, a fierce snarl upon his face as you slammed your blade down towards him. He blocked it with his sword, and then went for various attacks towards your figure—you dodged each one of them, parrying them easily as you moved backwards. At the last one, you used your weight to buck the sword back in his direction, and he stumbled again.

You ducked down, sweeping him off his feet with a well-aimed kick to his shins, and he fell, sword clattering out of reach as he dropped flat on his back. You towered over him, pointing the edge of your blade at his throat.

“You want me to go outside to kill him?” you asked. The barkeep sighed.

“If you don’t mind, lass.”

“Not at all.” You bent over, grabbing firmly onto the pirate’s shirt and yanking him upwards. His crew made a move towards you, but you just shoved your sword in their direction, and they stepped away. You spun your sword’s hilt around in your hand with a flourish, then started dragging the captain out the tavern door.

“No—wait—let me go,” the pirate begged, once you dropped him to the gravel outside and moved your sword to his throat again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t mean it—you’re a pretty girl, that’s all—”

“I don’t date men who can’t beat me in combat,” you said coolly. “Lower your expectations.” With that, you spun your sword again, sliding it back on the holster of your jacket. “I’ll let you live just this once. If you ever make any comments towards a woman again—”

“I get it. I’m sorry,” the man said, scrambling to his feet. You just eyed him.

“I need another drink.”

The tavern was dead silent when you returned to your seat, gingerly sitting back down on the stool you’d first occupied. “Another drink, if you don’t mind,” you said to the barkeep, and she nodded. A moment passed as she filled your mug, and then she asked—

“Is Dracule Mihawk really your father?”

“Unfortunately,” you muttered, taking the drink she offered and taking a swig. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the Straw Hat pirate and his crew muttering amongst themselves. One of them nudged Roronoa Zoro in the side, and he grimaced, the loose shirt he wore parting with the motion. You caught a glimpse of bandages, wound tight with blood seeping through a familiar line. Yoru’s doing.

Zoro stood up, making his way over to the bar beside you. He propped his elbows on the table, but he didn’t sit, nodding at the barkeep. “Another round for my friends,” he said. His voice was quieter than you’d expected; a low mutter and almost soft in timbre. He glanced over at you, eyes flickering down and up again before he spoke. “I tried to kill your father.”

“Yeah, he told me,” you said. “Roronoa Zoro. What happened to your other two swords?”

Zoro scoffed. “Your dad.”

“He can be a little dramatic sometimes,” you said apologetically. He glanced over you again.

“You don’t look much like him.” He paused. “Figured I’d know if Mihawk had a daughter.”

“I take after my mother, and he’s very overprotective,” you said, getting just the slightest bit annoyed about everyone questioning your parentage. The barkeep returned then, sliding five beers across the table over to Zoro, and you stood up. “Now if you’d excuse me, I have some shopping to do.”

You exited the tavern after paying your tab, wandering around the streets of Loguetown to find the closest clothing store. Your father’s style was ridiculously grand, so it’d be something in the nicer branch of the city—you had just entered your best guess when you pulled out a shell phone, pushing the little snail into your ear and calling your father’s number.

He picked up on the first ring. “What is it, darling?”

“Did you have a specific coat in mind?” You glanced through a row of black leather, trying to find one that’d match Mihawk’s liking. “I’m at this place called Lady Tide’s Dressing Boutique. It’s the bougiest place I could find.”

“Lady Tide’s would be correct,” Mihawk said. “I trust your taste. Pick something I’d like.”

“You better be paying me back for this,” you threatened, turning the corner as you spoke. You jumped back in surprise, letting out a squeak as the Straw Hat pirate from before appeared right in front of you, a grin stretching up his face.

Mihawk’s laugh crackled through the line at your surprise. “Get startled, dear?”

“The pirate Garp sent you after is stalking me,” you deadpanned. The Straw Hat pirate’s grin only widened. “I’ll call you back.”

You hung up, taking the den den mushi out of your ear and back into its case. “What?”

“You’re a really good fighter,” the Straw Hat said brightly. “I’m Monkey D. Luffy, and I’m going to be King of the Pirates. You should think about joining my crew!”

“I—” you stared at him in disbelief, mind reeling from the whiplash of his words. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m not a pirate.”

Luffy tilted his head to the side in question. “But your dad is Mihawk.”

“That doesn’t make me a pirate. I just stay at home for the most part,” you said. Luffy continued following you around the store, however, even as you stepped past him to browse more jackets. You glimpsed the rest of his crew hanging around the store, though none seemed to do any actual shopping. You figured Lady Tide’s was probably out of their price range. “Why are you still following me?”

“I think you should join my crew,” Luffy repeated. “Have you ever been to the Grand Line? That’s where we’re headed next.”

You gave him a look. “I live in the Grand Line.”

“Whoa,” Luffy breathed. “Well, you must know all about it, then!”

You turned away from him, picking a jacket off the rack in front of you and appraising it. Golden buttons, long tailcoat, wide lapels—not really Mihawk’s taste. You set it back. “Not really,” you finally answered. “Like I said, I stay at home for the most part. Haven’t done much exploring.”

“Don’t you want to?” Luffy asked, taking a step closer to you. You flinched. “Your dad’s one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea! You should be going out and adventuring, not just staying at home and doing whatever Mihawk tells you to!”

“Don’t,” you snapped, voice low. “I stay home because I want to. Not because my dad forces me to.” Your words bore no lie, but still, there was a rumble of uncertainty deep in your gut. Mihawk had always been supportive, but pirating had always been his thing. You preferred the solace of your own home, and there was no point in adventuring when Mihawk had seen it all before.

“I’m just saying, what do you even do all day?” Luffy asked with a quirk of the lip. “Stay home and clean? Go out once in a while to buy groceries or get stuff for your dad?” He gestured at the coat you were holding, and you flushed, shoving it back onto the rack. “Isn’t it boring? Don’t you want more than such an average life?”

“I’m perfectly happy with my life right now, thank you,” you snapped. “Go preach to someone else.”

Luffy had stopped walking, then, looking at you with an almost sympathetic expression on his face. “Living isn’t the same as thriving, you know,” he said. “You should go out. Find adventure. Aren’t there things you want to know? Questions you want answered?”

“Luffy.” You turned to see Roronoa Zoro move to his captain’s side, head dipping as he spoke to him. His tone was quiet, but you could still overhear— “Leave her alone. We’ve got business.”

Luffy looked dejected at that, but he agreed, bowing his head towards you before turning to the rest of his crew. They’d gathered by the mouth of the store, engaged in their own various activities as they waited. You watched Luffy turn to leave, words climbing up your throat even as you tried to swallow them down. “Wait!”

Luffy turned, that bright smile reappearing on his face. “What?”

“I want to know one thing,” you said, taking a step closer to the captain and his first mate. You glanced up at Zoro, who met your gaze. His face seemed carved of steel, skin bearing no grimace, eyes betraying nothing. “Why did my father let you live?”

Zoro looked away, and you realized he probably didn’t know the answer himself. Before you could speak again, though, Luffy interrupted.

“Because Zoro’s the best,” he declared, capturing your attention away from the injured swordsman. He slapped Zoro’s bicep with a heavy thud, and you were surprised when the other man didn’t even flinch. “And he’s gonna be better than Mihawk one day. He’s going to defeat him in a duel and take his title and become—”

“The world’s greatest swordsman,” Zoro finished. The words were muttered under his breath, clearly to himself rather than intending for you to hear.

You watched them for a moment before finally turning away. “Okay,” you said. “Good luck with that.”

Luffy stared at you for a moment longer, but Zoro was already turning away and walking towards the rest of the crew. There was an unsettling feeling in your gut, one you tried to squash. Whatever—you had better things to do than worry about some Straw Hat pirate and a retired pirate hunter.

You returned to your browsing, looking through various jacket designs until you finally fell across one you were certain your father liked. It was ridiculously expensive, but your father’s taste had always been so—you purchased it without a second thought, slinging it across a shoulder and returning to your sloop for the rest of the day.

To your great disappointment, the Straw Hat pirate’s words continued to echo throughout your head. His demeanor was off-putting, to say the least—the extreme amounts of candor and cheeriness he had made for a disorienting combination. Even as you tried to stop thinking about his terrifyingly honest words, you couldn’t. Don’t you want more than such an average life?

You sighed, mood irritable from the day's events. You’d returned to your sloop and hadn’t done much of anything for a few hours—past having a meal and cleaning up your boat, there was nothing to do. You mulled over your options, wondering if you shouldn’t just start the journey back home. But Luffy’s words came back to you.

“I need a drink,” you muttered, donning your coat and leaving to attend the first bar you could find.

You went someplace ritzy this time, near the peak of Loguetown where neon lights glimmered in the dark hour. It was crowded, and music blasted through the bar, pounding bass nearly making the floor reverberate. You slipped inside without much trouble, squeezing through the crowd and making way for the bar at the other end of the room.

You bought yourself a drink, knocking it back in just a few gulps. There were marines patrolling around in the building, although none of them seemed too keen on completing any of their duties. Pirates walked around freely too, but these ones were more dignified than the ones you’d seen in the tavern at town.

“You hear Straw Hat Luffy’s here at Loguetown right now?” someone muttered to your right. You glanced over with a furtive gaze to see who was speaking—two men, dressed in fine silks and coats. Swords dangled from their hips. Pirates, maybe, or pirate hunters. “His ship’s docked over by south port.”

“You’re not going to try and nab him, are you?” the other pirate hunter asked, fingers pinched around a thin glass of something. “That bounty’s hefty, but fighting them’ll be…”

“I’m getting a bunch of hunters together,” the first one said. “We’ll split the bounty. At midnight, once the whole crew’s asleep. I followed the navigator; seems they’re not leaving until the morning.”

“Thirty million split between many isn’t much.”

“Well.” The hunter made a vague gesture, a smirk playing at his lips. “I doubt we’ll all be alive by the end of the night, if you know what I mean.”

“Right.” The second hunter downed the rest of his drink. “I’ll be there. Where’s the rendezvous point?”

“Slip forty at south port. Come at midnight,” the first one replied. “My boat. Theirs is at fifty-two.”

You turned away, knocking back the last of your drink before setting the glass back down on the counter. Your mind reeled, and you pulled out a pocket watch to check the time. Nearly eleven. Only an hour left.

“Another drink,” you called, but you stopped after that one. Logically, you knew the Straw Hat crew would be able to handle themselves. Your father wouldn’t have let Zoro go had he not been an impressive fighter—and Luffy certainly had to have some tricks up his sleeve, having such a high bounty and all. But an ambush was an ambush.

You needed to go home.

You paid your bill and slunk outside, taking the long road down to the port. You were docked in the east, but you found yourself wandering towards south port, hands shoved in your pockets and sword heavy on your back.

There was no logical reason to get involved with pirates, you tried to tell yourself. That was Dracule Mihawk’s area of expertise. That was Dracule Mihawk’s life. Not his daughter’s. You were not a pirate—there was no point in being one. Mihawk has done everything already.

You stepped onto the pier of south port, the wooden ramp trembling under your feet. They were shoddily constructed; oak on water, with pegs every few feet or so and ropes thrown casually across the walkways. It was overcrowded with boats, too—ships of every kind and size, smushed into spots not big enough for them depending on how much you paid the dock men. The moon shimmered on the surface of the East Blue. She was calm today, waves lapping at the edges of the docks, tranquil in the night.

You checked your watch again. Nearly midnight.

Dock forty moored a relatively small ship, but it was crowded with men—ten or fifteen, maybe, and you knew they’d be killing each other when the fight was through. Thirty million berry divided between so many people was barely worth it. You slunk past them, counting the numbers of the boat berths.

You knew the boat before you looked at the slip number based on appearance alone. It was large in size, a caravel sporting a gigantic goat figurehead. You stared at it, brows furrowed, jaw slack. Well, it was certainly a ship. There was a large sail boasting the ship’s jolly roger—a crudely designed skull and crossbones sporting the same straw hat their captain wore.

With a sigh, you pulled yourself onboard, careful to not make a sound as you landed on the deck. It was quiet, but you doubted the crew didn’t have at least one lookout for trouble. You tiptoed around the mast, moving towards the foredeck.

You were just about to step a foot on the staircase when a gleaming katana came to your throat.

“What are you doing here?”

Roronoa Zoro was as calm as ever as he held a blade to your jugular, posture perfectly straight, eyes tilted in your direction. You glanced down at the blade, registering the smooth metal. It was the white-handled one; upon seeing it closer, you could better register its quality. It must’ve been insanely durable, more so than his other blades considering Yoru hadn’t shattered this one in battle—one of the strongest blades in the world.

“What’s the sword’s name?” you asked.

Zoro ignored your question. “What are you doing here?” he repeated.

You sighed, turning towards him, although you were careful not to touch the sword. Zoro’s grip didn’t budge. “There are pirate hunters coming here,” you answered. “At midnight. An ambush.”

Zoro still didn’t move. The night sky cast his entire face in shadow, the only light on board being a trembling lantern by the interior doors. You could just barely see the gleam of one eye, yellow light shining on his cheekbone. “Why would you come?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” you answered coolly. “My father let you go for a reason. It’d be a shame if you died before you realized why.” It was an easy lie—because the real reason was one you didn’t want to think about. Because Luffy’s words struck something in you. Because they rang true.

“We don’t need your protection.”

You shrugged, only one shoulder moving upwards before relaxing again. “Just a friendly warning.”

Carefully, Zoro lowered his blade, the steel scraping along the edge of its scabbard opening before he slid it closed. “The Wado Ichimonji.”

Your eyes were still on the sheathed katana. “Hm?”

“The sword. Its name is Wado Ichimonji.”

You tilted your head back, angling it towards the sword strapped to your jacket. “Hiru,” you said. “That’s mine.”

“Day,” Zoro translated. “You have matching swords with your father?”

“Just matching names,” you answered. “It’s a spadroon, not a kreigsmesser. Much smaller than Yoru. Birthday present. When I was thirteen.”

Zoro eyed you. “I’ll wake the rest of the crew,” he said. “You can go.”

You made no move to, consulting your watch as Zoro rang the ship’s bell. Five minutes to midnight. You could already hear the near-noiseless patter of footsteps on the pier.

The orange-haired woman was the first out, fingers wrapped around a short wooden rod. She exchanged a look with Zoro, and he nodded towards the pier. She somehow knew exactly what he meant from that, dodging back inside the ship and returning, dragging a dark-haired man out.

“Uh, what’s going on?” the man asked, stifling a yawn as he fiddled with a slingshot. Both Zoro and the woman shushed him. “Jeez, okay.” He noticed you then. “Oh, hey, you’re the hawk dude’s kid—”

“Shut up, Usopp,” the woman snapped. She’d moved by the boat’s side, ducked under the rim. The footsteps were getting louder.

The blond man came out next, hands shoved casually in his pockets and dressed in clothes you genuinely did not think functioned as sleepwear. “Hunters,” the orange-haired woman said. “Ambush.”

“Isn’t that lovely,” the blond man murmured. He caught your eye, and a smile lit up his face. “Well, hello there.”

Both Zoro and the woman rolled their eyes. Before the blond could say anything more, though, the hunters’ footsteps abruptly stopped.

The orange-haired woman spun up from her crouch, wooden stick extending into a long staff as she whipped it out. She slammed one end of the staff into an incoming hunter’s gut as he leapt aboard the ship, forcing him off the side of the vessel.

Everything happened all at once, then—you heard the slick shing! of Zoro unsheathing his katana, and the blond was up and running towards another gaggle of hunters within the second, legs flying in an assortment of well-placed kicks.

You reached over your shoulder, tugging Hiru out of its straps. The blade shone bright under the moonlight, and you caught an incoming hunter’s sword with the lick of it, shoving him backwards as you spun.

“Why’s Mihawk’s girl here?” the blond called, as he slid across the deck, leg raising up into a spinning hook. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He met your eyes and winked, leaving you staring in utter disbelief until another hunter distracted you. “I’m Sanji!”

“Okay?” you asked blankly, letting out a huff of exertion as you whipped your sword toward the hunter. He’d pulled out one of his guns, wielding his blade one-handed as he fumbled with the trigger. You breathed in, recalling your father’s words from the thousands of hours spent training. Take advantage of any imbalances, sweetheart. Focus on the center of gravity.

You aimed a sliding kick at the man’s gun, using Hiru to push against his blade. The pressure caused him to fling halfway across the ship, body thudding against the mast before falling to the ground in a heap.

“Impressive,” Sanji whistled from his spot across the ship.

“Shut up,” Zoro and the orange-haired woman said in unison. Zoro was beside the fallen hunter in a second, katana slashing cleanly through his torso before he spun and shoved the blade straight into an incoming man’s stomach. Sanji just scoffed.

“Show-off,” he said accusatively. Zoro rolled his eyes, turning towards Sanji to argue, when you glimpsed someone at his back. You lunged for the man, sword cutting cleanly through his jugular before he fell across the deck, decollated.

Zoro turned, glancing over his shoulder at the body and then up at you. “You’re welcome,” you said, flicking Hiru to the side. Spatters of blood dripped off its blade.

“...Right.” The number of hunters had considerably thinned, only three or four left. The orange-haired woman was still fighting two of them, placing hits of her bo staff along two mens’ skulls. Usopp had crouched by the forecastle, firing pellets off with his slingshot. Sanji dusted off the final two men, until only the ringleader was left.

“Wait, wait.” The hunter backed away until he ran into the ship’s railing. He scrambled for his pistol, but as Zoro, Sanji, and the orange-haired woman advanced on him, apparently realized the idea was in vain. “We—we can talk about this.”

“I don’t think we can.” You turned at the new voice, watching as Luffy slipped out from the captain’s chambers. His hand came up to adjust his hat, crowned atop his head as always. “You came aboard my ship and tried to hurt my friends.”

The hunter’s jaw fell slack, mouth drying over as Luffy came to stand in front of him. The rest of the crew had parted to allow him space, and Luffy titled his head up, the lick of light from the lantern shining against his skin. A crescent-shaped scar under his eye glowed bright, the skin paler than the rest of his face.

“Gum gum…” he started, voice steadily rising in volume as he extended his hand backwards, fingers curled into a fist. To your surprise, his arm just kept stretching back, limb getting longer and longer with a distinctly rubbery stretch until it was all the way at the other side of the ship. “Pistol!”

His arm snapped back all in one, knocking the hunter straight in the jaw and shoving him off the ship in one, devastating blow. You stared at his flailing body, watching as he dropped straight into the ocean ten or so meters away with a loud plop.

You turned towards Luffy, one brow arched in question. “You’re a Devil Fruit eater?”

“The Gum Gum fruit,” Luffy said brightly. He adjusted his hat once more, fixing it atop his head before reaching an arm out to pat you on the shoulder. “Thank you for warning us. You’re a good person.”

“Don’t mention it.” You glanced down at Hiru. “Have anything I can clean my blade with?”

“Sure! Let Sanji cook you something while you’re here,” Luffy said. “It’s the least we can do.”

“Of course,” Sanji said with a little bow. “What would you like? Name anything and I’ll make it.”

You eyed him. “…Anything.”

Sanji let out an exaggerated sigh. “So uninspired. Meet you in the kitchen, then. We can leave the mosshead to clean up the bodies.”

The orange-haired woman just rolled her eyes. “I’m going back to bed,” she declared. She glanced over at you, appraising you in one solid sweep up and down your body. “I’m Nami.”

With that final word, she departed, snapping closed her staff and slipping back into the boat. Luffy, Usopp, and Sanji shuffled into the boat, presumably the kitchen. Zoro just sighed, setting his katana to the side to start cleaning up the corpses left after the battle.

You made no move to follow the others inside, watching as Zoro easily lifted up one of the hunters. The lines of his biceps strained as he climbed off the ship, still hefting the body before finally placing it down on the pier.

“Just toss them into the ocean,” you called. Zoro glanced over his shoulder, registering you standing there. He picked another body up.

“I don’t want to block our slip,” he answered.

“Fair enough. Any oil around here?” You wandered to the ship’s side, glancing through the boxes fixed to the deck. Zoro gestured in some direction that harmed more than it helped, really, but you dug through some boxes before unearthing something you could clean Hiru with.

You worked in silence, slicking the blade with the oil and rubbing off all the blood and mess that had gotten onto it. Zoro was quick, piling up all the corpses and barely-alive bodies by the dock. He shoved a few of them awake with his boot. “Go find a doctor,” you heard him mutter under his breath. You suppressed a laugh.

Eventually, Zoro climbed back on board, searching for his sword only to find it in your hands. You carefully polished off the last of the blade, then presented it to him. “You’re welcome.”

“…Thanks,” Zoro said, sheathing it in one smooth swipe.

“The cut,” you said, glancing down at his torso again. His shirt was covering the bandages, but you knew they were still there. “It was Yoru that did it. Not Kogatana.”

“The big one, yeah,” Zoro answered. You watched him thoughtfully, although you didn’t say a word. He seemed to get impatient by that, and was speaking just a moment afterwards— “Why?”

You gave a quick shake of your head. “Nothing,” you answered, the lie slipping easily off your tongue. But your mind churned with thoughts, the mere brain activity making your stomach curdle. It hadn’t clicked before, but now—your father didn’t use Yoru on anyone who wasn’t worthy. And letting Zoro live—letting the entire crew go, against Garp’s orders?

This was a more interesting group than you’d anticipated.

Zoro eyed you for a moment as you were lost in thought, though he didn’t say anything to interrupt you. Once you finally looked up, he adjusted, clearing his throat. “Should go inside to make sure the waiter isn’t burning down the kitchen,” he said, straightening.

You stood up, sliding Hiru into its scabbard on your back. “The… waiter?”

Zoro shook his head. “Long story.” He gestured with his head, nodding towards the double doors. “Kitchen.”

You followed him, the soft aroma of garlic and meat wafting around the room the instant you stepped foot inside. Everyone was crowded around the kitchen island, propped on chairs and staring as Sanji prepared a meal before them. You joined the group, glancing over Usopp’s shoulder to watch.

There was a stir-fry on the stove, garlic and onions joined by various other vegetables. Sanji drizzled soy sauce along the pan, scraping it around once with his spatula before turning down the heat. He added in some rice—leftover, it looked—along with some battered eggs, mixing it all together.

“Vegetable and chicken fried rice,” Sanji said, turning off the heat once everything had cooked through and starting to distribute it into servings. “I went for something universal because I don’t know what you like.” He met your eyes, flashing a giant, warm smile again. You took the bowl he offered, fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic.

“Thank you,” you said. The four of you stood in silence, and you had the feeling that you were intruding. The crew was a tight unit, that much was certain—wound tightly around each other, ropes intersecting in delicate knots and bows. You turned your attention to your meal. You hadn’t had a real supper, so the food was a welcome surprise, and it was damn near close to the best thing you’d ever tasted.

“So,” Luffy started, “Not to bug you about it a hundred times, but…” You glanced up. His expression was earnest as he met your eyes, lips tugged upwards in an encouraging smile even as he spoke. “Are you joining us?”

“Am I—? Oh,” you said, realizing what it was Luffy was referring to. “Is the offer still standing?”

“Always,” he answered brightly. “You’d be a good fit for our crew, you know.”

Would you really? There wasn’t much of anything special about you besides your parentage. You were as skilled a swordswoman as any, but there were hundreds better and stronger than you. There was no one thing you truly excelled at. “I’ll think about it,” you said hesitantly.

“Well, think quick. We leave at dawn,” Luffy said. “Meet us back here at blue hour if you’d like to join up.” He smiled again, all unassuming, and it was hard to believe a boy so pleasant had a thirty million berry bounty hanging suspended over his head. He yawned, stretching out his long limbs. “Well, I’m off to sleep. Sanji’s next watch.” He glanced over at Zoro. “Why don’t you walk her back to her slip, Zoro?”

Your brows furrowed, about to object, but Zoro was already standing up. He opted to say nothing, leaving you to set down your empty bowl and say your goodbyes in a hurry to follow him out.

The bodies on the pier had thinned, the alive ones presumably having dragged themselves to town to find a doctor. Zoro stepped over the heap of corpses, and you followed suit, walking in silence down south port. “I’m a little far,” you said. “You might lose your way heading back.”

“I’ll be fine,” Zoro dismissed. “I’m… sorry about Luffy. He can get overly enthusiastic.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you said with a shake of your head. “Are the rest of the crew open to me joining, though? It didn’t seem like he consulted any of you.”

Zoro’s brows lifted at that, though you weren’t certain why. “We’re all fine with it,” he said eventually. “Luffy wouldn’t invite someone who wouldn’t fit.” He hesitated, the plod of your footsteps creaking against the dock walkway for a few paces before he parted his lips again. “I’m going to fight Mihawk again, you know.”

“I figured,” you answered. You could feel Zoro’s eyes on you, scraping along your skin like they were blades themselves.

“You’re not upset by that?”

“Everyone wants to kill him for some reason or another,” you said. “You’re not the first.” Though there was something undeniably special about him. The fact he was still alive, for one. “I figure you’re a long way from that, so I’ll have a father for a few years more until you try to kill him again.”

There was something in the way you phrased your words that sounded so very ironic, and Zoro couldn’t suppress the light grunt from escaping his lips. It was dry, brittle—but closer to a laugh than a scoff, you could tell. “Is that your blessing?”

“Sure,” you said. “I, Dracule Mihawk’s daughter, hereby allow you, Roronoa Zoro, to murder my father in a duel.” The lightness in your tone dropped. “If you don’t mind me asking…” you took in a light breath, letting the taste of the words melt on your tongue before slipping them out. “Why do you want to, anyway? Defeat him, I mean?”

“I made a promise to someone a long time ago,” Zoro answered. His footsteps slowed as you reached your slip, the small sloop you’d sailed all the way to Loguetown calm as ever where it was moored. The black sails—vague, nondescript—sucked away all the light the moon attempted to cast on it, so it was even darker than the rest of the surroundings. “I told her I would become the world’s greatest swordsman.”

“That’s heavy,” you remarked, turning to face your companion. His skin was waxy and dull under the moonlight—aftereffects of the injury he still hadn’t fully recovered from. Zoro just shrugged.

“Maybe. It’s my life’s dream.”

“He’s a good father,” you said. “I think he’d like you.” You paused. “Well, he does. He wouldn’t have let you live if he didn’t.”

Zoro stiffened, the lines of his body tightening, spine pulling up just slightly. You noticed the change—you always did. Observation had always been one of your biggest strengths. Maybe you hadn’t gotten the golden irises your father had, but you had hawk eyes of your own in that way. Never missing a thing, picking out all flaws and details in a scene. “I’m not sure if I want him to like me.”

“He doesn’t feel hatred for a lot of people,” you said. “Just disdain. Though I’m fairly certain he’d have skewered that drunk at the bar earlier if he’d been with me.”

“The one who—” Zoro looked distinctly uncomfortable as he remembered what the pirate had offered you. He made a vague gesture instead, just mildly vulgar in motion. You suppressed a laugh.

“Exactly,” you agreed. “He doesn’t have patience for that sort of thing. He also feels no man who’s weaker than me in combat isn’t man enough to be with me, though I have questions about that particular rule.”

Zoro snorted. “You could definitely do better than the drunk pirate.”

“Right.” You glanced up at the moon, watching the steady silver glow of her face along the edge of the horizon. She was full, round and white, soft powder creasing the dents and shadows of her face. “I’m out for the night, then. Thank you for walking me.”

Zoro shrugged. He didn’t say anything, so you turned away, stepping onto your sloop without another word. You ducked into the interior room, closing the door firmly behind you so you could finally relax.

You had only a handful of hours of rest ahead of you, after all.

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

i'll be making a taglist for this series; just comment if you'd like to be added!

#opla zoro #opla roronoa zoro #opla #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #reader insert #x reader #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece live action x you #one piece live action x reader #opla fanfic #opla fanfiction #dracule mihawk #opla zoro x reader #kiki writes!

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flowerandblood · 2 months

Text

The Taste of Desire (AU)

[ dom!modern • Aemond x friend sister • female ]

[ warnings: sex with soft domination, fingering, smut, angst, sexual tension, remorse, doubts related to sex work ]

[ description: Aemond works as a professional dom, fulfilling the various fantasies of his female clients − however, he guards his privacy and does not enter into any relationships with them, recognizing that he does not want or need it. One of his clients surprises him with her behaviour, making him experience something he has never felt before, with his own actions and emotions slipping out of his control. Sexual tension, doubts related to sex work. ]

This oneshot is an alternative universe for my series The Taste of Shame in which Aemond meets the main character as his client. It shows how their lives would have turned out and what their first time would have been like if Aemond had done it for money. Created to celebrate my anniversary on 22 March.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other series: Masterlist

_____

He was never picky when it came to his female clients. They had to meet basic standards like hygiene, no venereal diseases and they couldn't go beyond a certain time, but once they signed a confidentiality clause, what he was going to do with them was no longer important to him.

He kept repeating to himself that he was there for them, not them for him, so he focused on giving them what they wanted in a way that didn't disturb his comfort zone.

He did not allow them to kiss or touch him with their hands − in fact, he preferred that any involvement they had in what was happening was minimal. What he found most pleasing in the whole act was his violence towards them, and the more they consented to, the more he was satisfied.

Their pleas and cries of pain combined with some subconscious pleasure that such sadomasochism gave them made him struggle to hold back the mocking smile that pressed against his lips.

They wanted to be treated like worthless objects, and that's what he was giving them, because that's exactly how he thought of them.

He didn't try to delve into considering what he thought of himself, because he decided that would end up with a visit to a psychiatrist. He was studying quantum physics, lived far away from his family and needed a steady, high source of income − since silly girls could make money from sex cams, he could make money that way, at least until he had no other prospects.

The only way to contact him was through an online form on his website, where they would write why they wanted to meet, indicate what suited them or not, and if he felt he could meet their whims, he would arrange to meet them to discuss the details and sign the documents.

Scrolling through dozens of similar messages about tying, gagging, beating and humiliation he stopped on one where only a few things were marked. He thought surprised that he wouldn't even link them to aggressive domination per se, and certainly not the kind he usually used.

Good morning. I've been thinking a lot lately about what I'd like to try, but I'm also a bit embarrassed about it. I don't know if this can be subsumed under your interests − I'm completely inexperienced, so maybe that's why I'm looking for a professional who knows what he's doing and would be able to show me what I actually need and want. I apologise for the rather chaotic explanation and send my regards. Selected practices: spanking, verbal domination, fingering

He blinked and scratched his chin, both intrigued and uncertain at the same time − he glanced quickly at her age and saw that she was younger than him. He bit his lower lip feeling that something in the idea that she was still inexperienced and only willing to explore her needs attracted him, the thought that this would be some sort of challenge for him.

He decided that why not.

She was an adult.

He looked forward to meeting her with the utmost curiosity. Her requirements were basic enough that he didn't need to prepare any extra kinks, and since she didn't want sex with penetration, it also gave him a greater sense of confidence and peace of mind − he knew he wouldn't have to chase his orgasm, imagining some woman from porn, and would be able to concentrate only on what he was doing to her.

When he heard a quiet knock on the door of the flat he rented only to meet his female clients, he got up immediately from behind his desk and opened it for her, swallowing hard as his gaze involuntarily swept over her figure and stopped on her face.

God.

This was not what he had expected.

She looked even younger than she had written; her eyes were big and bright, looking at him with fear and dread, though usually the women who came to him, learned by experience, kept their gaze meekly on the floor, waiting for him to command them to look at himself.

She was dressed in a plain white Tshirt and high-waisted jeans, a fabric coloured backpack on her back, her hair loose, shiny, dark, slightly wavy − he could smell the fruity scent of her perfume or shower gel.

He grunted quietly, trying to keep a stony face, feeling that involuntarily his gaze expressed shock. He took a few steps back and invited her in − she stepped inside uncertainly, turning away quickly as he closed the door behind her.

"Come in. Do not be afraid." He said lowly, pointing to his desk which stood in the deeper part of the flat − she walked in that direction, looking in horror at the bed standing on the other side of the room.

He heard her swallow hard, tense and red, pulling her backpack off her back − she placed it in her lap immediately after she sat down in the chair opposite him, as if trying to ward off and protect herself from him in this way.

He took his seat on the other side and tapped his index finger on the top of his wooden oak desk, thinking that he had never had a client like her before.

She was completely distracted, her gaze sweeping across the room as if she were a curious child, her fingers tightening on the material of her rucksack.

"As I mentioned, first the contract and confidentiality clause." He said calmly, handing her copies of the contract and clause he had sent her earlier.

She took them from him and looked into his eyes again, making him swallow hard; it wasn't a defiant look and it wasn't meant to seduce him. It seemed to him just the opposite − she wanted to show him that some part of her was genuinely afraid of him.

She nodded, her hands trembling all over as she took the sheets of paper in her hands − she looked around quickly and clumsily grabbed a pen.

He wondered, seeing what was happening to her, if what she wanted was really good for her and although he never meddled in his clients' decisions, he decided to intervene, for her sake and his own.

"You can still resign. I won't burden you with the cost." He said lowly, watching her closely, and saw that she flinched all over. She lifted the gaze of her bright eyes to him, her eyebrows arched in indecision, her mouth opened and closed as if she was trying to get something out of herself.

"I…I think I want to try. This one time. Do you think it's a bad idea, sir?" She asked him in a trembling, soft, girlish voice. The note of innocence that lurked in this after all defiant question made him twist in his seat, feeling surprised that his manhood swelled a little − he felt like he was literally burning her with his gaze.

He thought it was because she was so vulnerable − it turned him on that he was more experienced than her and had real control over what could happen next if she wanted it.

He chuckled involuntarily at her words, shaking his head, sighing quietly, looking at her indulgently.

"What I think about it doesn't matter." He murmured lowly, leaning comfortably against the back of his chair with a loud creak of wood.

He felt heat in his lower abdomen at the thought of her not dropping her gaze, boldly staring him in the face as if they had known each other for a long time, despite the fact that most women knew their buttocks would be red and swollen like tomatoes for such insolence.

"I would, however, like to hear your views on the matter, sir." She replied quickly, as if she recognised him as some sort of authority on the matter, a sexologist or anyone else who could give her a diagnosis.

"I am not a doctor. However, I don't think there is anything wrong with trying under controlled conditions. You also have a safe word that you can use at any time to stop whatever I'm doing. You have to decide." He said finally, and saw her nod her head, drawing in air loudly as if gathering her courage, and leaned over, signing the documents in the spaces indicated.

For some reason he involuntarily licked his lips, dried from some kind of excitement, his cock twitching hard in his trousers at the thought that she was really going to do this.

When she finished he took the papers from her, signed them and gave her one copy, reminding her of all the rules they had agreed and what she could not do.

"You can't touch me or kiss me. When we start, you are to call me sir and follow all my instructions. You are to answer all my questions by shaking or nodding your head unless I order you otherwise. I will not stop even if you beg me or cry until I hear your safe word which, please remind us, sounds how?" He asked softly, stapling the papers she had signed with a stapler, tucking them into his drawer, watching her out of the corner of his eye, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen at the very thought of what he was going to do to her.

Why was he so aroused when he hadn't even touched her yet?

"Peach." She muttered embarrassedly, looking down at her hands.

For a moment he wondered if he should add the rule he usually made where a woman couldn't look him in the eye, but something in her eyes captured him − her gaze wasn't seductive or filled with feelings he didn't want to see. He also guessed that forbidding it might overwhelm her even more, and he didn't want that.

He nodded at her words, rising, and she rose with him, holding her backpack in front of her, her shoulders raised slightly in a defensive gesture, as if she was afraid of him and the fact that she had somehow given him control over her.

He approached her slowly, looking at her vigilantly − her eyes fixed on his face as his hand took the rucksack from her arms in a gentle motion, dropping it next to her on the floor. His fingers rose to her cheeks, trailing over them, her jaw and her chin − he felt her tremble all over, surprised, her swollen, plump lips red with emotion.

Although he had never done this, he wanted to get a good look at her first − he knew that going straight to putting his hand in her panties would only frighten her and in this situation his tactics had to be a tad different.

First and foremost, he wanted to reassure her.

He saw that she had closed her eyes, trying to breathe slowly through her mouth as his hands slid down to her neck and her soft hair. He thought, smelling her fruity scent, that he would have given anything to have her kneel before him and take his achingly hard manhood into her mouth.

He decided that perhaps he would use his thoughts to embolden her a little more and let him do what he wanted.

"Such a sweet girl. You have no idea what I'd like to do with those lips." He hummed, feeling a shiver pass through her as one of his hands rose higher again, to her face, parting her lips with his thumb. "How hard I am now."

He saw the shock in her gaze, which quickly escaped down to the bulge in his trousers, her cheeks flushed as she looked up into his face again, her breathing quickened and ragged.

He sighed involuntarily at the sight.

"You can say a lot of things about me, but not that I'm a liar. Open." He commanded in a slightly cooler, stricter tone, her lips immediately parted slightly, allowing his thumb to slide deep between her fleshy, wet lips.

"Suck." He instructed, a quiet moan caught in her throat, her body suddenly quivering as the fingers of his free hand slid lower to her breast, teasing her nipple in calm, circular motions, her lips tightening around his thumb, obeying his command.

"Do you always walk around without a bra? Hm? Do you like it when men look at them?" He muttered warningly, pulling lightly on her nipple, looking at her curiously − she squirmed helplessly, closing her eyes, not knowing what to do with her hands. He could see how, in some subconscious reflex, she wanted to lift them up and embrace him, but reminded herself that she couldn't do that and lowered them again, moving him in some way and arousing him at the same time.

He couldn't remember if his client had ever made him completely hard by her behaviour itself.

"Quiet. We haven't even started properly yet, and already you want me to slap your arse?" He growled mockingly, and she shook her head quickly, drawing in air loudly, looking at him with a pleading look of her big, bright eyes, which he felt between his thighs as his cock swelled unbearably, demanding attention.

"This is my last warning. Lie on your stomach." He said coldly, although inside he felt like his body was on fire.

She obediently pulled off her shoes and lay down on the bed, watching, embarrassed, as he slipped his thumb, moist with her saliva, between his lips and licked it. He quickly pulled off his sweatshirt and shoes, leaving in his black short-sleeved T-shirt and trousers, fixing his hair with a careless flick of his hand.

"Leave only your panties on." He added, hearing her quiet squeal as his large hand gave her one, light, sharp smack on her buttock, just as an encouragement to keep her going.

"Just like that. So pretty." He hummed, watching her undress, climbing onto the bed behind her. He involuntarily licked his lips and grinned in amusement when he saw that underneath her trousers she was wearing pretty lace panties in powder pink.

He thought she was like a lollipop or candy, a sweet little gift bought just for pure pleasure.

As she pulled off her t-shirt she clung with her breasts to the bedclothes, looking somewhere sideways towards the window as if she was afraid of how exposed she was, that she was lying half-naked in front of a strange man who, on top of that, she was going to have to pay for it.

Although he cursed himself for it in the back of his head, the sincerity and naturalness of her behaviour endeared her to him − he thought in disbelief that he wasn't sure that even if she had asked him to punish her more harshly or to cause her intense pain he would have been able to do it.

Would it give him pleasure.

He took her hair aside, exposing her long neck and back, felt her shudder all over as his fingers ran along her spine.

"Are you going to be good, or should I tie you up?" He murmured and she nodded quickly − he hummed under his breath, stroking her bare skin. "Use your words."

"I'll be good. Sir." She added quickly, hearing him shift suddenly in irritation. He let out a loud breath through his nose, leaning down, grasping her wrists in his hands, placing them on either side of her head, showing her the position he expected her to hold them in.

"Your hands are supposed to be here at all times. On the pillow. If I see you take them away from here, I'll tie you up and on top of that, I'll give you ten slaps on the bottom to make sure you remember this lesson well. Do you understand? Use your words." He hissed, driving his fingers into the skin of her wrists, heard her swallow hard and nod her head quickly.

"− y-yes, sir −"

He gasped softly, pleased with her answer and the way it was going − he saw her hands tighten on the material of the pillow as he settled his knees on either side of her buttocks, lowering himself onto them so that she could feel his cock throbbing all under the material of his trousers. She stifled the cry that wanted to escape her lips by pressing her face against his bedding.

"− do you fucking feel it? − do you feel what you're doing to me? −" He muttered, trying to calm his breathing, not knowing why instead of pulling himself together and concentrating on his task he was teasing her, making his manhood painfully hard − he clamped his eyelids shut when he felt her hips begin to buck uncertainly to the rhythm of his movements.

He decided that fuck it, he would do it the way he felt like it, breaking his own rules, knowing that unlike the other women, she really needed this.

His closeness.

She sighed loudly and her whole body trembled as he pressed his face against her soft, fragrant hair, crushing her with his own weight, his hands roamed over the skin of her bare shoulders and the sides of her waist as his nose slowly slid lower, down to her neck, his fingers slipped underneath her and tightened on her soft, plump breasts as his lips pressed against her bare skin.

He heard her start to pant loudly through her mouth, surprised as he was, surely imagining it differently, writhing beneath him, his fingers digging warningly into the soft skin of her breasts, his hot breath enveloping her ear.

"− lie still or we'll do it rough − spread your thighs −" He growled, his thumbs pressing and playing with her nipples. He spread her legs with his knees, making her breath catch in her throat − he could feel her heart pounding fast under his hands, his tongue ran over the bare skin of her neck, smelling the salty taste of her sweat and the sweet taste of her perfume.

"− you're already wet, hm? − shall we check? −" He sneered, sliding the palms of his one hand down her belly − he saw out of the corner of his eye that her fingers clenched tightly on the fabric of the pillow, her whole body stiffened, her head tilted slightly as his fingertips pushed the soft, soaked material of her underwear aside, sinking into her leaking, fleshy womanhood.

"− good God − look at you − all sticky and warm −" He gasped as his fingers began to tease and squeeze her clit lightly, giving her a few encouraging strokes from which helpless, muffled sounds tried to escape her throat − his hand let go of her breasts for a moment and slapped her buttock with all his might, reminding her that she was supposed to be quiet.

He didn't even notice when he started rubbing against her faster from the top, chasing his own fulfilment, completely aroused by what was happening to her, how she was responding to him.

He felt like his cock was about to explode.

"− moan for me − let me hear these sweet sounds −" He whispered in her ear, driving his fingers harder into the soft, leaking structure of her folds.

Moan for me?

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He sighed when she cried out loudly, clenching her eyes, writhing all under him, again and again rubbing his sore cock with her buttocks. He felt ashamed that even though he was the master of the situation, it seemed to him that somehow it was she who was dictating how it looked, or rather his inability to treat her as he did his other clients.

There was something innocent about her, that her goal was not for him to humiliate her, beat her or hurt her, but for him to guide her, to show her what she really desired and what he could do with her body.

He thought, running his fingertips over her moist, hot slit, that perhaps this was what he had been craving deep inside himself all this time.

"− ah − please, sir −" She mewled helplessly, and he felt her words between his thighs. He licked his lips, trailing his fingers over her throbbing, weeping cunt, teasing her hard nipple with his other hand, each of his movements accompanied by the loud click of her moisture.

"− what are you asking me to do? − use your words −" He exhaled, feeling that he was embarrassingly close to climax himself, and wondered if he was going to cum in his own trousers for the first time in his life.

"− please − please, put it inside me −" She mumbled out and he swallowed hard feeling her buttocks rubbing against his cock.

He froze for a moment, running his fingers over her hot, leaking folds, fighting with himself, on the one hand wanting only this, on the other the contract was different and he never broke the terms he himself had agreed to and signed.

What if, afterwards, she found that she didn't want it and decided that he had raped her, go to the police with it?

This thought sobered his mind a little, though his whole body shuddered with disappointment, his two fingers suddenly forced their way inside her with her moan of pleasure.

"− I can't − you know I can't, don't you? −" He breathed out, pressing the tips of his fingertips into the fleshy structure of her muscles, searching for the spot hidden between them.

She shuddered all over when he felt it a moment later, his thumb trailing over her clit as his two fingers dug in between her slick folds with a loud click of her wetness − he felt her whole body tense in anticipation, again and again his fingers squeezed her the way she needed it.

"− I'll be good, sir − please − please − please − I'll be good −" She cried out, her sticky walls began to clench around his fingers, sucking them inside and he closed his eyes, imagining he felt it on his hard, aching cock.

How tight she was.

He'd never done this before and he knew he shouldn't, but for some reason he was desperate, his mind clouded by what he'd seen and what he needed.

He watched her face in disbelief, her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed with exertion, her lips parted sweetly in a loud, accelerated breath.

"We can do this, but on my terms. I'll just fuck you, nothing more. No money. Do you understand?" He asked her in a trembling voice, as if he wanted to make sure she understood, that it meant nothing to him, that she just turned him on too much and he wanted to take it out on her.

He saw her eyes open suddenly, fear and relief filling her gaze as she whispered just a few words without looking at him.

"Let me look at your face, sir."

He himself didn't know when he suddenly flipped her onto her back as his lips clung with a loud purr to her hard, swollen nipple, sucking and licking it − he heard her moan loudly, startled, making him lose his temper. His hands in a helpless reflex slid down to the button of his trousers and his zipper, releasing his erection quickly, he wasn't sure he had ever been so terrified and aroused at the same time.

He knew things had gotten out of hand and that he would regret it, but he couldn't deny himself, knowing that he would probably never see her again.

"Don't touch me. Do you understand? If you touch me, I'll stop and I'll slap your arse so hard you won't be able to sit for the next few weeks." He hissed, looking her straight in the face, reaching his hand into his pocket to pull out the condom −she merely nodded, her hands clenched on either side of her face, her swollen lips parted in a quick, uneven breath.

He looked at her pretty figure, her sweet, plump breasts, her flushed face, her hair in disarray, and thought helplessly that she was beautiful and that he would go mad if he didn't do this to her.

Never before had he put a condom over his length as quickly as he did then − with a quick, sure, impatient movement he slid her panties off her, already all wet with her moisture, grabbed her by her hips and pushed her closer, momentarily forcing her tight, leaking folds to let him inside her.

He didn't speak, because he didn't know what he was supposed to say either, ashamed of his own desperation as he pushed deeper into her with a sure, sharp thrust.

He began to pound into her as if he had completely lost his mind, fast and out of control − she threw her head to the side, writhing beneath him, moaning loudly, her walls wonderfully moist and hot, clenching on him so tightly that he struggled to restrain himself from cumming just yet, not wanting to humiliate himself.

"− oh God −" He muttered, looking at her as if through a fog, leaning over her, his hands found hers, her fingers clenched on them, seeking proximity − she looked up at him pleadingly, panting and quivering.

He suspected that never before had anyone fucked her at such a brutal, fast pace from which she couldn't catch her breath, her thighs spread wide before him in a gesture of trust, their bodies slapping against each other with the loud clicks of her wetness.

"− these idiots couldn't even fuck you properly, hm? −" He panted low and she only nodded, his fingers intertwining with hers in some subconscious reflex, as if he wanted to show her that he understood her, that she had a right to be disappointed, that he had no idea how any man could fail to give her what she needed.

"− my poor little baby − am I right? −" He breathed out and she cried loudly and nodded her head, something in her gaze, in her eyes flooded with tears, filled with despair, tenderness and relief made him lean lower and cling to her lips.

She moaned loudly into his throat and he felt her walls squeeze him tightly with a sudden, intense orgasm, sucking him inside as his tongue invaded between her lips. She reciprocated his kiss with such devotion that a few of his helpless, sloppy thrusts were enough to make him cum into the condon.

"− fuck − fuck, baby −" He breathed out into her mouth as if she was his, as if they were in his bed in his flat, as if he loved her and was about to have dinner with her or go to sleep lying next to her, as if she wasn't a stranger to him, her sweet scent, her innocent sounds and the taste of her mouth were all that filled his mind as he continued to rock his hips deep inside her.

Even though they had both came, they didn't stop kissing, their lips joining and pulling away from each other lazily with a loud click of their saliva, his hands roaming up and down her fingers, alternately stroking them and entwining them with his own again.

Something about what was happening between them, about this sudden, unexpected closeness calmed him and made him completely drift off.

He knew that she had wanted to touch and kiss him from the very beginning, but she still respected his decision and his rules.

And he, for some reason incomprehensible to himself, broke them for her.

He pressed his face to her cheek, panting along with her, unsure of what he should do now, distracted and ashamed that he couldn't help himself, that for the first time in his life he had overstepped the time and competence he should have given her.

And that wasn't good.

What if she thinks now that they are in love with each other, that maybe one day they will be together? If she starts writing to him and stalking him like so many women before her?

"I'm sorry." He heard her whisper and shuddered, snapped out of his reverie.

He opened his eyes and met her gaze, her hands still on either side of her head. He grunted quietly, horrified at how close she was, that he could smell her pleasant scent so intensely, her breath, the warmth of her body.

"I'm the one who should apologise. I behaved unprofessionally. I won't take money from you." He replied after a moment, and she shook her head, shocked.

"− n-no, why − I mean − after all, you did what we agreed to do − you gave me your time, I −"

"− you're not the kind of person who would enjoy a strong dominant-submissive interaction − you'd be terrified − you're worrying too much − probably those guys before me didn't ask you what you needed, hm? − that's what I thought − there's nothing wrong with you − that's my diagnosis −" He hummed, sighing heavily, lifting himself up on his elbows, placing a lingering, tender kiss on her forehead.

He slipped out of her gently with her quiet hiss of discomfort − he saw her press her lips together when he slided the shed condom off his manhood and tie it off, tossing it into the small bin standing next to his bed, zipping his trousers back up. He saw her reach with a trembling hand for her underwear and sighed under his breath, shaking his head.

"Wipe yourself well first, the tissues are lying on the table next to you. Don't you have underwear to change into?" He asked uncertainly, realising that this was usually obvious to the women who visited him, as it was to him, so he didn't warn her, thinking she would figure it out for herself.

She shook her head quickly and he sighed heavily, taking a bottle of water standing on the table, unscrewing it and handing it to her, seeing that she completely didn't know what she should do with herself now.

"− drink − you'd better just wipe yourself off and put your trousers on −" He replied and she nodded, red with embarrassment, taking a few deep sips of water without looking at him.

He turned away as she started to get dressed, running his hand over his face, recognising that he was an idiot and had completely lost his fucking mind, unable to forgive himself for fucking her even though their terms were different.

He shuddered as she approached him quietly − he thought terrified that she was going to try to touch him, maybe even thinking they were going to become lovers now, but she just held a bundle of banknotes in front of him, looking at him pleadingly.

"− I already told you I won't take it − keep it −"

"− I can't, after all −"

"− don't piss me off −" He growled, and she pressed her lips together, lowering her hand, swallowing loudly.

They stared at each other for a long moment in awkward silence to say the least − he grunted, combing his fingers through his hair, feeling that for some reason his heart was pounding like crazy.

What was happening to him?

"− consider it a gift − we both made each other feel good − right? −" He asked, as if he wanted to make sure he hadn't hurt her. She nodded and smiled softly, shyly, for some reason making him feel a squeeze in his throat.

He regretted that she had ever written to him.

He regretted that he had said yes.

He regretted that it had been so pleasant.

"− thank you − and I apologise again − I won't take up your time anymore − I wish you all the best − please take care of yourself and be happy −" She said finally, and he flinched, looking at her in disbelief − he felt that his lips were parted in shock as he looked at her dully.

He didn't know what to answer.

Only after a while did he get anything out of himself, feeling that she was due at least some perfunctory response.

"− it's me who's sorry − I also wish you all the best −"

She nodded and smiled warmly at him, before her trembling hand reached for her backpack and headed towards the door, opening it and disappearing behind it a moment later.

He looked at the bed, at the sheets where the mark of her body was clearly visible, the fact that she had just been lying there, that he had been deep inside her and had fucked her like he had never put his cock inside any woman before.

He went over there and just lay on his stomach, sinking his face into the pillow that was drenched in her scent.

For the next few days, his head was in a state of chaos − one part of him was afraid that she would reach out to him, that she would seek contact or a relationship with him, like so many women before her wanting to be special to him, to be the only one.

The other part of him was even begging for her to do it, for him to be able to free himself at last from the memories of what he had done to her, that she had broken something in him, that he couldn't look at the women who came after her.

He couldn't focus, he felt remorse, he couldn't even get aroused and he was so frustrated that, to the despair of his regular clients, he decided to take a break for a few weeks to cool down.

His friend from university, Robert, had already invited him to his birthday party a month earlier and although he didn't have the energy to go anywhere, he knew that afterwards he would be listening to him and Criston moan in class about how completely unsocial he was.

He figured that since it was only going to be a private party at his house, he might as well go there at least for a while so no one would accuse him of lack of effort.

When he stopped outside his house he got out of the car and decided to have a quick cigarette, tired and discouraged, knowing that sooner or later his savings would run out and he would have to go back to it, whether he wanted to or not.

Or find another, lower-paid job.

He sighed heavily, clamping his fingers over the base of his nose, closing his eyes, trying to calm himself. He heard movement beside him and the screech of brakes, lifted his gaze and froze when it became apparent that she had just sat down beside him from her bike, a wide smile on her lips as if she thought he was a stranger, only recognising him after a moment, her lips parted then in horror, panic in her gaze.

He stared at her, feeling his body freeze.

Fuck.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

"Oh God. Do you know Robert?" She muttered, and he swallowed hard, feeling a tightening in his throat at the thought that she could have been his friend's girlfriend.

"Yes. Fuck. And you?" He asked her quickly with some sort of accusation, from which she swallowed hard.

"I-I, I'm his younger sister. I went to get some candles, I didn't know…"

"It's okay. I'll just go home." He replied, taking a few quick puffs of his cigarette, crushing it with his foot, turning back towards his car.

"N-no, please. Are you Aemond? Did I guess right? Robert was telling me about you. How he's glad you're coming. That you rarely talk or go out somewhere as a threesome with Criston. It's good that we met here, we'll avoid an awkward greeting. Please, don't be embarrassed." She muttered, and he sighed heavily, running his hand over his face, heartbroken. They both shuddered when they heard a knock on the glass, Robert looked at them through the window and started waving at them, gleeful.

Jesus Christ.

They both headed towards her house, knowing that since he'd seen him, he couldn't run away anymore anyway. He was terrified that since she was Robert's sister, she was someone familiar, not a stranger, that this changed everything and nothing, his heart pounding like mad.

"Do you have a lighter?" She asked as they stopped in front of the front door and he shook his head, snapped out of his reverie, frowning his brow.

"What?"

"Do you have a lighter? Can you help me? I need to light the candles on his birthday cake." She muttered in a whisper as if someone might overhear them, and she was telling him an important secret. He sighed heavily and nodded, recognising that he must have been dreaming all this.

Robert greeted him with joy, all around them Criston, their family and a few of his high school friends, a whole group of people he didn't know and with whom he knew he wouldn't find common ground, and among them her.

He wished him well and gave him his present, but he was unable to focus − he met her terrified gaze, she was pointing her finger at him that she needed his help in the kitchen.

He followed her as if into the lion's mouth, watching from the side as she opened the fridge in the darkness, taking out a blueberry meringue. She sighed heavily, placing it on the table in front of him, only the lights of the street lamps around them.

"It looked better in the picture on the internet, but I did my best." She mumbled, as if she wanted to say anything that would lighten the atmosphere between them.

He felt like an idiot when their trembling hands touched as he handed her the lighter and swallowed loudly, watching as one by one the candles began to glow with the warm, bright light of the flame.

He wanted to ask her if something in her life had changed, if she now knew what she wanted and needed, if she thought about what had happened.

Was she thinking about him.

She picked up the cake when it was all ready and let the air out loud through her mouth, looking him straight in the eye.

"Let's go."

After singing a short 'Happy Birthday', Robert blew out all the candles, happy to announce that his little sister had remembered what cake he loved best, assuring everyone that it was certainly delicious.

They spent the whole party throwing surreptitious, embarrassed glances at each other − he had to empty a few glasses of strong Whisky to calm himself down, the alcohol relaxing him a little, though only seemingly, suppressing his fear, but making him start thinking about something else again.

He looked at her figure dressed in a modest mid-thigh summer dress, her hair, her face − saw the way she laughed, the way she talked to others and felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought that then, being with him, she wasn't pretending.

She really was like that.

Affectionate, open, sweet, kind.

Everything he wasn't.

He swallowed heavily at the thought, sad and embittered, taking another deep sip from his glass.

"How are you going to get home? Criston is staying the night at our house, why don't you stay too? It's late." Said Robert sitting down next to him on the couch, patting him on the back in a friendly manner, already himself relaxed by the considerable amount of alcohol his body had assimilated.

He swallowed hard, looking at his sister from afar, feeling that this was a very bad idea.

"Why not." He muttered, thinking that he was a moron for looking for trouble himself, and that if Robert found out what he'd done to his sister, he'd kill him with his own hands.

Criston and a few others occupied the upstairs rooms, and he suggested he could sleep in the living room on the couch, to which Robert agreed.

He hoped this would embolden her to come to him, as he himself would never have dared to knock on her door despite how desperate he was.

At the thought that he might feel her again, his manhood reacted with an enthusiastic, intense pulsing in his trousers.

He felt that he was drunk as he began to pull off his black tight turtleneck, managing it with difficulty, pulling off his shoes, laying down dressed only in Tshirt and trousers with a quiet sigh and covered himself carelessly with the blanket, listening.

Is she going to do it or not?

And even if she comes to him, should he agree?

He felt disappointment when an hour passed and nothing happened, silence all around him and the loud snoring of someone coming from the upstairs rooms, perhaps her and Robert's father. He sighed heavily, recognising that he had made it all up, that she was surely now ashamed of him and what she had done, trying to forget it.

He swallowed hard at the thought, feeling discomfort in his stomach, and closed his eyes, figuring he would try to get at least a few hours of sleep.

He shuddered and opened them again when he heard a quiet creak, as if someone was walking down the corridor above him, but he wasn't sure himself if it wasn't just his imagination. A shiver ran down his spine and his manhood swelled all over when he heard someone quietly walk down the steps.

Whoever this person was, however, she didn't approach him but walked through the living room to the kitchen.

He felt his heart start pounding like crazy when he caught sight of her silhouette in the darkness, dressed only in an oversized white Tshirt and light shorts − she walked over to the tap, took a glass from the drawer and poured herself some water.

Should he approach her or not?

What if she gets scared?

Fuck.

He didn't even know when he just picked himself up on the couch, for some reason doing it very slowly so that his movements couldn't be heard − he felt like a predator who wanted to get closer to his prey even though he didn't really intend to harm her.

As soon as he stood up he immediately felt the room around him spin, the pleasant, intoxicating warmth of the alcohol melting through his lower abdomen making him seem less terrified of what he wanted to do than if he had been completely sober.

When she caught sight of his silhouette out of the corner of her eye she almost choked on the water − she spat some of it into the sink coughing loudly, making him freeze motionless, afraid to approach her. She quickly wiped her mouth with her hand, looking at him with big eyes.

"My God, you scared me." She muttered pale, her pretty, smooth face illuminated by the warm light of the street lamps standing in front of her house.

He stared at her for a moment, thinking that perhaps it must all have been a dream after all, that the fact that she was standing in front of him was unreal, invented by his distraught, drunken mind.

"I'm sorry." He stammered, swallowing hard, standing a good distance away from her, fighting with himself not to look shamelessly at her bare legs and her nipples peeking through from under her T-shirt.

Again.

They stood for a moment in uncomfortable silence, both of them breathing embarrassingly loudly, as if each of them was reliving deep inside themselves the fact that they were seeing each other again.

And on top of that, in her brother's house.

"I didn't know you were his sister. I swear. I would never do that to you." He finally started to speak, to explain, although he didn't know why − he had the feeling that he was trying to get anything out of himself so she didn't go back upstairs to her room.

He heard her sigh quietly, stroking her bare shoulder with her trembling hand. She shifted from foot to foot in a nervous gesture, looking somewhere to the side, her lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath.

"I know." She whispered, and he felt a heat in his lower abdomen and a pleasant shudder at the thought that perhaps she wasn't misjudging him, that perhaps she wasn't disgusted by him at all.

"How do you feel? I mean − are you okay?" She asked in a trembling voice, as if she wasn't sure if she should be asking this kind of question. She glanced at him uncertainly, clearly wanting to check his reaction, he stared at her stunned, completely surprised by her question.

"− I… yeah, I guess − I mean, I'm on a break from − you know − from this − right now −" He muttered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his black trousers, looking at the floor, feeling ashamed and embarrassed for some reason.

It's because of you, he wanted to say.

I did it for you.

"Something happened?" She asked after a moment, playing with the fingers of her hands in a nervous reflex, as if she was afraid of what she would hear.

"− yes − I mean − I have doubts − I always had, but now… they've intensified − you know −" He muttered, shrugging his shoulders, feeling the tightness in his throat and stomach growing stronger, his heart pounding like mad, cold sweat running down his back.

I'm just a whore, he thought.

I sell myself for money.

She nodded her head quickly so he knew she understood.

"− I'm sorry −" She said quietly, and he looked at her dully, not knowing why for some reason his lower lip trembled, why he felt a burning sensation under his eyelids.

He was ashamed that he desired her so much, that he wanted her words but also her body, wanted to fuck her first and then embrace her and fall asleep.

Was he treating her objectively? Was he only able to think about one thing?

Sex, sex, sex, sex.

He couldn't get anything out of himself.

He shuddered, drawing in air loudly as she came closer to him, in her gaze genuine fear and worry at his condition, questioning whether she could do anything for him, help him in any way.

He knew she longed to touch him − he saw out of the corner of his eye her hand rising to touch his shoulder but falling back after a moment, reminding himself that he never allowed anyone to invade his space.

He felt like screaming.

"− do you want to talk about it? −"

He wasn't sure he wanted to talk to anyone about it, but after a while he was sitting next to her on the terrace anyway, covered in a thick, soft blanket, sitting next to her on a rather uncomfortable wooden bench hanging by chains, which he rocked back and forth with involuntary movements of his knees, lighting a cigarette from his lighter with a quiet hiss of fire.

He took a drag and let the smoke out loudly through his nose, sighing quietly, just thinking about the fact that their hips and shoulders were touching.

"What did you think of me? After all this." He asked suddenly, swallowing loudly as he heard her twist in her place, throwing him a surprised, even horrified look. She sighed quietly, covering herself more tightly with the fluffy material.

"That you are a good man."

He felt his hand with the cigarette freeze in mid-motion as he was about to take another drag and for some reason he laughed in disbelief at her words, feeling a piercing pain in his chest, his eyebrows arching in amusement.

"That I'm a good man. Good God." He hummed, taking another drag − he could see she was looking down at her fingers, ashamed of her words and his cruel reaction. He licked his lower lip with his tongue and closed his eyes, feeling that he was completely hard.

He could smell her, she was still using that fruity, pleasant, fresh perfume.

"You're a romantic, innocent soul, aren't you?" He sneered, letting the smoke out again through his nose with a loud sigh − he heard her cough quietly as the smell of tobacco rose into her lungs. She grunted quietly, her lips tightened in displeasure.

"Innocent souls come to a strange man to spank them for money?"

"You didn't want me to spank you. You haven't experienced even a hint of real, hard domination, sweet girl." He snarled, spreading himself out comfortably on the back of the bench with a loud creak of wood, the metal chains squeaking quietly each time he made another movement with his foot, putting the structure in motion.

"So why did you agree to this?" She asked finally, and he fell silent, staring blankly ahead, taking one last drag on what was left of his cigarette.

"Good question."

They both fell silent again, feeling that their conversation was starting to get out of hand, and after all, someone could have woken up, opened the window, overheard their words.

"Did you tell Robert?" He asked suddenly, and she shook her head, horrified.

"N-no, of course not. And I won't. This is between you two. He respects you very much." She muttered, lowering her gaze to her bent knees, which she held under her chin. He hummed at her statement, accepting her words with some sort of relief.

"Did that help you? Now you know what you need?" He asked impassively, letting the smoke out loudly through his mouth, dropping the remnants of his cigarette into the glass with the unfinished drink, feeling her gaze on him, her body tense, he knew she had hesitated.

"In a way." She replied, and he dared to look her straight in the eye.

She didn't lower her gaze even though he knew some part of her wanted to do so, her lips parted slightly when she noticed his hands had slipped under the blanket, into his trousers. She swallowed loudly when she heard the sound of his zipper being undone and the fabric being unfastened.

"Come here. Sit on my lap." He ordered softly, and she did so without hesitation, as if she had only been waiting for those words, something in her confidence, in her assurance, in her desire, in her hot gaze made his breath stand in his throat.

They said nothing as he slipped her shorts off her, as he lowered his trousers, finally releasing his aching, swollen erection, already leaking from his precum. He didn't protest when her hands tentatively embraced his neck, barely touching him, merely catching her balance, his free hand covering their hips with a blanket.

"I'm clean. I had myself tested a few weeks ago, after I'd already taken a break." He whispered, feeling his cock throb aggressively in his hand at the thought that he could come deep inside her if she would just let him. She nodded her head in understanding, one movement of his hand between her thighs reassuring him that no further treatment would be necessary.

"Have you been this wet all evening? Hm? Have you suffered as much as I have?" He gasped, directing the pink, fat head of his manhood at her swollen slit. She nodded again, her lips parted in disbelief and delight, her eyes closed as she felt him begin to push inside her,his thumbs spreading her folds to the sides, watching with a rapidly beating heart as he slowly opened her wide on his cock.

"− fuck − fuck, tell me you're taking your pills −" He breathed out, tilting his head back, with one sure thrust of his hips filling her tight, leaking cunt to the brim. She squirmed quietly as he began to move inside her immediately, pounding into her with deep, sure stabs, rubbing each time the spot inside her from where she could see stars.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled out, rising and falling on his thick, aching manhood, giving him a wonderful squeeze each time, from which he sank his fingers deeper into her soft buttocks, forcing her into a fast, sharp rhythm in which he hardly slid out of her, panting and grunting louder than usual, thinking only of how wonderfully warm she was, that he could feel her moist, fleshy walls with his whole being with each sure thrust.

"− kiss me −" He exhaled and groaned loudly into her mouth as her lips instantly clung to his in a sloppy, sticky dance, his tongue invading deep into her throat, a shudder went through him as one of her hands combed through his hair.

"− m sorry −" She mumbled, immediately lowering her hand, but he put his one arm around her waist and pressed her closer to him, deepening the kiss with a loud purr of satisfaction, feeling wonderful, the alcohol had given him courage, and her touch was sweet and tender, not making him feel cornered.

"− it's okay − touch my face −" He sighed out between loud, wet licks of their swollen lips, quickening his pace as her hands gripped his cheeks, as her forehead pressed against his. Her walls began to clench on him with increasing intensity, making him lose his temper, not letting her escape the brutal thrusts of his hips.

"− oh, God − fuck, where −" He only mumbled, feeling that it was about to be too late.

"− please, inside me − ah −" She mewled so sweetly that he sighed loudly, surprised to feel his muscles relax, his semen spilling deep inside her without his willpower as her walls began to suck him and squeeze him in orgasm.

They both panted loudly, rocking their hips for a while longer, pulsing and shuddering, stroking each other's faces, looking at each other with their lips slightly parted, breathing heavily.

"− shall we go out somewhere tomorrow? − you know − to the pub or something? −" He muttered embarrassed that he had wanted something more, that he broke his own rule.

He was relieved when she giggled and smiled, nodding, only to lean in a moment later and kiss him in a drawn-out manner with her soft, puffy lips. He murmured contentedly, stroking her warm, bare buttocks with lazy movements, reciprocating her caress with a loud click of their saliva.

She pulled away from him at last, her hand combing slowly through his short hair making a pleasant shiver run along his spine.

"− why not −"

387 notes · View notes

nicxl333 · 8 months

Note

could you do a part 2 of bllk boys accidentally hurting their partner bu with a good ending please.

My stomach wouldn't be able to handle mor angst(⁠T⁠T⁠)

BABY YOU SOLD ME A DREAM PT.2

thanks for the req anon, i think you’re doing everyone a favour here by asking for this because whew! i was ready to dropkick a mf from writing pt.1 lmao

also if you’re here by chance it’s probably best if you read pt.1 for context before you read pt.2 | :3

characters: isagi yoichi, reo mikage, nagi seishiro, barou shoei, itoshi rin

content: overwhelming fluff, slight angst, major angst (in rin and barou’s part), reader is female coded (the term ‘girlfriend ‘ is used)

tags: @kaiserkisser @silly-ez @scaramouchemyloveee @mariyumemi @wishiknewwhatiwasdoingwithmylife @hsxhype @aquamarine001 @nxgiswife @hanagoromo-roses

☆彡 ISAGI YOICHI

two weeks. two long, monotonous weeks spent without isagi. yes bachira did his very best to make sure you were comfortable with him, but you missed isagi so damn much.

it wasn’t only difficult for you though, bachira was trapped in a bad position. due to him being a friend of both you and isagi, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. while it was evident that isagi had fucked you over badly, being in a team with isagi and having him as a bestfriend didn’t make things better. he couldn’t just pick a side and be done with it.

unbeknownst to you though, isagi asked bachira multiple times each day about how you were doing. after some self reflection, he realised just how wrong he was for treating you that way. especially since people like you nowadays are hard to come by. someone so nurturing, caring and full of love and devotion for their s/o was quite the rarity to find. and to think he nearly lost all of that with just a few words. really opened up his perspective of things. he wanted to do better. for you and himself.

and so, he cut down his training times, making more time for himself to wind down from daily intensive workouts. he thought of words to say to you, to make it known to you that he was aware where he went wrong and was taking responsibility for his actions.

he also went shopping, to buy you a multitude of gifts. clothes, jewellery, trainers and heels, perfumes, trinkets. you name it, he bought it. it all cost him a hand and a foot, but he didn’t mind, he would do it 100 times over for you. (we should remember this man is a professional footballer, he’s got dough.) once home, he placed all the gifts on the coffee table in the living room, having to put some on the floor due to the sheer amount he bought, ready to take them to bachira’s tomorrow.

little did he know he wouldn’t have to make the commute.

you had said your goodbyes to bachira that same day, thanking him for taking you in for so long with a big bear hug, to which he returned with just as much (platonic) love as you had shown him. you placed your bag in the backseat of your car, turning on the ignition and beginning the drive back home.

as the roads whizzed by you on the highway, so did the thoughts in your head. you were very nervous to have to talk to isagi again, to have to recall exactly what happened that night. glancing at the time on the dashboard, you drew the conclusion that isagi should be training right now, which would at least give you time to prepare before he got back.

as you pulled up to the apartment complex, the first thing you noticed was that isagi’s car was there, in his usual spot next to yours.

‘he’s home?’

surely not, maybe he just hitched a ride or something. although that didn’t make any sense whatsoever. there would be no reason why isagi would skip his evening trainings, not that you could think of anyways. even after joint practice with his team he would then further push himself to do his own training, polishing up on his skills. so to think he’s potentially broken that pattern confused you.

after parking your car and collecting your things you made your way to your front door, unlocking it and venturing in. once you placed your keys on the side table and took off your shoes, you walked into the empty living room, ultimately puzzled when you noticed the coffee table filled to the brim with bags from your favourite places.

“yoichi? you there?”

nothing.

you therefore assumed he was out, deciding to take a closer look at the bags. inside, everything you had ever bought for yourself or displayed interest in while out with isagi lay in each bag. even things that you didn’t have, but wanted, were present.

he remembered.

your eyes immediately welled with tears of appreciation, head snapping to your bedroom door when you heard it open, isagi’s figure stepping out. you immediately jolted, not expecting him to actually be here, even though you didn’t actually take the time to look and see properly.

“shit! y/n, you’re back? wait, why’re you crying?”

in an instant he crossed the distance to you, wiping the tears away once he assessed and evaluated that you were not hurt.

“uh— sorry. i should’ve asked you first. is this okay?” he quizzed, holding the sides of your face tenderly. you nodded, leaning into his touch.

“are these for me yoichi?” you looked into his cobalt blue eyes. one hand left your cheek, rubbing at the skin behind his neck, suddenly feeling shy.

“erm…yes. yes they are. i wasn’t expecting you back though, i was gonna surprise you tomorrow. ” he pulled you towards the sofa, sitting you down and looking deep into your (e/c) eyes.

“look y/n, i know materialism doesn’t take away what i did to you, but i want you to know just how sorry i am. you didn’t deserve how i treated you. not two weeks ago or months before. i made you feel lonely, i put football before you. when you needed me, i shut you out. and i take full accountability for that. words couldn’t describe just how badly i’m in love with you and how crazy you make me feel. i couldn’t bear to lose that forever. hell, these two weeks without you have tormented me enough. a lifetime without you would finish me off for good.”

you listened to him speak every word, touched that he would say such soothing words to you. yes, you did expect him to apologise, but not to go above and beyond to show his willingness to change.

your nose started flaring, the sting of your eyes warning that you were about to cry again.

feeling uncomfortable with your silence, isagi pressed you slightly.

“y/n? are you— are you oka-”

you cut him off by pouncing on him, engulfing him in a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him like it was your last.

“i’m yours yoichi. always and forever.”

☆彡 MIKAGE REO

you woke up in the same hotel room you cried yourself to sleep in. throat dry, head pulsating and heart wounded. you needed some form of rejuvenation, but, considering you didn’t have any clothes on you, seemed hard to achieve.

you reached for your phone, shocked when you saw 20 missed calls and 46 messages from the very same person who caused you anguish in the first place. opening the message app you see the most recent messages being sent at around 5am.

“y/n, where are you?”

“y/n please answer the phone!”

“are you safe at least, i’m worried about you.”

“i just wanna know if you’re okay, we need to talk.”

“y/n?”

“y/n please, im starting to worry, just send me a text, or something. let me know you’re okay.”

although you were beyond pissed at the guy, he was concerned for your safety, and to make him worry for you like that shouldn’t have to be something anyone should experience.

you sent him a quick, straightforward response.

“i’m fine, you don’t need to worry.”

the read receipt came as quickly as you sent it, a bubble popping up, signaling that reo was typing. however, after a few moments, it disappeared altogether, leaving your message standing alone.

you sighed, deciding that the least you could do was shower, feeling clammy and, simply put, dirty.

luckily, your job was well paying so you were able to book a lavish en-suite hotel room, although you didn’t pay attention to that much last night, willing to go just about anywhere as long as it weren’t near reo. inside the bathroom lay exquisite amenities, top branded shower gel, shampoo and conditioner, along with oils and different expensive face care products. an unopened toothbrush pack also was present on the bathroom counter, with toothpaste alongside it. and by the full glass shower itself stood a towel and robe on the hanging rack.

it weren’t exactly clothes, but it was a start. better than staying in your dress the whole day. while you waited for the shower water to warm you looked at yourself in the mirror, cringing at how dishevelled your figure was. your cheeks were tear stained, causing your mascara to run, your lips had smeared lipstick still present, and your hair? let’s not even go there. you looked a hot mess, physical evidence of your current mood.

once heated to a substantial temperature you stepped into the shower, revelling at how that warm water melted into your skin. you made good work of scrubbing down your skin, leaving no traces of any events that may have transpired the day before.

soon enough you finished up your shower, stepping out and wrapping the towel round your figure, feeling refreshed, but still incomplete. you brushed your teeth next, trying to avoid letting your thoughts go off topic from the current task at hand.

just as you were walking into the room itself to look for moisturiser, you heard a knock at the door. it confused you to the core. no one actually knew your whereabouts so you couldn’t rack your brain to guess who it could be. you ventured close to the door, looking through the peephole and visibly relaxing once you saw a hotel worker standing, waiting.

“hello?”

“ah, good morning miss y/n, i have a bag here requested to be brought to you.”

if you weren’t confused before, you were bewildered now. this meant that someone hand to have known where’d you were, but how? only one way to find out.

“requested by who, might i ask?”

“mr…mikage reo?”

what the actual hell. you were well and truly silenced by the revelation. more importantly, it’s quite amazing how he managed to find your location with such haste. although it shouldn’t really surprise you so much, considering he probably had connections due to his status. it made you wonder just what exactly he brought to you.

“erm ma’am?”

you cracked the door open, seeing one of reo’s duffel bags stuffed to the brim. the hotel worker held it out for you to take, bowing then turning to leave immediately after. you carried the heavy bag through the room, placing it on the ottoman at the end of the bed.

you stood for a second, debating whether you should open it or not. curiosity got the better of you though, and you unzipped the bag, stalling when you realised it was a bag of clothes for you, as well as the moisturiser you use, some makeup products and your favourite trainers. it’s like he somehow knew you would need clothes, probably since you didn’t return home last night.

taking the clothes from the bag you realised he packed you one of your favourite hoodies, his own hoodie.

after moisturising yourself you started to put the clothes on, feeling slightly better about yourself. you looked into your makeup bag, seeing some of your basic everyday skin and hair products, as well as your everyday perfume, feeling grateful that reo at least paid attention enough to know what you liked and used.

just as you had finished your skincare routine you heard another lock at the door, wondering who it could be at this time. you got up and crossed your way to the door, looking through the peephole and freezing.

your boyfriend, reo stood at the door, looking around nervously.

you gauged your options for a moment, reaching an ultimatum with yourself that you couldn’t avoid him forever. you opened the door fully, stepping to the side for him to walk in, which he did, stepping meticulously and with precaution, while you closed the door behind him.

all was silent for a moment, neither party knowing what to say to the other, a million thoughts rushing through the room. the tension was taut, the air thick, and awkwardness seeping in.

you collected yourself, deciding to start it off.

“thanks for the clothes, i appreciate it.”

“it’s…the least i could do, considering how i treated you.” he said, simultaneously biting down on his lip.

“yeah.”

he moved closer towards you, looking at your expression to see if he was crossing boundaries at any point.

“y/n.” you looked at him with apprehension, worried about what may fly out of his mouth next. “i want you to know that what happened last night, was entirely my fault. i need you to understand that.”

you frowned with sadness displayed on your face. yes he may be owning up to his actions, but that didn’t explain why he said what he said. especially if he could say something of that degree to you with such ease. it sounded like he meant every word.

becoming slightly anxious from your silence, he continued on.

“i made you it sound like you were inadequate or you were lower than me because i have money. i know it sounds bad, but y/n, it’s really the opposite. you don’t look at me for my background, you look at me for who i am as a person. you make me feel normal. make me feel like i can be myself around you. i don’t have to keep myself guarded around you and i appreciate you so much for it. i guess that’s why i spoke out of turn to you like that last night. because you’re probably the only person who can actually knock me down a peg. and having nagi hear that made me scared. scared because i was vulnerable in front of him. of course, i’m not excusing my actions, and i’m not asking for forgiveness, i just want you to know i’m sorry.”

you nodded slowly in understanding, looking at the way he subconsciously tugged on a piece of his violet tresses. he left his hair down today. you loved it when his hair was down. he knew that.

“i hear you reo, but that’s not the only issue. this whole problem stemmed from the fact that you spend too much time with nagi. i don’t wanna be the girlfriend that prohibits you from spending time with your friends, that’s not who i am, but when you’re with nagi so much that it makes you forget important dates, that’s when it becomes a problem. especially when you then make it out to be like i’m the problem. no one is saying you can’t be around him, but have a backbone please. he’s always there reo. sometimes i just want you to myself, is that too much to ask for?”

he realised where he went wrong, casting you aside for the sake of nagi, which wasn’t cool. and he didn’t want to lose you. you were too good to him and he felt so strongly about you. anything you asked for could never be too much, not to him.

and so, he stepped closer to you still, scooping you up in his arms and spinning you around, relishing in the way you wrapped your arms around his neck, both for stabilisation and comfort.

“no baby, it’s never too much. not when it comes to you.”

you squeezed him tighter, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck and smiling.

“i don’t like it when we fight reo, i love you too much for that.”

“i love you too y/n,” he placed you down gently on the bed, laying you back and caging you in with both arms, his hair hanging directly over your face. “so…we’re gonna go back home and i want you to pack your bags. we’re going to mykonos for the week to celebrate our anniversary together.”

you straightened up, wondering where this was all coming from.

“huh? reo, you’re forgetting something? you may be off season right now but i still have work.”

“not for the next two weeks, i pulled some strings so now you have paid time off, which, gives you more time with your favourite man.”

you chuckled at his revelation, knowing he definitely used his power to threaten your manager. reo could be so demanding at times.

“speaking of which, do you know where he is?” his face immediately darkened at that.

“wanna repeat that?”

“nope!”

☆彡 NAGI SEISHIRO

nagi was in a state. it had only been 4 days since you broke up with him, but that was 4 days too long for him. it wasn’t actually until you broke it off with him and it sunk in that you were gone, that it really registered for him.

he missed you.

it made him realise, as much as he hated being bothered…he didn’t mind if it were you. he really did enjoy spending time with you. especially when cuddling. your figure was so soft, a perfect cushion for him to lay on as he slept. you would play with his hair so gently, lulling him to sleep. and you were really pretty.

the apartment just seemed all the more empty without you. yes, he did live alone pre blue lock a few years back, but having you live with him made him get used to having someone around. he grew comfortable and accustomed to it. so much so that it felt lonely when you left.

you had temporarily went back to your parents house while you looked for a new place to live. you had a few items of miscellaneous clothing left behind in your room, but you had ran out, thus needing the majority of your stuff, which you had left back at nagi’s.

you left off, with the promise to your parents that you’d be back soon.

the engine hummed as you drove back, playing your playlist on a high volume, hoping to drown out the thoughts spiralling in your head, although it did little to silence them.

you didn’t plan a time to leave out, but realised that you had coincidentally headed out at the same time nagi would be home, a meeting inevitable. oh well. had to happen at some point. you planned on a quick and brisk pit stop, hoping to minimise interaction with him as much as possible.

you pulled up to the apartment complex, walking through the lobby, swiping your keycard and pressing the lift to go to the penthouse.

in no time you reached the top, the lift doors opening. you stepped out and pushed your key into the lock, opening the door as silently as you could, walking in and shutting it with a click.

yes, you may have been moving around like a teenager after a forbidden night out, but you would much rather that than have to be further insulted by nagi, should he catch you.

alas, things cannot always go smoothly in life, for nagi had heard you, stepping out of the bedroom, shirtless with loosely hanging shorts, evidently having just woken up from a nap.

he instantly stopped, rubbing his eyes to see if he was tweaking or not. yet, you stood there, trying to disappear in that moment.

“y/n…you’re here.”

“only to get my things nagi, i’ll be out of your hair in around half an hour.”

nagi. his own name turned his mood sour. he’d much rather you call him by his actual name, or sei, not his last. and you knew that fact very well, making sure he knew damn well you were serious.

you begun to hurriedly walk towards the bedroom, where he was standing by the door, attempting to walk past him as quickly as possible. he intervened however, stepping about halfway into the door so that you were now directly in front of him and couldn’t get past, unless you spoke to him.

“are you really leaving y/n?”

“it’s l/n to you nagi, and yes. you don’t get to say something like that to me and think we’ll be cool after. it’s fucked up.”

you turned so he couldn’t see you, tears beginning to form at the painful recollection of what occurred a few days ago. you didn’t trust yourself to say anything else, for the fear of bursting into tears held you back.

“please don’t leave me y/n, i can do better, i promise. i regret what i said. really badly. i’m— i’m sorry.”

you knew that nagi didn’t like talking as it is (he referred to it as a hassle), so to have him trying to at least communicate with you did mean something. not enough to satiate you though.

“y/n?”

when you didn’t say anything back he lightly tugged your hand and turned you around, eyes widening once he saw tears streaming down your face.

he attempted to console you, wanting to pull you into a hug, but drawing back when you lightly pushed him off you.

“y/n- what’s wrong?”

“i can’t sei, i’m scared. scared you’ll grow bored of me. i don’t know if i’m bothering you or not and it kills me to think that you’d spend more time on games than with me. you basically told me i’m a hassle. how the hell else am i supposed to take that?”

your tears wouldn’t stop pouring down no matter how much you tried to calm yourself down, sniffles loud and clear as day.

something unusual happened to nagi as he watched you cry your eyes out. he felt his heart breaking into tiny shards at your state. more so because he knew it was because of him. he didn’t want to be the cause of your pain. he didn’t want to see you like this, experiencing such distress.

he wrapped his arms around you, one hand shielding your head and pulling your face into his bare chest, where you sobbed some more, letting up all the feelings built up from days prior.

“you’re not a hassle y/n. i said that out of turn. you could never be a hassle to me. while you were gone, i couldn’t even play my games properly. i just slept and trained because i missed you so much and didn’t know what to do without you. i know i’m lazy, and i know i don’t make you feel loved enough, but i do. i love you. i’ll do better for you and i don’t wanna be the reason why you’re upset. so please stop crying, wanna see your pretty face smile for me.”

you smiled into his chest, your sniffles beginning to subside and still.

“thank you sei, i really needed to hear that.”

“i would say it over 100 times for you. it might take a while but i won’t get bored of it. not when it comes to you.”

you wrapped your arms around his broad figure, squeezing tightly.

“will you be my girlfriend again y/n? no one else can reach your level. not now, not ever.”

you let go of his body, instead placing your palms on the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

“of course i will seishiro.”

“good, because i wanna cuddle with my girlfriend.”

☆彡 BAROU SHOUEI

it had been 2 months since you broke up with barou and he was miserable. who would’ve thought you leaving would cause such a rift in his life? his performance in matches were shit, he became pissed off at people more easily, and he was benched more often.

due to him not having someone to talk to, he essentially had no form of a wind down from football, something you were able to give him while you were together. something he had come to miss, and wished he appreciated more.

the lack of your items in the house made your departure all the more apparent. your decorations and items around the apartment were what made the house a home.

and you as a person? what wasn’t to like about you? you were a very levelheaded but gentle person, a great contrast to his fiery, angry personality. you catered to his every need, be it mentally, physically or sexually. your voice was what carried him through his day, soothing him to the bone, calming him down when he needed it. the more he thought about it, the more he realised he made a grave mistake pushing you out. the more he realised just how much he was attached to you, he was just unwilling to acknowledge it.

barou was no pussy, and he had enough of living like this, living without you, so he decided to get you back (and not fuck up this time).

he knew you were most likely staying at your childhood friend, chigiri’s house. he knew him very well, having done the blue lock training program with him years back, and played against him in several matches. he knew where he lived, having gone to parties held at his house through mutual connections.

and so, after practice, he grabbed his car keys and set off. he weren’t good with words, so his mind stayed scrambled as he thought of all the things he could say to you. while he couldn’t think of specific sentences to say to you, his goal remained the same.

after some time passed, he pulled up to chigiri’s house, your car the only one on the drive, which meant that only you were home. he switched off the ignition, stepped out of the car and walked up to the door.

with slight hesitancy, he lifted his fist to the door and knocked three times. he listened for any shuffling inside, but heard none. after a moment he turned away to leave, thinking you might’ve not been there after all. it’s possible you might’ve been out with chigiri in his car. yeah, that was probably it.

however.

“what do you want barou? i thought i was ‘making your life too hard’?”

shit, you were home. your voice was muffled, due to you speaking through the door, having seen his figure through the peephole.

“i- i didn’t mean that. not that way.”

you opened the door, allowing him to see a crack of your figure, donned in shorts and a tank top.

“then how did you mean it barou? don’t take me for an idiot, because i’m not one. no one says anything of that depth if you didn’t feel that exact way before. so before you let anymore bullshit spout from your mouth tell me exactly how you meant it, in what context. because i’m tired barou, tired of being in a relationship where i feel like i’m treading on glass around you because you don’t wanna do certain things. it’s not a nice feeling. you may not feel that way, but i do. i’ve felt that way during our whole relationship, but i feel like i can’t tell you shit so i’ve kept. it. in.”

wow. he really didn’t see things from your perspective. once he heard it from you, he realised just how much of a dickhead he sounded like. he couldn’t say anything, how could he explain himself after that?

he didn’t.

and after hearing no refutation or explanation from barou, you simply let go of any hopes of talking this out with him.

“shouei,” his ears perked at you using his first name. “i think…you should go. i don’t wanna have any hard feelings between us but i don’t think we’re right for each other. please understand and respect tha-”

you stopped short of ending your sentence upon seeing barou turn and leave before he could hear you out, getting back into his car and preparing to drive off.

you sighed, shaking your head and closing the door, effectually ending your relationship for good.

he got what he wanted, right?

☆彡 ITOSHI RIN

you woke up in the morning, immediately panning your vision to your left to see if rin had returned to bed. the bed imprints remained the exact same as you had left it when you fell asleep, which lead you to wonder if rin had even returned home.

you slid out of bed, your feet touching the cold wood floor, you trudged your way through the apartment, looking for signs of life, your shoulders falling in disappointment when you realised rin was nowhere to be seen. it was debatable if he even came home or not, the answer you would probably never find out.

you warred with yourself in your head about what to do. considering rin didn’t even try to talk to you to rectify the situation showed he didn’t really give a shit. if he didn’t come home, then he probably didn’t even know if you came home or not, which meant he isn’t worrying about you or where you were.

you weren’t a dickhead, and waiting for someone who evidently didn’t want you seemed like such a desperate action, which you weren’t trying to act like.

and so, calling a few willing friends, shedding some tears here and there, and half a day of hard work, you had effectively moved out of your shared apartment with rin, leaving a half completed home. he didn’t return home the whole day, not that you gave a shit anymore.

imagine rin’s surprise when he returned home from his team practice, expecting to see you moping around somewhere, but instead, nowhere to be found. as a matter of fact, where the fuck was your stuff? the apartment looked very much empty right now. he took at least 15 minutes to look around, analysing his surroundings, the same he would do during a game. any potted plants you bought for the house, specifically for the living room disappeared. your stupid candle ornaments that somehow made the house look better? not a ghost of a trace left behind. your clothes? gone. even from the laundry basket, only his clothes remained.

your products, your favourite sleeping pillow, even your toothbrush was gone. you left no stone unturned, questionable if you ever lived there in the first place.

still slightly puzzled but somewhat aware of the answer behind all of this, he pulled out his phone, clicking immediately on the message app. he sent you a message, heart dropping and suspicions confirmed when his message was not only green, but displayed a ‘not delivered’ message underneath. you had blocked him, and moved out without his knowledge.

he knew you were pissed off from what had transpired, but he didn’t know you would take action this soon. you didn’t even wait to talk to him for the love of god. this wasn’t supposed to happen this way, he was only angry at you because he felt threatened in the moment. but, recalling just exactly what he said to you, maybe it was warranted.

maybe it was for the best. you barely had enough time together as it is, due to unmatchable schedules and rin always being abroad. he was never able to give you enough love. funny, considering he didn’t even make sure to tell you. looking back on it, he realised he was kind of a dickhead to you.

so, he let go of the relationship for good.

—

four months had passed. he’d gotten bigger as a football player after his team winning a multitude of matches had lead to him becoming their star player, constantly getting man of the match achievements. this lead to his popularity increasing, getting more fans and fame as a result. he had been abroad this whole time, focusing on his career.

oh. but don’t think he had escaped you.

he couldn’t get his mind off you.

you tormented his thoughts daily and nightly, his yearning for you and hate for himself flourishing simultaneously as he repeatedly recalled how he fucked up. he wished he could go back to that night, heeding your warnings.

either way, that couldn’t be achieved now, for he didn’t know your whereabouts. he hadn’t known since that night on the pitch.

he tried to move on the best he could, returning back to japan to visit his parents whilst he had time off from football.

it just so happened one day while he popped out to a grocery store to get ingredients for his mother, the he saw the back of a familiar head, whisking away to the next aisle over. piquing his curiosity, he immediately paced to see if it way really who he thought it was.

and yes, the face he thought he’d never see again, the very same person who had been frequenting his mind,

you.

“y/n!” you froze, not expecting to find him here of all places. last time you had seen on tv, he was abroad. he wasn’t supposed to be here. deciding you had to face the music at some point, you turned around, watching as his demeanour melted, at really seeing you again after so long.

“rin…hi.”

all was silent for a moment, not knowing what to say to each other. what does one say in situations such as these? not to worry, rin answered for you.

“how…how’ve you been?”

“good thanks, how about you?”

“i’ve been— alright.”

silence settled again. rin wanted to voice so many things to you, starting with how he wanted you to know how he’s changed. how he’s calmed down in terms of training. how he’d make more time. he wanted you to know he’d do things differently, if you ever took him back. he wanted you to come home… but he didn’t know where to start.

he would have to at some point however, for you wanted to get away from him as soon as possible.

“well…um, it was good seeing yo-”

“wait!” he interjected, panic settling in that you would disappear and he would never get the chance again. “i— i just wanted to tell you tha—”

“y/n baby, i’ve got the washing powder.”

baby? what the fuck?

he looked just past you to see a guy walking up to you, taking the basket from your hands with a peck to your cheek. you smiled at the action, lacing your hand in his hair as he took place behind you. he then noticed rin, standing there with visible shock on his face, confused on what he missed while he was gone.

“who’s this?”

“oh, just an old friend.” a bold faced lie. anyone with two functioning brain cells could feel the history between you two. “i’ve got my stuff so let’s go to the queue. nice seeing you rin…have a good day.” you walked off with your supposed new boyfriend. a boyfriend that wasn’t him.

have a good day? after you just shattered his heart like that?

his throat turned dry, awareness sinking in.

he wanted you to come home…but he was too late.

baby you sold me a dream pt.3

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wakkass · 6 months

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I usually try to write neutral captions for my ATLA drawings, but this time I want to share my disappointment with this cartoon.

At first it was supposed to be a slight redesign of Katara from book 3. I don't really like her blue dress from there, and I tried to draw certain elements differently to understand what exactly bothered me. I like the result, especially her sleeves and the fabric on her arms. I also wanted to draw a crescent moon on her forehead because book 3 forgot that the Water Tribe paints their faces before battle. I wanted to give Katara something related to her personal experience, so imho she would have a crescent moon on her forehead in the invasion.

And then I started thinking about her hair (I ended up using the hairstyle from this post). It always confused me that in the first episode of season 3 Katara had her signature braid, because she lost her clips at the end of season 2. Where did the new ones come from? Does she have a whole set of spare ones? Or did father give it to her? I don’t understand, so I think that her hairstyle in book 3 could be completely different from the look we are used to.

Then I asked myself: what would she look like in the first episode if her hairstyle had been changed? You can see the answer for yourself. Frayed curls, an almost untied bun, a tired look… This is how I felt about Katara at the beginning of the season and… I was furious.

Why doesn't she look like this? Why wasn't she allowed to show her fatigue? Yes, her clothes are still torn and unkempt, but neither her face nor her hair reflect her condition, why? Were the authors afraid to show that Katara also has limits?

Girls are not required to look beautiful and well-groomed, especially when they are tired. It makes me so angry that after her witnessing the death of a dear friend, escaping on a ship, caring for a sick boy for a long time, and then his screaming and running away, Katara looks the same as always. She is not tired, she is still ready to support the main character and run to the ends of the earth for him.

?!??!

But ok, maybe this is just the beginning, and we'll be shown reaching Katara's limits in the next episo-

…

Oh, she is now completely neat and well-groomed so that the boy can admire her beauty…

It doesn't sound very good, to be honest. I don’t want to insult the ship or the main character, we’re not talking about them now. I'm talking about the very message where the girl is beautiful and mentally stable when it is convenient for the boy. That is, imagine if Katara looked at that moment about the same as in my drawing. Would he like her in this state? I don't know, because I haven't seen Aang admire Katara beyond the peak of her beauty. Also, I didn’t see him admiring her with disheveled hair, for example, or in action scenes. It’s not that it’s the characters’ fault, but rather that the authors rarely allow Katara herself to be like this, especially at the end of the adventure, where she clearly has little moral strength.

Feels like the message is that in a man's eyes, a woman is only beautiful when she dresses up and hides her flaws. As if fatigue is something that needs to be hidden behind a sweet smile and a beautiful outfit.

Maybe I'm not right. Please don't take my words as an insult to something you enjoy, but that is my interpretation of what is happening. This is a problem for me, because the topic of female fatigue in my eyes is as important as female strength. And if the series shows Katara's strength, it seems to ignore her fatigue.

This is just an opinion, I don't claim anything.

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #atla fanart #atla critical #katara #atla katara #katara meta #katara's fatigue #I only remember two episodes dedicated to Katara's fatigue and her moral boundaries #This is “The Desert” and “The Southern Raiders”#A man needs his rest #and Katara is no exception

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veveisveryuncool · 2 months

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kine is based off mola mola sunfish, which are about 6ft in size!!therefore i raise you: mola mola sunbathing party!! (+ the slightly more realistic animal friends :DD)

OKAY i did a lot of research on animals for this one!! feel free to read my notes under the cut 👇

kine: is a mola mola/ocean sunfish, specifically from pacific waters! i'm in love with the idea of this six foot behemoth next to all the tiny creatures of dreamland, and as someone with a crippling obsession with fish, i had to draw him :] pacific mola molas match the distinctive petal-shaped clauvus (not a caudal fin!) that kine has, but don't have a lot of iconic lip action, which is why i tried to make it seem like a... discolored snout? molas are typically one color, and the blue color could seem natural from an angle, so let's pretend that real!kine just has lots of cool barnacles.

coo: is taken from @starflungwaddledee's dusky eagle owl notes! they literally look so much like coo it's insanee + i added the stripes to his wings. finding the bird-to-cartoon ratio was kinda hard actually 😭 birds are hard to draw what

rick: is based on a golden hamster (aka syrian hamster)!!! he's exactly the type of hamster you think of when you think of a normal hamster. golden hamsters are technically one of the largest hamsters, but still only stand at about 7 inches— so i decided to use his cartoon logic to keep him somewhat relative to coo

chuchu: SHE'S A FLAPJACK OCTOPUS SHE'S LITERALLY A FLAPJACK OCTOPUS!!!! scientists actually wanted to name the species "adorabilis" and just look them up please they're so cute!!! you can tell that DL3 character designers had flapjack octopi on their minds when they designed her. their fins look similar to a bow, and i obviously couldn't get rid of that, so i gave her both :]]

nago: is a calico cat. he's not overly cartoonish in his game design in regards to how he looks as a cat— he is undeniably a cat. i let my middle school warrior cats obsession take over for that one. calicos are almost always female, so i also raise you trans nago 🫶

pitch: resembles a warbling white eye, according to wikirby. i tend to draw him similar to one anyways, thanks to adeleine's slightly more realistic drawings in the DL3 credits. he's definitely also been sized up to fit in with the rest of the cast, since a 4-inch bird wouldn't exactly be visible.

thanks for listening to my rambles about animals!! i tried to keep a good mix between realism and video game designs just for kicks and giggles, hopefully it doesn't fall into a weird uncanny valley haha :] ✌️

#honestly. i am terrified of molas. would scream if i saw one. anything bigger than a pleco would scare me irl #this is why i stick to fishtank sized fishies lmao #i hope i did my animal research right! pulled up a crap ton of references for these lol (i was the animal facts kid)#kirby series #kirby #veves ultra cool art #kine the fish #rick the hamster #coo the owl #chuchu kirby #pitch kirby #nago the cat #bandana waddle dee #gooey kirby #yeah 😎 i tagged them all #spent a week working on these my pencil is dead

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junniieesbby · 8 months

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Where The Fuck Are They? |Choi Yeonjun

Pairing: Idol Yeonjun x F!reader

Genre: Established Relationship, Smut, Kind of Fluff.

WC: 1.6K

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Summary: You try to tease your idol boyfriend at a music Festival by leaving your panties in his pocket. Only he gets angry when he finds out and your plan backfires on you and he does all the teasing.

Warning: Mentions of alcohol, and food. Smut with a plot. Lots of pet names (baby, good girl, princess, pretty), slight Brat/Brat-tamer. Calling Yeonjun Sir. Ass grabbing.Female getting fingered. Slight Edging. Hickies, somewhat of agoraphilia except its just fingering in a public place. Mentions of fucking.Degradation. Mentions of oral (Female receiving). I think that is about it. I don't know if I missed any. Let me know if I did!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Nothing mentioned in this fiction represents any of the characters.

A/N: Have had this thought written down since the Lollapalooza and finally got around to writing it and posting it. This is also part of @majestyjun's 24 days with yeonjun birthday event! 💗I hope you guys enjoy reading this and thank you to all who were interested in it prior I made sure to tag you. 🫶🏼

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Music festivals were always something you looked forward to attending. This year was extra special because your boyfriend would be performing as a headliner at one of the biggest music festivals, Lollapalooza. To say you were proud was an understatement; you were so happy to see him achieve all his goals and reach his dreams one day at a time. To watch him perform at Lollapalooza last year and to see that he would be headlining this year really made you the proudest girlfriend.

The festival grounds were alive with all the excitement, vibrant colors, the aroma of festival food, and, of course, the smell of booze. Yeonjun and you have decided to enjoy the festival and see Kendrick Lamar's performance. You were wearing a short skirt with a white crop top, your red heart chucks converse, black choker, and jewelry. Underneath all of that, you had put on Yeonjun’s favorite lingerie set.

As you are walking around holding hands with your boyfriend, you have a very risky and exciting idea, but you aren’t sure whether to go through with it. After some time, you decided to just do it and see where this crazy thought of yours would lead you. You went on your tippy toes to kiss Yeonjun on the cheek, letting him know you would be using the bathroom. His face kind of scrunched up in confusion because he knew you hated public restrooms, especially festival ones, but didn’t pay much attention to it. Little did he know that all you wanted to do was put your plan into action. You stepped into the bathroom and wanted to do this as quickly as possible. You took your lace panties off, scrunched them up, and left the bathroom to find him standing there waiting for you. You went close to him, and he put an arm around your shoulder to lead you through the crowd. You had a habit of placing your hand in his back pocket, and you did exactly that, ensuring your panties were safe in his pocket.

As the sun began to set, Yeonjun took you to the stage where Kenderick Lamar would be performing. "Are you excited to see his performance, baby?" He whispers in your ear while bringing his arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest, and resting his chin on your shoulder. "I am excited, but I’m more excited to see your performance. I know you will rock your performance like always." You tell him while turning your head and leaving a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, baby. I know I can do anything with you in the crowd." He squeezes the hold he has on you tighter, showing his affection through his touch.

The whole time you were watching the performance, you were playing with your shoe laces to get them to untie so you could move your plan along. Once it got really dark outside and everyone was too busy enjoying the performance and their alcohol, you knew it was now or never. Your shoelace was successfully untied. “Jjun, my shoelace is untied; could you tie it for me, please? My skirt is kind of short. Otherwise, I would do it myself." You whisper in his ear. “Sure, baby, anything for you." He moves in front of you and goes on his knee to tie your shoe. As he finishes and gets up, he glances over to see your pussy out in the open. The only thing covering it was your short skirt.

He didn’t want to make anything noticeable, so he got up and went into the same position he was in earlier, with his hands around your waist and his face buried in the crook of your neck. He left a kiss right below your earlobe and whispered "Where are they?" You knew exactly what he was referring to, but you wanted to play dumb. "Where is what, baby?" You asked him with an innocent tone. "Don’t fucking play dumb; where the fuck are your panties?" You loved to get on his nerves. “Oh, those things? Silly me, I think I lost them." You started grinding your ass on his half hard length.

He then held your hips in place so you would no longer grind your ass on him. To him, two could play this game, and he sure as hell wanted to win. "I will ask you one last time, where are your fucking panties?" He tells you as he gets ahold of one of your cheeks and squeezes it until you let out a yelp. "In your back pocket, Jjunnie, in your back pocket," you quickly tell him. He reached in his pocket and grabbed your panties and gave them to you while whispering, "Put them back on." You could not believe him. "No," you cross your arms, pouting. "Stop being such a brat and put them on," he whispers once again. "No, I don’t feel like it." The moment those words left your mouth, he quickly shoved the panties in his back pocket again. "Alright, you want to act like a brat; prepare to be treated like one." He starts to roam his hands all over your body.

"Mmmh, what will you do about it, sir?" you asked him seductively. He felt his dick twitch in his pants at your name for him. He thought he would just show you what brats like you get and deserve. He knew in no time you would be begging for his cock, which he had every intention of keeping away from you for as long as possible.

He wrapped his left hand around your waist, pulling you closer to him, which earned him a soft moan from you. He looked around to see everyone paying attention to the artist before he brought his right hand under your skirt and separated your soaking wet folds. "My whore is really wet for me, isn’t she?" he says, inserting two fingers in while his thumb rubs at your clit. You wanted to say something so bad, but you knew once you spoke, a moan would come out instead, and you didn’t want random people to notice the naughty behavior going around them. To anyone else, you both looked like a couple being cozy together. You thanked alcohol for making everyone around you too buzzed to notice.

His fingers were going painfully slow, and he was sucking hickies into your neck. "Sir, fast- faster, please," you begged him as he continued his slow pace. "Only good girls get what they want." His husky voice makes your arousal expand. You slowly started to grind on his hand, but he knew your motive. He quickly pinches your clit causing you to stop your movement.

He dove his fingers inside of you, this time moving faster than before and you were in true bliss. "Don't make a fuckin sound okay; be my good girl and stay quiet," he continues finger-fucking you. All you did was nod as he increased his pace. You were biting your lip to stop yourself from becoming a moaning mess underneath his touch. You were so close that your walls started to clench around his fingers, and just as you were about to go into a euphoric state, he pulled his fingers out. He grabbed your chin, turned your head to look at him, and put his fingers in his mouth, licking your juices clean.

You were in pure and utter shock that he did not just stop right before you were going to come. You wanted so badly to wipe that smug smile off his face, but you knew you were the reason you were in this state. All you could do was turn in his arms and kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue. "Sir, why did you stop? I was being a good girl like you asked" you said, looking at him with puppy eyes. "Good girls don’t take their panties off mid-festival and place them in their boyfriend's pocket." He grabs both ass cheeks while looking down at you with a smirk.

You wanted to tell him he could fuck off, but knowing him, he wouldn’t fuck you for the whole week if you did. "Jjun, please make me feel good again. Please fuck me. I need you so badly." You decided to plead with him. One thing about Yeonjun was that he couldn’t deny his princess anything. Whatever his princess wanted, she would get it. He especially couldn't tell her no when she looked at him with such pleading eyes that it made his cock harder than a rock. "How about this princess, You be good for the rest of the festival, and Sir will fuck your brains out how you like. I will fuck you so good that you might need me to carry you for the next few days. Maybe eat that sweet pussy of yours until you come all over my mouth. Just be my good, pretty girl for a little longer so I can reward you. Mmm, how does that sound? '' He started stroking your ass while looking at you with lust and hunger.

"I would love that very much, baby." You stand on your tippy toes to plant a kiss on his lips. With him being hard and impatient, it didn't take long for him to just grab you, take you back to the hotel room, and fuck you into next week.

Taglist: @hanniejie @boba-beom @lovejoshua @yo-yo-yeonjun @ttyunz @choistick @kazscara @love-be0m @xenkimmie @toiletfeet68 @txt-yaomi @mochijjunie @ariam-96 @hyukasbestie @takemehye @nightlytyuns and @robin-obsessed @baljinciaga (I thought you might want to see this) ♥︎

If you are interested in being in my permanent txt taglist please go here and fill the form out.

if you are reading this look at my last # for a little something!

#24 days with jjunie !!#yeonjun smut #yeonjun hard hours #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun hard thoughts #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun x fem reader #yeonjun one shot #yeonjun imagine #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt oneshots #txt imagines #txt scenarios #mdni #minors do not interact #pt.2 maybe tomorrow? lets see how many people catch this.

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giyuji · 2 years

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GIVING THEM A HICKEY!

ft. satoru gojo, ryomen sukuna, yuta okkotsu, megumi fushiguro, toge inumaki & yuji itadori.

cw. cursing, suggestive content, aged-up characters, female reader.

#𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 — as soon as he feels your lips trailing downwards, from his jaw to the crook of his neck, a huge grin crawls on his lips. he knows what’s coming, and he absolutely loves it. will even tilt his neck in such a way that it gives you more access to his throat—the more red and purple marks you stick to the pale flesh, the better. bite him a bit, will you? it’ll have the blood rush straight to his crotch. don’t be scared, go harder, rougher, use his neck as your personal canvas. in fact, why stop there? he has even more space for your marks on his chest. go on, decorate his abs. what’s that? it’s full? no matter, satoru has a beautiful pair of thighs all for you to use to your heart’s desire. do be warned, though. he will not cover them in any way. so, if you happen to go to the beach the day after, and you don’t want others to see your handiwork, well, guess you will have to keep your hands (and mouth) to yourself. satoru will never cover the hickeys you give him. why would he, when you gave them with so much love? important meeting with the higher-ups the next day? he couldn’t care less. he’s not wearing a high-collar. fuck, no. use him as you wish, he’ll gladly carry your lovebites and proudly show them off. and when they start to fade? you best believe he’ll be ready for you to add new ones.

#𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 — look at you. comedian of the year. did you really think you’d be able to give the king of curses a hickey? that he wouldn’t yank your hair back as soon as he feels your mouth open against the skin of his neck? stupid girl. you’re his to mark, not the other way around. your bravery amuses him, the sheer audacity of it bringing him a form of entertainment so big that it prevents him from scolding you. instead he shows you how it should be. when he’s done, your poor, bruised body will be littered with marks—and not just in the form of hickeys. while your throat will be decorated in pretty dark red and purple colours, your cute little ass will carry his bright red handprints. your hips are now stained with the indent of his fingers, and you could swear there was an actual bite mark decorating your thigh. sukuna knows control, but very little of it he uses on you. you were his to do with as he pleased, and this is exactly what you deserve after making such a silly attempt. in what world would it ever be right for you to mark him? it obviously should be the other way around. you know that now. though, when the marks he left start to fade, you briefly entertain the thought of trying your reckless action again. no, no, you would never...right?

#𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀 𝐎𝐊𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐒𝐔 — receiving one of your lovebites is a double-edged sword to him. while he absolutely loves the feel of it, especially when you’re straddling his lap, tits squished against his chest, and lips suckling on a piece of flesh. his fingers dig into your ass as he fights off the blush rising to his cheeks, all while praying you don’t notice the way his pants tighten considerably underneath you. you do, but you’re sweet and don’t comment on it. he hates the repercussions they bring, though. because while the marks reminded him of the love you brought him, they were also a source of relentless teasing. particularly at the hands of maki. it’s not as if he doesn’t try to cover them up! because he does! he tries so hard. but somehow he always fails :( always ends up with his collar slipping down and revealing the discoloured skin :( poor thing isn’t he? it’s not as if you pull down his shirt a little every time you come give him a hug & kiss goodbye before class. right? right? of course not, that would be ridiculous. ok, maybe you do, but your yuta was prettiest with his cheeks dusted pink! do you feel sorry? sometimes. but that guilt quickly washes away when he comes back to you, offering his neck once again. maki’s teasing long forgotten.

#𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 — a bad actor. and an even worse liar. will scold you when your nose bumps against his neck, will scoff when he feels your lips press a kiss to the column of his throat, and will grumble when he feels you carefully nip the skin with your teeth. but never will he make an effort to get you off him. never will he try to push you away, to have you halt your movements. megumi lets you do as you wish, never taking your hand off his cheek as you use it to settle yourself before going to work. he’ll complain, he’ll grouch, he’ll bitch about—but make no mistake, megumi fushiguro loves getting marked by you. a pink blush settles on his cheeks as you do, and his hands clench into fists as he does everything he can to avoid your eyes. your eyes that he knows are filled with smugness, shining with mischief, shimmering with the knowledge that despite his protests he would rather die than have you stop right now. so, go ahead. litter his pretty neck with fiery red hickeys. put your mark wherever you want. far away from prying eyes, in full sight; it doesn’t matter. megumi knows how to hide them well. and knowing that underneath those clothes, red-ish marks reside, marks that you left on him, and marks that only the two of you know about, is more than enough fuel for him to seek you out again once they start to fade. megumi loves your hickeys. but you’ll never hear him say it.

#𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 — the fact that you love him enough to mark him is worth more to him than anything else in the world. his eyes light up each time your fingers delicately cup his jaw, slightly pushing it aside so you can start nipping at his earlobe, down and along his jaw and finally settling across his collarbone. loves the way you nibble on his pale skin, the way you take it between your teeth and tug slightly to get the pretty dark colour you’re aiming for. toge indulges in your hickeys as much as he can, and will look at them in the mirror each time he passes one (if he’s alone, of course). doesn’t even care when or where you put them! his collar is up higher than any other person’s anyway, so nobody would even notice. it’s just something the two of you share, something safe, something exciting and something comforting. when the marks start to fade? he’ll be on you immediately. won’t directly tell you what he needs, won’t even tap his neck to convey it. instead, he’ll get clingy; playing with your fingers, pressing kisses to your nose, pinching the apples of your cheeks. you get the hint eventually. please mark him. as much as you can.

#𝐘𝐔𝐉𝐈 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈— loves loves loves getting a lovebite, the suction of it feels so nice to him and the fact that it’s you putting the cute little mark there is even better. will be all smiley and happy when you do it, soft chuckle and blissful sighs tumble past his lips. his fingers are in your hair as he holds you against him. you’ll pull back when he allows you to, and not a second sooner. yuji has a specific amount of hickeys he wants you to leave each time your face finds the familiar hiding place in his neck. and while he could tell you it, he greatly prefers to hear your cute giggle when he pushes your head back, muttering about how you’re ‘not done yet.’ he never tells you how many you still have to go after that. be a good girlfriend and stop when he tells you, yeah? will also absolutely forget you put them there the day after. especially if he’s late for something such as a mission or a class. throws his clothes on in a haste, not paying much mind to the purple blotches on his neck and collarbone. you do, though. and so does nobara. and you’re pretty sure even megumi is giving you two the side-eye. yuji doesn’t care tho. he’s happy, happy and all marked up. will only scratch the back of his neck for a few seconds, a sheepish smile on his lips, before he goes on with his day.

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

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Self Control.

Javi keeps refusing himself what he wants. One night puts everything into perspective.

Pairing - Javier Peña x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, mentions of blood and death

Word Count - 3429

Author's Note - hello lovely people, hope you're all well. i've been a huge fan of pedro pascal since his narcos days, so all of this love for him happening currently is making me very happy. javier peña is perhaps my favourite tv character of all time, so i'm very excited to share this story with you. i'd always love to write more javi stuff, so if you ever have any thoughts, please send them my way. i'm happy to write for all pedro characters actually!! as always, much love x

Masterlist. Requests.

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

It was supposed to be simple. A routine raid. Get the information and go.

How did it all go so wrong?

Gunshots. Blood. A sea of green uniforms scattering the ground. Escobar had somehow known about it. He was taking no prisoners.

The Search Bloc had lost men. The Colombian Police had lost men. You were just praying that you hadn't.

Javier Peña and Steve Murphy were still out there. You had no idea if they were okay. They could be shot, bleeding out. Kidnapped. Or worse.

No.

You're driving yourself insane thinking of all the possible worse case scenarios. Your mind can't help but go there. It's instinct.

You're sat waiting. Hoping. Praying. You've made your home at Javi and Steve's desks - they're more central to the action than your own. You're watching the front doors, sat in Javi's chair. It smells like cigarette smoke, and musk, and him. You let the familiar scent envelope you, allowing it to bring you comfort. You breathe him in. He'll be here soon. You know he will.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Javier Peña was a complicated man. An enigma. He was tough, but gentle. Rugged, but tender. Commanding, but reserved. He was one big juxtaposition. Impossible to read.

Or so he thought.

You came along, and challenged every single one of his existing beliefs. You turned him soft - more understanding, more empathetic. He'll tell you he hates it. He lies.

You weren't supposed to be here. Not really. You'd followed your brother, a DEA agent, all the way from Texas to Colombia. He'd told you he was being sent to South America to assist with the Pablo Escobar situation, and you'd packed your bags without a second thought. You had no one else. Wherever he goes, you go. Except one place.

He'd died two months into the job. Shot dead by Escobar's men, in a situation that he shouldn't have even been in. And all of a sudden, you were alone. Alone in an unfamiliar place. Alone in the world.

Javier made sure that wasn't true. He took you under his wing like an injured baby bird, slowly but surely nursing you back to health. He'd been there, when Carrillo had told you the fate of your brother. He'd caught you in his arms when your knees had given out, held you like he was scared you were going to shatter into a thousand pieces. He was holding you together. He has been, ever since.

You were just a secretary. The odd one out. The only woman. Looked down on. People pitied you, really. You heard the things they said. Even if you didn't understand, you heard. You could take a guess.

The world was a terrifying place for a woman. It was a terrifying place in general. But it seemed to be less scary knowing that Javier and Steve were at their desks just across the precinct every day. Your safety blankets. Your protectors. Which is exactly why the thought of losing either of them was currently ripping you apart from the inside out.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Your eyes shot up every time the door opened. Slowly but surely, members of the Search Bloc filtered in - many of them bloody, and injured, but alive. You weren't taking your eyes off the entrance to the precinct. Not for a second. Not when any minute, Peña and Murphy could walk in, and everything would be okay again. Any minute now, you reassure yourself. Any minute now.

You hear steel toe boots on the linoleum floor, and your breath hitches… but it’s Colonel Carrillo. He spots you from across the room and strides over, ignoring any pleas for his attention from the Search Bloc guys. He envelopes you in a hug - professionalism be damned.

“Are you okay?”, you ask when he pulls back. “What happened? I’ve been going insane listening over the radio.”

“I’m okay, mi amor. We’re still trying to figure out what went wrong. He knew, someone had to have told him.”

You’re just about to ask him about Murphy and Peña when he says,

“We got separated in the chaos. I don’t know where they are, but I’m sure they’re fine. Try not to panic, okay?”

He’s looking at you carefully, and you’re nodding, but you know you aren’t going to take his advice. If anything, now you’re panicking more. Men are filtering through the door every minute, but none of them are the two you’re looking for. Anxiety creeps into your stomach, wraps its claws around your insides. You can’t shake it. You feel like you’re being swallowed by dread - it’s all too familiar. You know exactly what it’s like to have someone you love go into the field and not return.

Carrillo strokes your cheekbone with his thumb gently, and leaves to attend to his men. You sit back down in Javi’s chair, trying to burrow into his scent, the warmth of the leather. You can imagine his big strong arms wrapping themselves around you, the way he nuzzles his nose into the crown of your head when he hugs you, how he traces patterns on your back when he holds you when you’re particularly upset.

You think about Steve, and the way he winks at you when you catch eye contact across the room, or how he throws an arm around your shoulders whenever he sidles over to your desk to bother you. He’s always stealing candy from your top drawer, and then acting innocent when you call him out on it. You feign annoyance, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You know you’re lucky to have the two of them looking out for you. You know you’re lucky to have Carrillo on your side too - life would be undoubtedly more difficult without his protection. They make you feel less vulnerable, more equal. You no longer feel like a lamb at the slaughter every time you walk into work.

Drops of water hit your lap, and you realize you’re crying. Warm, wet tears slide down your cheeks, taking streaks of your mascara with them. Your lipstick has smudged where you’ve been peeling at the skin of your lips, and your nail polish has been incessantly picked at for hours. You know you look just as much of a mess on the outside as you feel on the inside. You close your eyes, and take a deep breath. Calm down, you tell yourself. You’d know if something bad had happened to them. You’d feel it.

It’s as if time has become molten - sticky, warm molasses. Minutes feel like hours. The world is moving in slow motion, and it’s making you dizzy. Your breath is coming in short, sharp pants, and the urge to curl up into a ball grows stronger by the second. If the boys don’t show up soon, you’re convinced you’re going to crumble into a thousand pieces. You feel like you’re shattering, splitting apart at the seams. Fear sits on your chest like an ugly, relentless creature, choking you with each passing minute. The world is getting colder, darker, and you’re defenseless.

And just like that, your sun appears. Battered, bruised, bloody, but alive. Standing in the doorway, panting and breathless, is Javier Peña. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re leaping out of his chair, and practically running to close the distance between you. You collide with the solid mass of a man, and he wraps his arms around you like it’s second nature. He smells like cigarettes and musk and gunpowder and the outdoors and smoke and home. Relief fills your body, and the weight of it almost knocks you off your feet. You settle further into his chest like you belong there, pressing your nose into him and inhaling.

You pull away, and notice that his chest is damp. The tears from before are back with a vengeance, sprinting their way down your cheeks, forming puddles wherever they can reach. You’re not sure if you’re crying due to happiness, or fear, or relief - perhaps a mixture of all three. You’re both still panting, looking at each other in disbelief. You fist your hands into the front of his shirt, as if to ground yourself to him. Checking he’s real. In the flesh.

“Don’t cry, cariño. I’m here. I’m okay. We’re okay.”

He’s murmuring quietly to you, as if you’re the only two people in the room. He reaches out, and gently uses his thumbs to swipe away the tears that are still escaping. Cradling your face in his big, calloused hands, he looks at you earnestly.

“I’ll always come back, bonita. You know I will. Just like I promised.”

He presses his forehead to yours, and for the first time in hours, you relax. You stay pressed together like that for what feels like an eternity, until you hear familiar footsteps approaching.

You break away from Javier to get a good look at Steve. He too is battered and bruised - hair mussed, shirt torn, blood staining his jeans and his hands. But he’s alive. That’s all that matters.

“Murphy,” you breathe, before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You’d go out there and take down Escobar yourself if you could. If it meant you didn’t have to see your friends in pain anymore. This job is killing you all from the inside out, slowly but surely. You’re all shells of yourselves. You wonder how much longer you’re all going to be able to cope before you snap. You have a feeling that these two men in front of you are closer to their breaking points than you think.

“God, I need to shower. I’ve never sweat this much in my life,” Steve remarks, and now that you’re looking at him, you can’t help but agree. You nod, smirk etched on your face, and the corners of his lips turn up. A slight smile from Steve. That’s a win.

A voice rumbles from behind you in response to Murphy’s statement. Jesus, Javi was closer to you than you thought.

“Yeah, me too. You go. I’ll drive her home.” He places a hand on the small of your back, and you can feel the warmth of him seeping through his palm. He always runs so hot, you think to yourself. Your sun.

Murphy squeezes your arm and heads out the door, leaving you and Javier standing in the middle of the precinct. Everyone seems to be heading home, the room becoming increasingly quiet. You figure the two of you should follow suit. You gesture at Javi to give you a minute, and make your way over to the Colonel’s office, popping your head in the doorway.

“You should go home, Carrillo,” you say softly. “You need to sleep just as much as the rest of us.”

He smiles at you tentatively, his face dampened with worry. You can see clear as day that he’s blaming himself for the events of the evening. You also know that there’s nothing you can say to make it better.

“I will, querida. I will.”

And with that, you grab your things from your desk, and make your way over to where Javi is waiting for you. He returns his hand to the small of your back, and guides you to his car.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Your hands are shaking when you try to unlock the front door to your apartment. You can’t quite get the key in the lock, and it’s becoming frustrating. Why are you acting like you were the one being shot at tonight? All you had to do was sit at your desk and wait. Get a grip, you tell yourself. You’ve had it the easiest.

Javi can see you’re struggling, so he reaches out and opens the door for you. You step inside, immediately kicking off your heels and throwing down your purse. You turn on the lamp in the corner of the living room, and draw the blinds. All the while, Javi stands in the doorway, watching you complete your nightly rituals. It’s disarming to see you like this, he thinks. So domestic. So at peace.

He clears his throat awkwardly, and places his hand on the doorknob.

“Let me leave you alone, cariño. You need to rest. The adrenaline of tonight is going to wear off any minute, and we’re all gonna crash.”

He takes a step, but you lunge forward in his direction to stop him.

“Wait! Wait. I - I don’t… I can’t - please.” You can’t find the right words. In fact, you’re not even sure what you’re asking for.

He steps back inside your apartment, and shuts the door behind him gently, making sure to lock the deadbolt. He’s never been a man to take stupid chances when it comes to your safety. When it comes to you.

“What is it, mi amor?”, he asks carefully. “What do you need?”

“You,” you answer without a second thought. “Please don’t leave. I don’t think I’ll sleep tonight if you leave.”

He looks at you for a moment - carefully surveying. He takes in your appearance, the pain in your eyes, the way you look so small and fearful standing in front of him. It’s not even a question.

He kicks off his boots, and takes his wallet and his cigarettes out from the back pocket of his jeans, placing them on the counter. Then, he strides over, across the room, and smothers you in a hug that he’s convinced he probably needs more than you.

You stand like that, embraced in each other, for what feels like forever. Two people breathing each other in, trying to absorb the other person. If you could crawl into Javier’s chest, bury yourself into his ribcage, you would. No hug is ever close enough. Never enough. It’s never enough.

“I’ll stay,” he murmurs into your hair. “I’ll always stay.”

You pull back to gaze into those big brown eyes, warm and sweet like chocolate. He looks serene, peaceful, almost. You don’t get to see him like this very often.

“You should shower,” you tell him quietly. You’re worried that you’re going to spook one another, so you both keep the volume to a minimum. “I’ll make us some tea.”

He nods gently, and makes his way to your bathroom. Moments later, you hear the water running, so you begin to boil the kettle, reaching for two mugs from your cabinet.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You place a mug of tea on each nightstand either side of your bed, and slip out of your skirt and blouse. You opt for a tank top and shorts - the Colombian heat still unrelenting, even in the early hours of the morning. The sun will be up soon, you think. A new day.

Javi stands in the doorway of your bathroom with a towel slung low on his hips. Droplets of water are journeying down his chest, and your eyes follow, as if on instinct. He smirks when he catches you, watching your face heat up slightly.

“Cute bedsheets,” he remarks. “I like the love hearts.”

He’s still smirking, so you get up to smack him on the arm.

“Shut up, Javier,” you threaten, with no real malice. “Your tea is on the nightstand.”

You turn your back when he changes back into his black boxers, which only amuses him further. He can’t help but admire you from his place across the room. The way your hair blows slightly with the breeze from the opened window, the band of skin between where your tank top ends and your shorts begin, the sweat at the nape of your neck. He knows you’d taste like salt and sugar simultaneously. It takes everything in him not to run his tongue up your spine. You shiver from your spot on the edge of the bed, as if you can read his mind.

“I’m dressed, querida,” he almost whispers. You turn around, and shamelessly let your eyes rake over his golden skin, wishing so badly to reach out and touch him. He’s wearing significantly less clothes than you expected. Not that you’re complaining.

He lays down carefully on one side of your bed, stretching himself out on his back. You turn off the lamp on the nightstand, and lay down on the other side, careful to keep some distance between the two of you. You thought that having him here would relax you, but it seems to be doing the opposite. You feel like your nerve endings are on fire - the room is too warm, you can’t seem to get your lungs to fill with air, you’re hyper aware of every little movement in the room. You’re on edge.

Javi’s breathing is deep, calculated. He’s trying to keep calm. Everything in him is screaming to reach out and touch you, to throw an arm around your waist, to tangle his legs in between yours. He’s not sure he’s ever shown this level of self control.

“Javi,” you breathe. “Relax, please. I can feel how tense you are from here.”

He takes a deep breath before he answers you.

“Sorry, mi vida. I’m just - I’m… I’m trying.”

“Trying?”

“Trying to use every inch of restraint that I have.”

Your breath hitches, and he hears it, clear as day.

“What for?” you whisper.

“To resist the urge to touch you.”

You’re breathing quicker now, and so is he. The air in the room is thick with tension - it’s a miracle you’re both still conscious.

“You’ve never really been one to deny yourself of the things you want, Javi," you whisper. "You’re not usually the patron saint of self control.”

And with that, he snaps. He grabs your hips, and uses effortless strength to pull you so you’re straddling him, settled in his lap. He sits up to bring your faces level, and presses his forehead into yours, just like he did mere hours ago in the precinct.

You know that tonight has changed everything for the two of you. You also know there’s no going back from this - you can’t uncross this line. The friendship that exists between you and Javi, a relationship that’s been so carefully built on trust and support and boundaries - permanently altered if you continue. You just can’t seem to find it in you to care. Not really. You want Javier Peña for all he is, all he has. Consequences be damned.

“I love you, cariño,” he breathes into your mouth. “Fuck, I love you.”

You’re convinced that any minute, you’re going to wake up from this beautiful dream. But for now, you make the most of it.

“I love you, Javier Peña. I love you so much it hurts.”

And with that, he’s kissing you. It’s desperate, and it’s needy, and it’s so full of love you’re worried that you’re going to pass out. His lips are on your lips, and he’s got one hand firmly at the nape of your neck, holding you in place. As if I’m going anywhere, you think. I’d happily stay here forever.

You’re so lost in each other that you don’t notice the sunrise. Dawn hits the window, casting an orange hue across the room. Javi looks like he’s glowing, the sunlight glinting off his hair. Golden boy.

He pulls off your shirt, and presses his chest to yours. He’s convinced you’re tethered to each other - he can feel the connection through your skin. It almost makes him want to cry, this feeling. It’s never felt like this before. It never will again.

You wrap your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist, ensuring that there isn’t a centimeter of space between you. You don’t know what today holds. You know it won’t be easy. But you’re comforted by the fact that you know Javi will be right there beside you. No matter what happens from this moment on, Javi is always going to be right there beside you.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you breathe into his mouth.

“I love you, mi alma,” he breathes back. “Mi corazón, mi alma.”

My heart, my soul. It’s as if he took the words right out of your mouth.

Mi corazón, mi alma.

My heart, my soul.

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celaenaeiln · 7 months

Note

Absolutely agree with your post. My friend once told me something like “it’s interesting to see how there are a lot of narratives within dick grayson’s stories that can be read as metaphors of rejection of someone’s autonomy—which is many times it happens towards/explored in female characters, e.g the robin mantle being ‘ripped away’ from him without his consent, his should have been ‘fate’ as talon, a tool for CoO” and when you add it with his canonical SA and the many times he gets objectified, another thing that media throughout the times write happened to/explored in female characters, it further cements the point of him occupying the (traditional) female character role.

OG post in reference

Thank you!!! Those are all excellent points to bring up!

You guys did a fantastic job of identifying core examples of where Dick is written for the female role. Every time I read him, I'm amazed time and time again how beautifully DC has written him. He's undeniably written as a man but he's unique in the way his characteristics overwhelmingly reflect typical female personality traits and his entire life story is written as if he were a woman. The relationships he has with people, he always subtly ends up in the female role.

Take the scene of him being objectified -

JLA/Titans Issue #3

This is exactly what it's like to be catcalled.

It's humiliating, uncomfortable, and scary. It needs to be addressed.

But here's where I oppose fandom's view on this. Fandom basically blames DC for scenarios like this where Dick is being harassed by other characters for his beauty or suggesting that Dick somehow encourages this behavior, but I think we should restructure our outlook.

Dick being objectified should be considered as one of his trauma's like his SA is. Like the way Jason death affected him, Stephanie's death affected her, or the way Tim's depression did him, Dick's constant sexual objectification should be analyzed as part of canon problem because it's relates to once again to how women feel in these exact situations. Note the way he is uncomfortable - the writers know what they're doing. They know it's wrong and if they're bringing up his reluctance time and time again, then this should be explored not as a fault of DC but as a problem he's forced to face.

DC uses Dick as a soundboard to broadcast the issues women face in a way that wouldn't be as problematic as if they did with other major female characters. Because doing such things to female characters is a little too political for a comic book and a corporate company so they take liberties through Dick instead. Some of the times they've written him seem intentional and other times it seems unintentional, but even with the way the later is written, it's because they're following Dick's standard characterization which was written to be the balance between men and women.

Another major, MAJOR point you bring up is autonomy.

Autonomy is the essence of his character.

Quick definition: autonomy is the right to self-govern. This means you're in control of your own actions, beliefs, and HERE IT IS - Freedom to do what you wish to.

From the moment Dick and Bruce started fighting, the problem with their relationship boiled down to one thing and one thing only. Freedom.

Given my other Bruce and Dick posts, I've mentioned how Bruce felt an increasing need for control over Dick while Dick felt increasingly furious at his freedom being taken away.

Even Azrael when he lost it for a moment. Batman!Dick

Batman (1940) Issue #709

Another point: For Bruce, all his enemies want him to break. They want him to turn evil but for Dick's, his enemies always want to him to follow them.

Yet the fact that Dick faces all this and continually fights this - he's girlbossing so hard.

That's why I like Dick so much. He breaks the gender roles. Because breaking gender roles isn't just painting your nails pink and saying you respect women. No. It means playing the traditional role of men and women both.

A man's typical role is strength, power, and competitiveness.

A woman's typical role is vulnerability, empathy, and intutition.

But Dick? Dick is one of the strongest fighters in all of DC, he's considered the best leader, and he's so brilliant he always wins his fights. But at the same time, he cries when he's heartbroken. He cares for children that aren't his own and citizens he doesn't know. He anticipates the emotions of his family and friends and loves them for who they are.

That's also a core difference between Bruce's treatment of the batfamily vs Dick's. Where Bruce rages at their disobedience and differences, Dick accepts them and encourages them. Another why Bruce is viewed as the father role of the family while Dick is viewed in the mother context. Evidence of this is pretty clear in Red Robin Issues #23 - 26 with the way Dick treats Tim vs the way Bruce treats him.

DC made Dick pretty on purpose and they wrote him like a woman on purpose while building him up as a man.

I'll iterate agin, he was built to fight male toxic masculinity and we should be looking at him through those lens. He's a complex, deep character that was meant to break gender roles by embodying both male and female characteristics and that's beauty of him.

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #azrael #batfamily #thanks for the ask!#cl anon asks

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all-mirth-no-matter · 5 months

Text

Time After Time | Chapter Thirteen

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: A significant death shakes up the Shelby household just as you find your way back inside. That events and those after make you start to wonder if now is the time to finally listen to Madam Despoina.

Warning: character death, language, yelling

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 13: Ghost

I like the sad eyes, bad guys, mouth full of white lies. Kiss me in the corridor, but quick to tell me goodbye. You say that you're no good for me, ‘cause I'm always tugging at your sleeve. And I swear I hate you when you leave. I like it anyway. — Ghost, Halsey

Coming back to the Shelby household wasn’t exactly what you expected. Best case scenario, you expected to be greeted warmly by Polly or Ada; worst case, you expected to have the door immediately slammed in your face by Tommy himself.

Instead, when you knocked on the door, little Katie greeted you.

John’s oldest daughter’s eyes widened and a smile spread across her face when she recognized you, “You’re back!”

She grabbed your hand and pulled you inside as you used your foot to close the door behind you to keep out the cold. When you got into the kitchen, Finn jumped from his chair and threw something into the fireplace.

“Finn,” you scolded. “That a cigarette?”

“Don’t tell Aunt Polly,” he begged, cowering down more in his chair.

Jack ran into the room, a smile on his face as he got ready to watch the show of his youngest uncle getting into trouble.

You hung your jacket on the hook and sat next to Finn, noticing him flinch slightly as you scooted closer. The instinct made you swallow knowing he probably expected you to hit him — one of the discipline actions of the times that still made you cringe despite your attempt to shield your facial expressions.

“I won’t. But you really shouldn’t smoke, especially while you’re still growing. It stunts your growth, ya’know. You want to be this height your whole life?” You tousled his hair playfully to emphasize your point.

Actually, you weren’t a hundred percent sure if that was true — you remember hearing it when you were younger (that and coffee) but you never actually ever did research on it yourself.

“It’s also bad for your lungs,” you added, closing the unattended box of sticks that were sitting in the middle of the table. “It’s bad enough the air quality here is practically smoke itself, the second hand smoke will probably kill us all—“

“Is that what’s happenin’ to mummy?” Katie asked, her hand resting on your knee as she began petting the material of your skirt.

Brow creased, you looked to Finn and Jack, then around the house and noticed no one was around.

“Where is your mum?”

“She’s sick again,” said Jack, or J.J. as you’d immediately called him when you learned that his real name was John, and that he’d been named after his father (Junior). Another moment of instant regret, seeing as you had no idea if initial names or initial nicknames were a common thing yet. But the seven year old latched onto it immediately and you’d apologized to Martha profusely. After the initial shock of her son insisting everyone call him this, who she’d named after John proudly, she finally admitted to finding the nickname quite cute.

That’d been the first substantial interaction you’d had with Martha after just starting in the house. Even before the boys returned, you’d offered to help watch the kids whenever Polly or Ada were babysitting. You’d built a bit of a rapport with the little ones over the months, which had honestly surprised you seeing as you had zero experience with children, being an only child and not having been around family outside of your parents your whole life. It’d taken a little longer to get friendlier with Martha, but eventually you’d found a mutual ease around each other when you were both in the house. But unlike Ada, you didn’t find yourself spending any time outside the house, or alone even, together. And that was okay.

But when she first started getting sick, you’d tried to put in a little more effort to at least let her know you were there for her, or Polly, or the kids, if they needed you. Last you’d heard, Martha had started feeling better around Christmas.

“It’s not smoke, dummy,” J.J. said harshly to his younger sister when she asked again if it was was because of the cigarettes.

“Hey,” you said instinctively, “no need for name calling.”

“Auntie Polly said she’s cold—“

“She’s got a cold—”

“Where is she now?” You interrupted before they escalated, bringing all three of their attentions back to you.

“Auntie Polly took her to the ha’pital,” Katie answered. “Teddy and Annie are with Auntie Ada, said they needed naps.”

And with that, you launched into babysitter mode for the three downstairs. You kept out of the way of the kitchen, especially when the shop opened. When Ada returned with the youngest two, you all took a trip to the shop for food, per Polly’s instructions. By the time you returned, Polly was back and starting dinner.

That’s when she broke the news silently to you and Ada.

Martha had passed away.

Polly was angry with the hospitals, ranting about how she didn’t trust them and how she never should have taken her there in the first place.

“I’ve sent word to John, but he’s still in Digbeth. I’m afraid I’m going to have to break the news to the children.”

You offered to stay the night to help with the kids and housework. That first night had been filled with tears. You even caught Polly’s eyes damp a handful of times during the quieter moments.

Over the next few days, whenever you didn’t have a shift at the Garrison, you ended up at the Shelby house, even sleeping in one of the unoccupied bedrooms most nights. Polly was spending most of the following days preparing for the funeral, while you and Ada tried to make this new world make sense to the children.

You and Ada both had your own experiences of losing your mothers to draw on in an attempt to console the little ones. But it was still difficult, especially for the youngest two, who were still not completely understanding that their mother wouldn’t be coming back. Finn’s patience and kindness to his little nieces and nephews had been the most endearing part for you. He’d been too young to remember his own mother, but was able to explain this new reality in child terms that surprised you.

Since arriving in this time and place, it was hard not to judge the living conditions and lack of opportunities that surrounded you, especially when comparing them to your own upbringing. You’d always considered yourself middle to lower class, but you still had so much more privilege than whole chunks of the world.

Here, even with some of those privileges, you were beginning to understand just how much faster it seemed these children of the time had to grow and mature than you ever had to. Hardships like losing parents at a young age were just the beginning — poverty, malnourishment, lack of education opportunities — these were things that you couldn’t imagine having grown up through. It make you think about Ada and Tommy, your previous image of them running around as children suddenly shifting to something more heart clenching.

Your respect for Polly and her role as matriarch was already high, but over the next few days it only grew as she handled the household, children, business, and funeral arrangements nearly on her own. There hadn’t been a peep from John or any of the brothers until the night before the funeral.

Not yet asleep, you could hear the banging of doors opening and chairs moving in the kitchen. Instinctively, you rose from the cot and grabbed the fireplace stick. On your way down, you stuck your head in the kids’ room, seeing them fast asleep before shutting the door and heading for the noisy intruders.

“Come on, Tom,” you heard Arthur’s voice coming from the kitchen. “She’s got a sister—“

“S’not tonight.” Tommy replying made you pause, your heart jumping at hearing his voice for the first time in weeks. “We’ve got— got the funeral tomorrow, then back to ‘beth.”

His voice sounded lighter than normal, if not slightly slurred.

“Ah fuck it — we’ve been over there for weeks now. The whores here know exactly what I like, them in Dig—“

You cleared your throat, startling both men, though only one reached for his gun to point in your direction. Despite your curiosity to hear more about their escapades, Arthur’s voice had grown louder and you were fearful he’d wake John’s kids, who’d been nightmarish already to settle down.

Tommy’s throat bobbled as he lowered his gun, setting it down on the table. You noticed the dishevelment of his hair and collar of his shirt under his jacket. That, along with the way Arthur was swaying and both with nearly empty bottles in their hands confirmed what you suspected — the boys were wasted.

“The fuck’re you doin’ here?” Arthur asked, his voice not holding as much disdain as you expected, despite the words coming out.

“I’ve been helping Polly and Ada with the kids,” you answered softly, crossing your arms. “They’re asleep upstairs, if you wouldn’t mind keeping your voice down.”

Arthur’s brow creased, his voice still at the same decimeter despite your request. “You ain’t got kids—”

“John’s kids,” Tommy reminded his brother. He gestured toward the door, “Go on now. Don’t you have someone to meet?”

Arthur perked up, “Right! Suppose you won’t join me now, eh? You’ll know where I’ll be!” He gave a final shout before leaving the room and closing the door loudly behind him, causing you to cringe and listen for the stirrings of awakened little ones.

After a moment of silence, you turned back toward the kitchen where Tommy was beginning to remove his jacket.

A deep red stain on the shoulder of his shirt sleeve caused you to gasp, walking toward him without realizing what you were doing, setting the fireplace poker on the table.

“What happened?” You asked, touching his arm gently as you rotated it to see a slash in the fabric.

Tommy shrugged, unsteady on his feet as he instead reached for the fuller bottle of rum on the counter. “Just a scrap ‘fore we went to the pub, ‘s nothin’—“

“I can help—“

“Just go back to the room—“

“Sit down,” you instructed more sternly. He glared at you, but you didn’t let it stop you. “Take off your shirt, that’s going to infect if we don’t clean it.”

“I can do it m’self,” he mumbled and turned to leave, but began to stumble as he became imbalanced.

You caught and stabilized him before guiding him back to the chair. “You’re drunk as fuck, Tommy. Just sit down and let me help you.”

He huffed, but began to slide down in the chair until it creaked with the extra weight. Satisfied, you finally turned to get a fresh bowl of water and clean towels, then the bandages you’d seen Polly use a few times before. He was unbuttoning his shirt when you pulled up a second chair closer to him, ringing the cloth in the water.

“What were you gonna do with that?” You caught his gesture to the fireplace poker on the table, his voice laced with condescension. “Should learn how to handle a real weapon.”

By the time you sat down, Tommy had his bad arm out of his shirt.

“I know how to handle a gun,” you answered plainly, your voice serious as he watched you examine his wound.

Well, you knew how to handle a gun in the 2000s, that is. With your father being a military man, he wanted to make sure you and your mother went through the proper gun safety and etiquette classes since there’d likely be some weapons in the house. You hadn’t been to a shooting range since your father was alive, but you imagined if you had to handle a gun today you’d at least not make a total idiot of yourself. Now, whether you could actually shoot a live person was another question.

Concentrating back on Tommy’s arm, the blood had begun to crust around the cut, but began to bleed slightly as you started to put pressure on it. He hissed slightly at the contact.

“Sorry,” you mumbled slightly as you continued to work. “Why’d you let this go so long? You know better—“

He scoffed, “Do I?”

“I would have assumed so,” you answered honestly. Someone with the military backing he had, he must have known the dangers of infections and exposed wounds. Though as you worked you began to realize it wasn’t as bad as it’d originally appeared.

He took another swig of the bottle before handing it to you.

“No thanks,” you answered, not in the mood to drink tonight.

“For the cut,” he said as he shook his head, a breath of amusement exhaling from his nose at your reaction.

Sterilizing, you realized, giving yourself a duh as you took the bottle and carefully poured some on his skin. He hissed again as blood started to flow once more before you applied proper pressure. You sat there silently for a moment, just holding the rag to his arm, when you noticed him looking down at the cut sleeve, running his thumb across the red stain.

“So much blood for such a small cut,” he said softly, mostly to himself.

Your brow creased as you lifted the rag to look at his arm. The cut itself wasn’t that deep, but it was pretty substantial, at least in your opinion. Maybe comparatively it wasn’t as bad as some of the other injuries he’d had in his lifetime. The thought made your heart clench as your eyes began to notice other scars along his arm and uncovered chest.

You kept going back to a particularly gnarly scar just above his chest as you lifted his arm to wrap the bandage.

“Did you get this fighting?” you finally asked, turning your attention back to the cut, your curiosity getting the better of you.

He grabbed the bottle and took another drink. “‘Cause that’s all we do, eh? Drink, fight, and fuck—“

“I didn’t say that,” you interrupted, your voice strong in defense.

You wouldn’t mention how his brother was just talking about whores. Or how they were both currently drunk. Or how the last time you’d seen him in this kitchen he’d been bloody and bruised from an altercation.

Probably wouldn’t be helpful at this point.

Instead, you tried to appeal to the logical side of him. “Just with the Digbeth expansion, I’d imagine that can be pretty dangerous.”

You finished the tie of the bandage as you looked back up at him. He was already watching you, his eyes red and glassy, causing the already bright blues to appear more translucent against the candlelight. You noticed how much darker the skin under his eyes were, and couldn’t help but wonder when the last time he slept was.

“You’ve got some on your hands,” he pointed, gently wrapping his hand around your own. He lifted it, revealing the deep red smear on the pad of your hand. He used his good hand to squeeze out the rag and began to clean your palm.

“It’s just blood,” you shrugged, trying not to let on that your heart was racing at the intimacy. “Blood doesn’t scare me, Tommy.”

He looked between your eyes. For a moment you felt like he’d suddenly become sober as he lifted his good hand and gently ran his thumb against your cheek. “It should.”

You swallowed. “Tommy, I—“

“You don’t belong here.”

At his words, you felt your back straighten in defense, not realizing how close you’d been moving in toward him. Your heart began to race even faster as you tried to decipher what exactly he meant.

Part of you knew he must have been talking more in general terms. That you deserved something more than Birmingham in a gambling den with gangsters.

But there was something in the rawness of his words. Something that made you feel like he knew what such a phrase could actually mean to you — that you didn’t belong here, in this time or this place.

“I don’t,” you answered honestly, not helping the sincerity of the words falling from your lips. “But here I am. And here is where I want to be.”

Tommy’s expression remained unreadable as his eyes flicked between both of yours, looking for the lie. His adam’s apple bobbed, then he whispered, “With me?”

The sound of soft whimpering caused you both to jump, turning back toward the kitchen doorway. Katie stopped at the archway, dragging a blanket as she used the end of it to wipe her face.

You rose from your seat to collect the little one — this wasn’t the first time she’d woken up crying since her mother’s passing.

Katie nuzzled her face into your shoulder as you turned back toward the kitchen. Tommy was already standing, putting his arm back in his shirt and grabbing his coat and gun, still slightly uneasy in his footing as he headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Tommy—” you called as the door shut behind him.

—-

The next morning was hectic as everyone prepared for the funeral. You didn’t see the brothers again until that afternoon, John’s eyes red despite the stone expression he kept on his face as everyone offered their condolences.

You felt Tommy’s eyes on you as you both navigated through the house, stealing a few glances at him yourself when he wasn’t looking. Neither of you spoke to the other though, and you were beginning to wonder if he even remembered your conversation the previous night. But each time you found yourself thinking in that direction, you shook your head to remind yourself of the bigger picture of the day.

Polly explained that they would start at Charlie’s Yard and walk the body through the town Martha had grown up in before reaching the graveyard. There, the priest would perform the ceremony. Apparently most of Martha’s family was already gone, so the guests would be mostly John’s family and her friends. After the burial, the Shelbys would return to Charlie’s Yard to burn the caravan filled with Martha’s mementos and pictures. Apparently this was more of a Shelby family tradition, something you were greatly interested in learning more about, at a different time of course.

The preparations reminded you of your recent conversation with Polly over spirits. It got you thinking about the tea Madam Despoina had given you again.

Excusing yourself to get ready for the events of the day, you left the Shelby house to change in your lodgings, doing your best to find something black. The only thing you didn’t have was a hat, but Ada had promised to bring you an extra. Your eyes kept shifting over to your dresser drawer.

It’d been almost a month since you’d received the gift. You’d spent months desperate for an answer as to how or why you were here. And it seemed that just as you were given some sort of clue, some key to unlock something — you were rejecting it. You’d gotten caught up in the found family of the Shelbys and the unshakable pull you felt from Tommy. This new life you’d created for yourself had become a distraction and disassociation of the still very real mystery of your circumstance.

Your eyes moved again to the dresser as you looked over yourself in the mirror. Could the answer be in that cup of tea?

A knock at the door caused you to jump, your heart racing at being caught with your own thoughts. Half expecting Ada with the hat she’d promised, you were surprised when it was Tommy instead who stood on the other side of your door.

He had his hands shoved in his pockets as he stood there uncomfortably. He cleared his throat, “Ada wasn’t sure if you’d know where Charlie’s Yard was, so I offered to come collect you.”

“Oh,” you replied, wondering if it was true. “I just need to get my coat then—“

“Tommy? What are you doin’ here?” You heard another man’s voice down the hall as you turned back around to poke your head through the still open door of your apartment.

Benji approached the doorway in a button-up and small bouquet of flowers in his hands.

Tommy’s brow creased as he appraised the man, then looked between the flowers and you before his face hardened and back straightened.

“What are you doing here, Benji?”

He smirked, “We were going to get dinner, remember?”

You hadn’t. The man hadn’t even been a speck on your mind the past week.

“I’m sorry, Benji,” you began, your voice sincere, “um— Martha passed away this week. We’re on our way to the funeral, I can’t see you tonight.”

“Oh,” he turned to Tommy. “Right I heard about that. I’m sorry for your loss, mate.”

Tommy shook his head. “Save your condolences for my brother, Hancock. We’re going to be late, if you’ll excuse us.”

Without waiting for you, Tommy began to walk down the hallway toward the exit. You rushed to grab your coat and lock your door behind you before apologizing again to Benji and hustling after Tommy.

“Suppose that answers my question,” was the first thing out of Tommy’s mouth when you finally caught up with him, still looking straight ahead as you both walked down the lane.

“What?”

“Last night—“

“You remember last night?” you asked surprised. He had been really drunk

He scoffed, still not slowing in his walk nor giving you a glance. “I remember a lot of things. Including you telling me you weren’t interested in Hancock.”

“I wasn’t,” you answered, trying to catch your breath.

He scoffed again and your eyes narrowed.

“But then nearly a month went by after you ghosted me so I thought what the hell, give the guy a chance.”

“Ghost?—“

“You told me to stay away—“

“And staying away means being courted by a Peaky Blinder, ya?”

“Courted?” Your brow creased at the use of phrase. “It was going to be one date — just a dinner, we weren’t getting married.”

He rounded on you, pulling you abruptly into an alcove off the sidewalk until your back was against the brick. His eyes bore down at you as the fire returned to his eyes. “Do you know what happens to people who cross me?” He started, his voice lower than it had been moments before. “They lose their ears, their tongues, their eyes. You have no fuckin’ idea who you’re talking to.”

“I do,” you said, your voice just as strong despite the threatening tone of Tommy hovering above you. His eyes simmered for a moment. “You think you’re a monster. Maybe you are— maybe you have to be, maybe you don’t. I don’t care. I said I was going to help you. So shove off with the chauvinistic ‘I’m pushing you away to keep you safe’ bullshit — I don’t want it.”

You surprised yourself at your own words, though you tried to keep your face from showing it. Deep down, you’d always believed what you said, but you hadn’t known exactly to what extent. Did you not care if Tommy Shelby was a monster? No. And you couldn’t shake why.

“You’ll regret it,” he said, his eyes icy once again with the same hint of desperation you saw the night before.

“Not as much as you’ll regret going from ‘I need you’ to ‘stay away from me’—“

He shook his head, finally taking a step back from you. “I was being selfish—“

“Well then be selfish!” You took a step back toward him. “Because dammit, Tommy, I need you too!”

He pulled your body into his so quickly you nearly pushed him away. But your body immediately reacted to the feel of his lips against yours as you pulled yourself in closer, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You broke away first, the whistling of pedestrians on the sidewalk making you remember you weren’t as concealed in this alcove as you thought. Though Tommy didn’t seem to care, his eyes still focused on you as you caught your breath.

“Don’t think just kissing me absolves you from giving a proper explanation for your actions,” you tried to say as serious as you could muster between breaths.

You were still mad at him. He’d put you through a roller coaster of unnecessary emotions the last few weeks. For him to get jealous at the prospects of you moving on? There was something more, you could feel it. And there was no way you were letting him get away with not explaining himself fully before you felt you could open back up to him again.

The corner of his mouth rose in amusement, “Come to the races with me when I return.”

“What?” your brow creased, though the corner of your mouth tugged upward at the prospects of what sounded like a date (you really were delusional when it came to this man).

“I want to take you to the races. Join me?”

You shook your head, “Is this the Tommy Shelby version of an olive branch?”

He smirked, “Maybe. We can talk more then.”

“Deal,” you answered, pulling his smirk into a genuine smile as you both turned back to continue down the sidewalk.

—-

The funeral was beautiful. Honestly, you hadn’t any idea what to expect when Polly talked about the arrangements. But the words, the songs, and the beauty of the traditions had you in tears. John held his children during the entire procession, and gave a lovely send off before lighting the fire.

Despite the grief you were feeling for the family, your brain hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the tea in your bedroom. Tommy had informed you that they’d be wrapping up Digbeth soon, returning properly in a few weeks.

That night was the first night you’d been back in your own apartment. The first thing you did was open your dresser drawer and remove the box.

You left it on your counter top as you started the fireplace, then the kettle. As you reached for the tea cup, you wondered if it was smart to be alone while you did this. You were, after all, still about sixty percent sure that the old tea was just going to give you either a stomach ache or seizure. But, you guessed that was better than the ninety-nine percent that you’d been at upon first receiving.

You gently removed the leaves and vial of water, following the instructions from Madam Despoina as you made your cup.

Holding the warm tea in your hands, you made the last minute decision to sit on the floor — reasoning that if you collapsed or something, at least you wouldn’t have as far to go.

You settled on the rug, inhaled deeply, closed your eyes, then brought the edge of the cup to your mouth.

You could feel the hot water run through your throat, then down to your chest before the warmth began to spread through your arms and hands, down to your stomach, then legs, then toes.

With your eyes still closed, you sat for a moment, waiting for something to happen.

When nothing did, you took another sip. Again, nothing happened.

Sighing, you sent a small thank you to whomever was listening that you at least didn’t go into any kind of shock, then opened your eyes.

“Hello, darling.”

>> next chapter <;< chapter masterlist

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halfvalid · 7 months

Note

Hey! I was wondering if you could do a live action Zoro smut where it's enemies to lovers (boy X girl). I don't mind how hardcore smut (18+?) but I would love if there was some tension (argument or fight!) 😁

speak teeth

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| 18+ | smut | explicit |

alternate title: i need the lord

rating: explicit

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

description: you and zoro have never gotten along. after a incident in town escaping from marines, you resolve to sort out your issues with unconventional means. (aka sex.)

tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, enemies to lovers, except it's more like frenemies to frenemies with benefits, kissing, kiss to distract trope, no use of “y/n”, reader calls zoro "roronoa", penis in vagina sex, creampie, pwp, cowgirl position

author’s note: thanks for the request! i kind of lost the plot on this one because i'm terrible at writing enemies-to-lovers and there's not much 'lovers' involved in this since i couldn't exactly fit that into a oneshot. hopefully you still like it anyway? i tried my best.

tags make it seem so much worse than it actually is.

Roronoa Zoro did not like you.

The feeling was mutual, so you didn’t mind the fact, really. Zoro was annoying, with his three swords, and that stupid low voice, and how he never seemed interested in conversation unless it was either about alcohol or beating someone up. You were undoubtedly annoying to him for various reasons not so different in number to your own grievances of his personality. You two didn’t like each other. It was fine. It was normal.

It was pissing off the rest of the Straw Hat crew.

In your defense, you were never outwardly aggressive towards the man. You didn’t purposely exclude him from conversations or avoid looking at him if he dared haunt a room you were in with his presence. You just… didn’t speak to him unless spoken to. And maybe you had a tendency to roll your eyes or mutter some insults when he was talking, but it wasn’t that big of an issue.

Zoro, on the other hand, was a master of discord. He’d killed and hunted so many people it only made sense for him to be, but it seemed he hadn’t skipped his lessons in petty fights either. Because he was bullheaded and a buzzkill and always opened his big mouth when you were around. Those sarcastic remarks of his were common, sure, but when you were in the room they were tenfold and laced with genuine venom.

You weren’t sure who’d even started the strife between you two. It had been so long that you’d forgotten. While everyone else had seemingly bonded after your journey together, you and Zoro remained firmly in the stage you’d been while trapped in Buggy’s green room—antagonistic. Obviously you didn’t hate each other—when Zoro had nearly died to Mihawk, you hadn’t been happy—but you didn’t get along, and both of you were just fine with that arrangement.

Nobody else was, though.

And so obviously you didn’t like it when Luffy announced, as you were docked, that you were assigned to scout the surrounding village together. Your lips twisted, but you refrained from saying anything up until Luffy finished his speech with: “And that’s the plan! Any objections?”

There were head shakes from all around the deck of the Going Merry. You eyed Zoro in the very corner—his arms were crossed, and carefully he raised a hand, just barely lifting it into the air as he motioned. “Why is she coming with me?”

You bit your tongue, suppressing the irritated sigh that threatened to escape. “Because,” Luffy said, bright as ever, “You two need to learn how to be friends. Think of it as a bonding activity!”

“I’d really rather go with Sanji,” you optioned, trying to be more civil than Zoro at least. “He could use a hand carrying the stock barrels.”

“Nope,” Luffy chirped. “It makes most sense for the two of you to be the one to buy the weapons, anyway.”

“He’s right. You both are the most knowledgeable on the subject,” Nami whispered, though she gave you an apologetic look. You sighed. Zoro opted to say nothing.

“Fine. Let’s go, Roronoa,” you said, getting up off the Going Merry’s railing to start walking off the ship. You heard Zoro grumble from behind you, but he soon caught up. You said absolutely nothing to each other for the first few minutes of walking, keeping to yourselves until you eventually reached the market.

“What kind of weapons are we looking for?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at the man who trailed just barely behind you. “I know Luffy wants backups, but did he say specifically what?”

“Probably a few guns, maybe some swords,” Zoro replied. “A katana for me. Extra staff for Nami, in case hers breaks.”

“Right. Nami gave me five-hundred thousand berry. Let’s spend it wisely. No pit stops.”

Zoro gave you a look. “It’s not like I’m going to slip into the nearest tavern and abandon you. Luffy said we go together, so we go together.”

“Right.” You turned away so you could roll your eyes in private. You had to appreciate that, at least; Zoro’s loyalty to Luffy at least meant he wouldn’t be a bitch to you if Luffy told him not to, and Nami kept you more or less under wraps too. “Pistols first. Let’s just get two, and save the rest for a sword because those are more pricey.”

Focusing on business was fine. You could be a responsible adult and not be petty. And it really did go okay for the first half-hour, wherein you bartered one of the weapons sellers down to a reasonable price for two pistols and also picked up a bo staff on the way.

You were just heading towards another district of the town when Zoro slowed to a stop. You glanced over to see what he was looking at—a wall pasted with bounty posters, various pirates plastered on paper with big numbers shouting out their worth.

“Look, it’s Luffy,” you said, eyes catching a bundle of posters near the top. Sure enough, all six members of the Straw Hat crew were there. You noticed with distaste that Zoro’s bounty was higher than yours.

Zoro tore all of the posters off, and you were almost surprised when he took yours off too. He crumpled them up into balls, about to toss them behind his shoulder before you grabbed them, carefully tucking them away in your bag. “What’s that for?” he asked.

“So I can shoot darts at your face,” you replied. “Come on. Should finish and get back to the ship before anyone recognizes us.”

Zoro shrugged, but followed you as you led him to the closest armory you could find. The shop was small and rickety, and a silver bell announced your presence as you entered the building. There were blades of every kind in the shop; you could see a table of knives and daggers, along with a stand full of long swords by the front. Near the back, you glimpsed some hanging rapiers, and—

“Katanas,” Zoro muttered, pushing past you to slip to the back of the store. You sighed, but followed, glancing over the array of jians instead. Zoro was already picking one up and pulling it out of its sheath, checking the quality of the blade.

“Don’t—” you hissed, and he glanced up at you, brow raised in question as he spun the blade around in his hand. “You’re going to knock something over.”

Zoro sheathed the sword, a satisfying click filling the room with the motion. “Calm down.”

“I am calm,” you snapped. “If you’d just stop stomping around with those big boots of yours, though—”

Zoro looked far less affected by the entire ordeal than you did, and that pissed you off even more. Logically, you knew he didn’t show much emotion in general, and even his annoyances tended to be deep and quiet—but still. He strung the katana back up where it belonged. “I am not stomping.”

“Yes, you are—” You cut yourself off as the bell of the store rang again, announcing the arrival of more patrons. These two were whispering to each other, gruff voices that sounded almost scared. “He came in here, right?” One of them asked the other. “Are you sure it’s him?”

“He tore down his own wanted poster!” The other hissed back.

You caught onto what was happening quickly, letting a sigh out from between your teeth and grabbing onto Zoro’s arm to yank him further back into the store. You turned a corner, where a narrow hall cut off at a dead end, a wardrobe of swords blocking off the area to any prying eyes. “Now look at what you did,” you grumbled, before you could stop yourself. “You’ve got fucking bounty hunters after us.” You glanced through the stands of swords for a double take—the pair were standing at the front, outfitted in familiar white-and-blue uniforms. “Scratch that, even worse. Marines.”

“I can take them in a fight,” Zoro muttered, hand going to his swords. You grabbed his wrist and gave him a look.

“No. We’re not due to leave the docks for another two days,” you snapped. “Can you figure out a way to get out of a situation without stabbing someone?”

“How can you be sure it was him, though? The Demon?” The more timid marine asked. They’d started moving, and you shoved Zoro into the corner, attempting to hide his ridiculously broad figure with an armoire of weapons. He scoffed, but made no move to adjust, back flat against the wall.

“He had the three swords. And the three earrings, too. Of course it was him,” the other one replied. You rolled your eyes.

“Ever try being a little less obvious, Roronoa?” you muttered, shooting another glare in Zoro’s direction. “You’re like a flashing red light for every marine within a two-mile radius with your stupid swords. I’m Roronoa Zoro, the pirate hunter!”

“I don’t hear you yelling at Luffy to take his hat off,” Zoro hissed back.

“They’re coming this way,” you answered, entirely ignoring his retort. “Hide your stupid swords. Shove them behind a stand or something.”

“I don’t see why we can’t just—”

“No fighting.” You swiveled around, tugging his holsters off his belt and tossing the swords behind him with a graceless clatter. Zoro just sighed. “Shit,” you muttered as the marines turned at the noise, starting to move towards the back of the store.

“Now look at what you did,” Zoro mumbled, mocking your words straight back at you. You glared at him.

“Shut up and stay put,” you snapped. “Let me think of something.” The marines were coming closer, and you huffed out a nervous breath. Zoro watched you from his position.

“They know your face, too,” he said carefully. Almost derisively, like he was looking down on your idea; making you seem stupid. “Just let me fight them. It makes the most sense.” The footsteps grew louder, then, the marines moving towards the back of the store.

“I think I heard voices,” one of them muttered to the other. You shushed Zoro, unconsciously moving closer to him until your arm bumped into his. You startled, and then looked up, finding Zoro’s chest just inches away from your face.

“Is this some new sort of hiding tactic?” Zoro asked, voice dry as a desert. “Are you trying to melt us into the wall—”

The voices tapered off as the marines moved closer. Your hand shot up to cradle Zoro’s face, covering his dangling gold earrings with your fingers to hide them away. “Fuck this,” Zoro muttered, leaning back to pick up his swords. You shushed him, and he stopped, bent halfway over you so your faces were just inches apart.

“Just trust me,” you snapped. Zoro opened his mouth to argue, but then the marines’ footsteps got louder—they’d turn the corner any moment now.

“Fine,” he breathed. “But if it doesn’t work, I’m taking out my swords.”

Your mind ran a million miles a minute trying to figure out what to do. The marines were just around the corner now, and your breath caught, eyes meeting Zoro’s as you wracked your brain for something, anything that might distract the marines away from the two of you. Zoro’s lips parted, a split-second away from undoubtedly whispering some grand insult when the marines finally turned the corner.

You were kissing Zoro before you could even think.

“Oh,” one of the marines said, as your fingers nearly pinched Zoro’s earlobe, still covering his earrings. Zoro was frozen for a moment, but the marines behind you seemed startled enough that he realized it was working. A rush of satisfaction filled you for a moment—see, Roronoa, you don’t have to stab shit all the time—before Zoro was kissing you back.

And. Well. You’d started it, but you had not anticipated this.

Zoro was almost rough, his hand curling around the nape of your neck and tugging you down closer to him. His other hand came to rest on your waist, so impossibly big around your torso that you shivered. What had started out as a simple kiss slipped into one all messy, your breaths coming out in sharp gasps as Zoro barely gave you a moment to breathe.

His teeth dug into your lip, and you groaned into his mouth, tongue darting along his gums with the motion. He snickered at that, and you felt a little bundle of vexation starting at the pit of stomach at the sound. You ran your tongue into the crevices of his mouth, licking into him with ease. Another rush of satisfaction filled you as Zoro’s grip tightened on your waist. You were winning.

He fought back just as hard, practically merciless as his tongue slid against yours, prying into your mouth like he was trying to bare you empty of secrets. You felt stripped raw like this, but it wasn’t a terrible feeling—the opposite, actually, soft whimpers leaving your lungs as he dug more fiercely into you. Zoro sucked on your lower lip with teeth, and you barely managed to suppress the stuttered sound it tugged out from the back of your throat.

There were hasty footsteps receding somewhere behind you, which was the only sound that snapped you out of your motions. You were the first to break away—another score gained there—glancing over your shoulder to ensure the marines had really left before fully detaching yourself from Zoro. The silver bell rung again, signaling the marines had made their exit, and you let out a relieved sigh.

Zoro glanced over your shoulder, straightening his clothes as his tongue ran along his top teeth. The top teeth you’d had your tongue on just seconds ago. “If you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve just said so.”

“I did not—” You sucked in a breath, all your general irritated feelings towards the man coming back at full force with just that one sentence. “Shut the fuck up. I got us out of the situation, didn’t I?”

“You have questionable methods,” Zoro replied, leaning over to pick up his abandoned swords and strap them back along his hip. “Don’t think about that all night.”

“You were not that good of a kisser,” you snapped, though you could feel your face getting hot. Your mouth tingled, like you could still taste him on your tongue; on your teeth; in your gums. There was a vaguely empty sensation at the curve of your waist you tried your best to ignore. “Don’t be so full of yourself. Roronoa. Now pick a sword to buy so we can leave already.”

Zoro seemed irritated, but he complied, brushing past you to inspect a few more of the swords before picking out one. You paid for it as quickly as possible, in a rush to get back to the ship; not even trying to talk the salesman down from his price like you usually would.

Zoro followed you languidly, absolutely nothing urgent about his motions as you trailed after you back through the village. You wanted to uppercut him so badly.

“Oh, there you guys are,” Usopp said upon stepping foot back onto the Going Merry. You shot him an apologetic smile before breezing past, beelining for your bedroom without a second thought. “Uh—okay! You good?” he called after you, but you were too far away to respond at this point.

You slammed the door of your room shut upon entering, heaving out a breath of jumbled emotion all in one go. Fuck Roronoa Zoro and his three stupid swords and his three stupid earrings. He was the most lumbering, bullheaded oaf you’d ever had the displeasure of engaging with.

He’d been a ridiculously good kisser. Now you hated him even more.

You locked yourself in your room for the next four hours, busying yourself with various tasks whilst simultaneously seething over Zoro. It wasn’t even that he’d done anything specifically to you in the past. You just—didn’t get along, really. He was irritating, and stupid, and always tried to solve his problems with a blade rather than attempting to use his wits. Not that he had any wits of any kind. He was—

He was, as you were starting to find out, kind of attractive. Which. Okay. You’d known his face was at least easy on the eyes, despite his personality and general attitude not retaining the same qualities. But this was an entirely unappreciated development.

Someone knocked on your door, snapping you out of your irritated haze. The sun had nearly set, a kiss of dusk coming in from outside as you shuffled over to the door. You yanked it open. “What—”

Zoro was standing in the doorway, arm propped against the side and keeping your door open even as you attempted to close it on him. “Roronoa.”

“You’re hiding,” Zoro said, a tinge of mirth just barely visible in his eyes. You glared at him.

“I am not.”

“Do you have to disagree with everything I say?” Zoro asked. He was still wearing his swords even now, though he’d dressed down as the hour grew late. “You skipped dinner.”

“Leave me alone,” you muttered.

Zoro took that as an invitation to step fully into the room. “I told the rest of the crew about the marines,” he said, and you flinched. “Not about that. Just that we got away. Nami wants to leave tomorrow evening now, so we’ll be busy.”

You stared at him, suspicious right from the start. “And you care enough to tell me? Did someone put you up to this?”

Zoro stiffened. “I just thought you might want to know.”

Your eyes narrowed. He looked as normal as ever—face blank, leaving no expression to be seen. But his muscles were tenser than usual, and the veins running up his arm were prominent, like his hand was tightened into a fist where it hid away in his pocket. “You have ulterior motives.”

“You’re so annoying,” Zoro muttered, but he didn’t budge. You scoffed.

“What, are you here to admit that you were wrong and my plan really did get us away from the marines?” you asked, voice sugary sweet as you riled him up. His jaw clenched, a vein tracing up his neck bulging with the pressure. “You don’t need to inflate my ego—”

Zoro moved across the room swiftly, and you stumbled back in surprise as he pinned you to the wall, hand tight around your arm. Your words died in your throat as his lips sealed over yours with a bruising kiss. His fingers dug into the skin of your bicep—tight, but not tight enough to hurt.

“I don’t need to inflate your ego,” Zoro snapped, finishing your sentence from where it’d died on your lips. “You do that enough yourself.”

You stared at him, the tingle of his lips still left as an afterthought on your mouth. “If you’re going to make out with me, take your fucking swords off.”

Zoro barely suppressed an eye roll, hands working at his belt to slide his holsters off from his hip. “What’s your problem with them?”

“I think your emotional dependency on a bunch of oversized butter knifes—”

Zoro’s head jerked up, eyes dark when they met yours. “Don’t call them that.”

You couldn’t resist the quip off your tongue. “You asked.”

Zoro slowly made his way across the room again, steps careful and languid as he moved closer. “I take it back,” he said, voice a near whisper, every word crisp on his tongue. You shivered.

This time, you expected it when he kissed you. He wasn’t careful with it, and you didn’t want it any other way—your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, tugging him down closer to you. It got aggressive quick, his fingers coming down to clutch your waist, one of your hands tight around the locks of his hair as you pried open his mouth with your tongue.

Neither of you complied easily, both trying to get the better of the other. Zoro’s tongue forced itself into your mouth before you tugged on his lower lip with teeth. Both his hands came to wrap around your waist, now, hoisting you up and onto your hanging bed in the center of the room. His fingers dug in hard enough to leave bruises.

Zoro abandoned your mouth in favor of your neck, biting open-mouthed kisses into your jawline before moving down your jugular. Each one was more hasty than the last, wet and warm with licks of tongue and scrapes of teeth. You didn’t bother moving to give him better access—he had to do that himself, a large hand coming to rest on the back of your skull and pulling your head back to bare the rest of your neck to him. You heard him mutter something in Japanese—probably some obscenity, which pleased you more than you’d like to admit.

His kisses stopped at the hinge of your neck and shoulder, Zoro pausing to lean over and work his fingers up your spine. They danced over the clasp of your shirt, and you had to choke back a wry laugh, surprised. “I thought the Demon just took what he wanted,” you murmured.

Zoro didn’t seem to like that. He started unfastening the buttons going down the back of your top. “At least I was polite enough to ask,” he muttered.

“Just take my clothes off already,” you said, and he stopped his work, leaning back to glare into your eyes. You let out an annoyed sigh, and he rolled his eyes, going back to what he’d been doing. “Are we going to talk about it?” you asked, eyeing Zoro’s chest in front of you.

You pressed a kiss to his neck, sucking at the skin before grazing it ever-so-slightly with your teeth. His throat hitched under your mouth.

“Nope,” he grunted, finally unclasping the last button and pulling your top over your head. Since you didn’t have an issue with that arrangement, you didn’t say anything, even as Zoro practically shoved you flat on your back.

“Rude,” you muttered. Zoro didn’t bother apologizing; he just leaned down to take your breast in his mouth, tongue circling around your nipple. You weren’t fast enough to suppress your gasp this time—a point in Zoro’s favor then, one you allowed with a bitter taste on your tongue. Zoro’s mouth formed a smile against your skin. You brought your knee up between his legs, shoving into his crotch in retaliation.

“Stop,” Zoro hissed, the consonants of the words brushing across your skin when he spoke. You ignored him, and he let out a groan, hand clamping around your thigh to keep you from moving. “Do you have to be such a brat?”

“I am not a brat.” You hooked your ankle around his, causing him to slip from where he lay suspended above you, mouths mashing in another too-aggressive facsimile of a kiss. “You’re just a gigantic manwhore with an overinflated ego.”

“You did not just call me—” You shut him up with another kiss, teeth digging deep into the inner gums of his lip. You ran your hands up the sides of Zoro’s figure, trying your hardest to ignore the stiff muscles of his ribcage. He wasn’t that well-built. He wasn’t even that attractive, you tried to convince yourself. Still, you found the buttons of his shirt, trying to unfasten them quicker than Zoro had with yours.

One of them caught, and Zoro had the audacity to laugh. You grumbled something incoherent under your breath, tugging his shirt off all the way and tossing it somewhere behind you. “Shut up.”

“You’ve been the one complaining this entire time,” Zoro replied easily. He leaned down, tugging at your trousers to pull them off, pressing sloppy kisses down your torso now. You resisted the urge to say something in response, knowing it would just give him the satisfaction of being right. Were your points tied now? You couldn’t remember.

Zoro had pulled your pants down to your knees by now, and you kicked them off all the way, watching as he pushed them off the bed and leaned down to work at the inward slope of your hip. You shivered, legs trembling as you felt your core grow tight, the cloth of your underwear already wet with anticipation. Seeing the ever-steadying tent in Zoro’s pants made you feel just a little bit better, and you were nice enough to let a stuttering moan out as his tongue licked down to the band of your panties.

He pulled your underwear all the way off, then, but to your distaste completely ignored your fully exposed core to unbutton his own pants instead. “I hate you,” you muttered.

Zoro stopped in the middle of what he was doing, pants halfway down his thighs and length already out. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, voice careful—you could still hear the mocking tone beyond the coolness of his voice, though, and your jaw clenched in irritation. “Did you want something?”

“Yeah, for you to shut the fuck up.” You pushed yourself up by the elbows, grabbing one of Zoro’s arms and yanking him down onto the mattress. You used both hands to strip him of the last of his clothes—God, his legs were long—before returning to press your own open-mouthed bruises along his neck. His hips bucked up against yours, insistently chasing any friction, but you tightened a grip on his thigh to get him to stop. “Give me a second.”

“I don’t like that I’m suddenly under you,” Zoro said drily, and you could feel the words as they formed in his throat, still biting hickeys into his skin. You rolled your eyes, lips disconnecting from skin with a dull pop.

“Deal with it, Roronoa. I’m not moving.” With that, you finally reached down to coax his legs apart, hovering your core over his hips as you lined your entrance up with his length.

There was an audible hitch of breath on Zoro’s part as you sunk onto him. Point.

One of his hands tangled in your hair when you started moving, the other coming to press on the small of your back as you worked yourself up and down around him. For the complaining he’d done about the position, he didn’t seem so bothered about it, pulling you into a rough kiss.

You bit back with force, breath escaping you as your hips bucked against Zoro’s. The wet pool in your lower belly only grew stronger with every thrust, pressure building up inside of you as Zoro’s tongue ran across your teeth. You moaned freely now, too lost in the daze of your pleasure to remember to be annoying. Evidently Zoro felt the same way—he swallowed every one of your gasps up, grunting as you pulsed around him.

Your hips stuttered, thigh muscles contracting with the effort as you clenched down on Zoro. Still, you pushed through even as your muscles started to tire, encouraged by the deep, throaty sounds that escaped Zoro's lips between each kiss. He was big, filling you up damn near wholeheartedly, the crevices inside of you seeming to mould to his skin as you worked yourself on him.

Zoro started moving against you, and you gasped as his angle changed, somehow reaching farther in your body and causing tingles to erupt all along your skin. Your mind buzzed as he thrust into you with renewed vigor, core pulsing as you felt yourself come closer and closer to the edge.

You came all at once, teeth biting down in Zoro’s mouth before you parted from him. You let out a gasping moan, attempting to toss your head back as stars burst across your vision. Zoro’s hand in your hair dragged you back into a kiss, though; this one was slower, less teeth this time, like him coming had lessened the urge to bite.

Your movements slowed, coming to rest against Zoro’s skin, warm and—although you wouldn’t say so out loud—almost comfortable. His hand hadn’t budged from where it was pressed against your lower back, holding you tight to him.

There was a sticky wetness spreading fast by your thighs, and you grimaced, lifting yourself off of Zoro and rolling beside him on your back in one fluid motion. He stifled a groan at the movement, clearly irritated at the fact you hadn’t given any warning.

You lay there, breath heaving, rising out your high and making no move to touch the man laying by your side.

After you’d regained some of your dignity, you sat up, eyes narrowing at Zoro. “Get off my bed.”

Zoro gave you an exasperated look, but he didn’t argue; he just climbed off your bed, retrieving his clothes from where you’d tossed them about the room. He donned them slowly, like he had all the time in the world. Your eyes traced along his figure while he did, and you only felt sort of annoyed by it.

“I still hate you,” you snapped, after he’d finished changing. Zoro just scoffed, picking up his swords and slinging them across one shoulder. You could see a bruise purpling by his neck. At least you’d done damage.

“Fine by me,” he replied, straightening his shirt and giving you a look—not quite irritated, not quite sarcastic. “Dinner’s still waiting for you.”

You glared at his back as he opened the door to your bedroom. “Get lost, Roronoa,” you said, and that was that.

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therhythmafterthesummer · 1 year

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Dog Unleashed (M) ~Lee Know

Pairing: Werewolf!Minho x Human!F.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Fluff | Mild Angst? | Established Relationship Word Count: ~11k | AO3 Synopsis: Starting a relationship with the man that had been your best friend since you were a kid was and wasn’t easy in equal parts. It was, because there wasn’t anyone in this world you trusted more than Minho, there wasn’t anyone that made you feel this safe. But sometimes, it just wasn’t. Not only because of the physical distance, but also because of the challenges that posed having a supernatural boyfriend who didn’t like to talk about his equally supernatural problems. [This story is a sort of pt. 2 to Camping with Wolves, and it’s an instalment of my WereRoomies series]. Warnings: pet names (baby, kitten, etc) · a bit of miscommunication (it’ll be fine, i promise) · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut). please let me know if i missed anything !

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Author’s Note: i dedicate this one to my fellow monsterfuckers. this had been sitting in my WIPs for a while, but i finally got some inspo to write about Minho and his kitten, so here it is 🥰 kudos to the anon from this ask for cementing in my brain the idea that minho would text his kitten every morning like he does here. as usual, don’t hesitate to let me know if anything’s phrased weirdly, or to leave your thoughts in the tags/captions/send an ask/etc. y’all know i really appreciate them💜

for those that might not know, a queen is an adult female cat that hasn’t been spayed.

Minho’s WereRoomies Instalments: Camping With Wolves · Dog Unleashed · Are You There, Wolf?

Smut Warnings: sexting? (nudes are sent) · an anal plug is used · oral [M&F.Rec] · mouth fucking · fingering [F.Rec] · forced orgasm [F.Rec] · unprotected penetration [piv] · good ol’ rut driven intercourse · creampie · knotting · a barely present breeding kink.

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

You’d always known you were in love with your best friend, although you weren’t quite sure when you fell for him exactly, much less when you realised it.

Maybe it had been the moment you saw him on the brink of death, attached to all those life support devices after he’d been attacked by a werewolf… Or maybe before that, when he started to become the most reliable person in your life… Or, maybe, it was the very first day you met him, when he was placing injured stray kittens in a box to get them to a vet as soon as possible so they wouldn’t die.

Regardless, it didn’t really matter to you when it happened or when you noticed it, all that mattered to you right now was the fact that, after one fateful camping trip to the woods, you had finally been able to confess your feelings. That, even though you had never even entertained the possibility of him wanting you, he actually did. And not only did he want you, he wanted you a lot–for a long time, too.

Minho was your favourite person in this world, and starting a relationship with him seemed to have only heightened that feeling tenfold. He was your biggest supporter, he was always there for you. Even if you lived almost an hour away, you knew that, at any given moment, you’d be able to call him and he’d be there for you. Either on the phone or he’d drive to your place as fast as he legally could.

The distance hardly ever seemed to matter. Of course you missed him every day–you’d always done so, even when you were just friends–Of course you wished you could go to bed with him next to you every night, but that wasn’t a possibility at this time, so you both made do however you could.

Your previously monthly schedule to hang out had turned into a weekly one. You both tried to meet up every weekend. Most of the time it was you who drove to his place–to his den–since being surrounded by him and his family was always incredibly comforting to you. It was always much, much better than your cold, borderline sterile flat.

He’d asked you to move in with him several times throughout the years, and you had never really entertained that offer, mostly because of your job–and maybe also because, at the time, your feelings for him were too hard to ignore even with the distance, so living with your best friend who you had deep feelings for simply would’ve made it all so much more difficult.

Now that you were officially A Thing, the offer hung in the air. Minho hadn’t asked again after you got together, but you knew it was on the tip of his tongue every time you both became tangled limbs on his bed. And even though he had not asked yet, you were still thinking about it, wondering what you would answer, and how you’d handle the aftermath of that answer.

If you said yes, you’d have to drop your job and try to find one closer to his place, and honestly, at this time, you weren’t sure you were ready to face the levels of anxiety job hunting always brought you to. But then, saying no wouldn’t have felt right at all, because, ultimately, you wanted to be as close to Minho as you could. You supposed it was for the best that he hadn’t talked to you about it yet, it’d give you more time to figure things out, to mentally prepare yourself.

The sound of your phone vibrating on your nightstand brought you back from your thoughts. You’d been waking up earlier than usual these days, probably because you had a lot of things on your mind, so you had been lying there for around an hour already, waiting for your alarm to go off.

The vibration wasn’t produced by your alarm, though. It was produced by an incoming message, so you stretched your arm, taking your phone from where it had been charging all night. A smile made its way to your face as you read the preview of a message you already expected to receive, and as you read the contact name your dear boyfriend had decided to add to his number no more than two days after you got together.

You wasted no more time and unlocked your phone to read the whole thread.

> MinhoTheBestBoyfriendEver: good morning kitten > did you sleep well? > was i in your dreams?

Minho had always had his own way of being clingy when you were friends. He’d sent messages throughout the day with any and every thought that he wanted to share with you, he’d try to hang out for as long as possible, or he would hug and cuddle you for hours when possible. Now, as your boyfriend, that clinginess had doubled, and you were honestly enjoying the extra attention he was giving you, just as much as you were enjoying his extra need for attention.

< You: Of course you were. < You’re the man of my dreams, after all.

> MinhoTheBestBoyfriendEver: 🙀🙀🙀🙀🙀 > 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 > cmon > tell me everything > dont you dare leave any details out

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you moved to your notes app, copying the text you’d written on this morning’s note and pasting it in the conversation with your boyfriend. It was a habit you’d picked up throughout the years, to write your dreams in a journal or your phone as soon as you woke up, so you wouldn’t forget. Minho knew, of course. So if he found out you dreamt something, he wanted to have every single detail.

Once you finally got out of bed that morning–at the protests of Sir Percival, your elderly cat that loved to cuddle you to sleep, a cat Minho himself had rescued when you were little–you started getting ready for your day. It was Thursday, but you were already excited for the weekend since you had taken a compensation day tomorrow, so you’d have three whole days you could potentially spend with your boyfriend. He didn’t know yet, though. Your plan was to surprise him tonight, and you hoped everything worked in your favour.

With a fresh face of makeup, dressed in your most professional outfit, you took the bag you kept ready in your closet, full with clean changes of clothes, pyjamas, underwear, toiletries, and anything you could need for your weekend out of the house. The bag was a bit more stuffed than usual today, all thanks to the other part of the surprise you had prepared.

Shooting your friend–and neighbour–a quick text to confirm she’d be able to take care of Sir Percival during your absence, you finally took your belongings and made your way out of your home, into the elevator, and finally to the basement, where your car was parked. Once you had placed the extra bag in the boot of your car, you opened your messaging app again, searching your conversation with one of Minho’s closest friends, and the alpha of his pack, Chris, so you could send him a text, too.

Thankfully, it seemed like Chris was awake already, because he replied almost immediately.

< You: Hellooooo, Mr Alpha of the Pack.

> Chris (Minho): hey mrs kitten of my left hand > hows it going

< You: All good, all good. < I was wondering if it was okay for me to stay over tonight? < And, subsequently, the entire weekend? < I wanna surprise Minho. Please don’t tell him.

> Chris (Minho): of course u can stay over > u dont even need to ask at this point tbh > also consider my mouth sealed shut > welcome back (:

As soon as you knew you could carry out your surprise the day seemed to slow down immensely. Work was just taking too long to be over, the minutes seemed to be lasting a hundred and twenty seconds instead of sixty, and by the time five o’clock rolled in you were already coming out of the office and practically sprinting to your car.

As soon as you sat down on the driver’s seat and secured your seat belt, you checked your phone to see if your boyfriend had answered the message you had sent him earlier in the day. Thankfully, he had just replied.

< You: How’re you doing, baby? < How’s work?

> MinhoTheBestBoyfriendEver: hi kitten > on a break rn > but im pissed > people are just so bad at taking care of their furry friends > cuz theres this like huge ass dog that swallowed a ball > a whole ball baby can you believe? > all cuz these people just werent paying attention to him > hes done this before you know? > im gonna have to stay back for a few hours > he needs surgery > and im the only one that can carry him around > so im pissed > sorry for rambling ☹

You did feel bad for Minho, you knew these things usually got to him, especially since he could quite literally understand his furry patients. However, you also felt relieved, because his overtime meant you would be able to sneak into his flat no problem.

< You: Aw, baby, I’m sorry 🙁 < That sucks. < I hope the big baby makes it just fine. < Do you need a pick-me-up?

You had this habit with Minho even before when you were just friends. When your day was rough either of you two would offer a pick-me-up, which previously consisted of sending cute pictures of Sir Percival, or memes, or just videos of cute animals in general. Lately, though, your pick-me-ups had turned a bit more… Intimate.

> MinhoTheBestBoyfriendEver: god yea > i could use a pickmeup > you can send whatever you want > anything really > but if it influences your decision > know that im alone in the break room > and that i miss you a lot > a whole lot

You chuckled, amused at just how Minho would take every chance you presented to him. So you went into that private folder in your gallery, searching for the most recent pictures you’d taken, the ones with the new lingerie set that you had yet to use.

< You: [sent a photo] < [sent a photo] < [sent a photo] < [sent a photo]

> MinhoTheBestBoyfriendEver: ffffuck me > thats a pickmeup alright > look at you > is that new? > that bras so fucking sheer tf > barely covering your tits > you should bring that tomorrow > so i can rip it off of you

< You: I’ll see what I can do 😇 < Going to start driving now. < Let’s talk later, yeah?

> MinhoTheBestBoyfriendEver: alright kitten > drive safe > lmk when youre home

You didn’t have that particular set in your bag today, but you were sure that what you did have would be even better.

Recently, Minho and his pack had added these digital door locks to the doors of their den. You’d always had a spare key to Minho’s flat for emergencies, but now whenever you came here and tapped the exact date of the day you and Minho met made you feel incredibly special, maybe embarrassingly so.

You still remember when Minho told you that was the number combination he had decided to use. He’d presented his cheek to you and asked ‘aren’t I the best boyfriend ever?’ to which you couldn’t help but laugh, kissing his cheek and replying ‘you’re the cutest boyfriend ever’.

You gave him amazing head an uncountable amount of times that weekend.

As soon as you were inside you settled your belongings in his room, and took your time to freshen up. After around thirty minutes of you being in his flat, Minho had sent you a message whining that he had finally been able to leave work and that he was dying to be home already. So you quickly got yourself ready, after all, the surprise you’d prepared today wasn’t just your presence.

You’d honestly been wanting to try this for a while; you’d been eyeing this entire lingerie set and its added accessories for months, and a couple of weeks ago you finally got the courage to get it. Was it a bit corny? Perhaps. But you knew Minho, and you were certain that the combination of the black top with the cat-shaped cutout in the middle showing where your breasts met, the flimsy panties that could very well be called lacy straps more than anything else, the black stockings with squishy paw pads, the choker with a dangling bell around your neck, the cat ears clipped to your hair, and the plug with the attached black tail inside your ass would make him lose it. Which was exactly what you wanted.

A riled up Minho meant a riled up werewolf boyfriend that’d fuck you silly, and after spending days without seeing him, that was exactly what you were craving tonight.

Your heart almost leaped out of your chest when you heard the characteristic beep, beep, beeps of the front door’s keypad. They were obnoxiously loud and they seemed to bounce off the walls and shoot right inside of you, making you all giddy. So you got comfortable on Minho’s bed, laying on your stomach, adjusting your tail so it’d rest over your back, and propping your chin on your hands.

Very quickly, the sound of the door closing shut was replaced with the sound of your boyfriend sighing, coupled with an ungraceful thud as you figured Minho dropped his bag by the entrance. And suddenly, everything was quiet.

“No fucking way!” You couldn’t help but smile as you heard your boyfriend’s footsteps grow closer. “Please tell me I’m not fucking hallucinating your scent in my house right now, that’d be so mean…”

As soon as he reached the open bedroom door, he brought a hand to his chest and gasped. The surprise lasted a second, because he immediately crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk on his face. “Well, well, well… What do we have here?”

“Welcome home, Minho”, you gave him a smile, just as you kicked your stocking clad feet in the air.

“Well…” Minho walked to the bed, stopping by the end of it and reaching for one of the cat ears clipped to your hair to flick it softly. “It seems like a kitten has truly made her way into my house, hm?”

You–very shamelessly if you might add–moved your gaze from his eyes to his crotch, seeing the bulge in his trousers grow with every second he looked at you, and it sent a rush of excitement down your spine. Returning your eyes to his, you simply smiled at him again before you rolled onto your back, exposing your stomach to him.

The motion had the plug in your ass moving a bit, and immediately you felt yourself heat up with arousal, especially so as you took notice of Minho’s blown pupils, and his borderline predatory stare.

“I was just missing my wolf boyfriend so bad. Figured I’d pay him a visit. Give him a little surprise”, you dragged your hands down your torso, from your chest, all the way down to squeeze them right between your bent legs.

“Mmm…” Tipping his head to the side a bit, Minho’s eyes fixed for a moment on the exposed skin of your breasts, only to move along to your exposed stomach. “I’d say it’s more than a little surprise”.

“Do you like it, though?”

“Kitten”, Minho’s eyes snapped back to yours. He moved his hand to his crotch, effectively diverting your attention to the movement just as he cupped himself over his trousers. “Look how fucking hard I am. I’m absolutely fucking delighted”.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, reaching for his crotch, too, slipping your hand between his and the denim, giving him a hefty squeeze.

“Baby, wait. I have to take a shower”, despite his words, his hips bucked, chasing the warmth of your palm as you pressed it a bit more firmly against his erection. “I’m serious. I’m probably covered in all sorts of animal fluids”.

“You could be covered in my fluids, though”.

“God”, Minho dragged his hands over his face, pulling himself away from you entirely and walking towards the door, making you pout. You knew he was right, he surely needed his shower, but the ache that had steadily been building between your legs as soon as he stepped into the room was just too strong to ignore.

Before he disappeared into the hall, he turned to you again. “Wait for me right there, okay? Just like that. Won’t be long, promise”.

So you giggled, reaching for your phone as soon as he was out of your sight to keep yourself entertained while he was in the bathroom.

The sight of your boyfriend, all flushed from his hot shower, with droplets still travelling down his torso that got caught on the towel he had wrapped around his hips, was, quite honestly, mouth watering. As soon as he was standing at the end of the bed, with a smirk plastered on his pretty face, you just reached for the towel, letting it fall on the floor to find his already hard length.

“And I haven’t even touched you, baby”, you chuckled, licking your lips, looking up at him from where you were lying on the bed, still on your back, right where he left you. Even upside down, you still found Minho to be one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen, and you honestly felt incredibly happy you could be here with him right now.

“You didn’t need to”, he walked closer, placing a hand on your cheek as he looked down at you. “I got so fucking hard just thinking about you being out here while I was in the shower. Now, kitten, come a bit closer to the edge and open up. Hm?”

You just did as asked, letting your head fall over the edge of the bed as your boyfriend took a hold of his length and guided it to your mouth. You couldn’t help but moan as soon as he eased himself inside, just like it didn’t seem like he could hold back the groan that left his lips as soon as your lips wrapped around his cock.

“Mmm… Fuck”, with a deep inhale, Minho threw his head back, starting to rock his hips, fucking your mouth, and the sounds coming out of his mouth, coupled with the feel of him slowly easing into in and out of our throat had you pressing your thighs together.

Minho took his time with you from then on, teasing you, bringing you to the brink of insanity numerous times. He played and toyed with you however he pleased, getting you close to your high with his hands before he slowed down his motions to let it dwindle down, only to do it all over again with his mouth. He did this several times, for a while, until you were desperately begging to be fucked.

‘Hands and knees, kitten. Ass in the air, just like the queen you are. I’ll fuck you just how you want’, and how could you not comply when your body felt tingly all over? From Minho’s words to the way he held your hips as he plunged his cock into your aching heat, all combined had your senses on overdrive, all thoughts finally flying out the window as soon as he started to pound you to the bed, reducing you to a moaning, borderline pathetic mess.

The force of his thrusts had the bell around your neck tinkling with every harsh smack of his hips against your rear, barely even audible over the sound of your desperate pleas and his blissed grunts. His pace didn’t relent until you were shaking with your release, until he pushed you to the brink of overstimulation chasing his own, until the results of his high painted your back as a drawn out groan came from his lips.

The soaked washcloth on your back made your body jolt. ‘Shh, you scaredy cat. It’s okay’, Minho mumbled as he cleaned you up, offering words of encouragement while he helped you get out of your soiled outfit, removing each item one by one–taking special care with the tail plug to avoid any discomfort, wiping away any remnants of lube or cum off of your body.

As soon as you were completely nude and clean enough, you finally plopped on the bed with a satisfied sigh, feeling incredibly light and content. Minho pulled you into his arms, placing a kiss on your forehead as he hugged you tightly. “Mmm… That was so good, baby. Best girlfriend ever. My dearest kitten, I missed you so much”.

You chuckled, feeling your heart swell in your chest as you cuddled closer to him. “Missed you, too, baby”, you pressed a brief kiss on his chest before you rested your head over his heart, listening to its slightly accelerated pace. “How was your day? How was it with the big baby?”

So Minho started talking, recounting any and every detail he could remember of his work day. You could listen to him speak for hours, honestly. Especially at times like these, when his volume was this low, when his words came out slowly, when he looked this peaceful.

He asked about your day, too, of course. He always did. So you told him, only the details worth telling, not really feeling like thinking about your boring job right now. Minho knew that anyway, he’d always known you hardly ever felt like talking about it, so he never pressed for any extra details unless he got particularly intrigued by something–meaning, unless any possible office gossip was mildly interesting.

These days, though, there had been something on your mind, so you figured now was as good a time as any to talk about it. “Just out of curiosity…” You mumbled, playing with Minho’s fingers. “When is your rut starting?”

You knew about ruts. You’ve known since Minho’s very first rut when you were still teens, but he never really liked to talk about them. He always seemed to avoid the topic completely whenever you tried to ask him about it before. Most of the knowledge you had on the topic was given to you by Jisung or the other girls at the den, but you wanted to know about your boyfriend’s experience specifically.

“How do you feel about hot dogs for dinner?” Was all Minho replied, immediately untangling his limbs from yours and getting up from the bed.

You blinked a few times, confused at the sudden question, watching him put on the joggers he kept folded on his nightstand and leave the bedroom entirely. Was he… Was Minho ignoring your question? Why? It was a normal thing to ask, wasn’t it? You were his partner, you assumed you had to know these things.

So you stood up from the bed, making your way to the dresser to fish a fresh pair of panties from your bag to cover yourself, and one of Minho’s oversized t-shirts to pull it over your head. If Minho thought he was going to avoid the subject like he had done all these years he was certainly in for a surprise.

You found your boyfriend walking around his kitchen, getting pots from the oven and ingredients from the fridge. Leaning on the kitchen island, you crossed your arms over your chest, focusing your gaze on him.

“Do you want one or tw–”

“Why are you changing the subject?” You interrupted him, voice level, looking him right in the eyes. “I know you’ve never liked talking about your ruts, but now that I’m your girlfriend I figured I should be prepared, so I’d like to–”

“Prepared?” Minho was looking at you like you had three heads, like what you were saying made no sense. “You don’t need to be prepared for anything, kitten. Don’t worry about it”, he returned to his task, dismissing you entirely–or at least, you felt like he was dismissing you.

Walking his way, you got between him and the sink, where he was about to place a pot–to fill it with water, you presume. You saw Minho’s Adam’s apple bob, looking anywhere but your eyes.

“Minho. Look at me”.

He sighed, placing the pot next to you on the counter. Turning away from you, Minho brought his hands to his hair, ruffling it and tugging at it.

“Minho–”

“I’m not spending my rut with you”, Minho cut you off, and your eyes widened immediately. “So you don’t have to worry about that”.

You knew from Jisung and the girls that werewolves, especially alphas, preferred to have a companion to get through their rut, and also that, whenever they found themselves going into rut and they had a significant other, they craved said significant other the entire time, which was why his words stung. They pierced your heart, more than you ever thought they would.

“You don’t… Want to spend your rut with me?” You could feel your hands tremble, just as you felt your heart sink to your stomach.

“No”, Minho replied firmly.

You scoffed. The tremble in your hands seemed to increase, not only because you were hurt, but also because, all of a sudden, you were absolutely pissed. “So you don’t want me”, your voice was way too level, cold, scarily so.

“It’s not… It’s not like that”, Minho looked slightly alarmed, shaking his head, and with his eyes wide open. Still, he took a step closer to you, but you moved away.

“What is it, then?”

“I just… Don’t want to”, he swallowed, once again avoiding your eyes. “Can we–Maybe we can talk about this some other time, right now’s not–”

“I want to talk about this now, though. That’s why I asked”, you could feel the lump form in your throat the longer you looked at Minho, the longer he stayed quiet. It went on for a while, a thick, uncomfortable aura settled between you two. You’d never had such an unnerving exchange with Minho, so this was a completely unfamiliar territory.

Eventually, you just couldn’t take it anymore. “Fine, then. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s alright. I can’t stay here, though”, you walked past him and made your way towards the front door.

“Wait–!” was the last thing you heard Minho say before you slammed the door closed.

You were barefoot, still wearing only his shirt and your underwear. And as soon as you stepped out into the building’s corridor, you felt tears prick your eyes. The trembling in your hands seemed to have doubled, so you decided to go to the closest place you knew you’d be able to find comfort.

“It’s okay… It’s probably not what you’re thinking”, Jisung mumbled, caressing your hair, hugging you tightly against his chest while you cried.

“What else could it be, though?” You said between hiccups. Had it been anyone else, you would’ve probably felt embarrassed to be this emotional over something like this. But this was Jisung, your biggest confidant–second only to Minho in that regard.

Pulling yourself away from his chest, you rubbed the tears away with the back of your hand, feeling furious again. “Don’t you crave your partner when you’re in heat?”

“Yes, of course, but–”

“See?!”

“Listen to me”, Jisung held you by the shoulders, tightly, trying to ground you. “First of all, I’m an omega. The way I feel during my heat is different from the way he might feel during his rut. We’re instinctually different, yeah?”, you nodded, so he continued. “Second of all… Minho, he… He wasn’t born like this, remember? He’s a bit… Peculiar”.

“How so?”

“I can’t really explain it well, you know me… But he just… He’s really good at ignoring his instincts. So maybe… It’s something like that?” Jisung sighed, pulling you back into his chest. “I don’t know, babes. Minho’s a weird wolf”.

“He was a weird human, too”, you mumbled, rubbing your face on his top. “My weirdo…”

“I don’t doubt it”, Jisung chuckled as he kept caressing your hair, and honestly, it was helping you a lot. Even if you were still crying, at least you felt heard.

You both stayed in silence, until eventually Jisung fell back on the sofa with you in his arms, caressing your back or your hair, still trying to soothe you. You appreciated it. It wasn’t really in Jisung’s nature to care for people, but he often did, anyway. Or, at least, he tried his very best. He loved being on the receiving end of cuddles, but he also loved giving them, and he was great at it, too.

After a while, you pulled yourself from his chest, wiping your face with the back of your hand again. “You mind if I stay here tonight?”

“‘Course not. Minho wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I denied you shelter. Even when you’re asking for it because you’re mad at him”, Jisung chuckled, and it made you smile a bit.

You couldn’t help but pinch one of his adorably round cheeks. “You’re like the little brother I never had, you know?”

��I know”, he was positively beaming, and it warmed you up from the inside out. But then you thought about your boyfriend again, and you felt your lower lip wobble. Jisung looked at you, alarmed. You only saw him for a second, because you were burying your face in his chest again, crying again. He just held you tighter, sighing.

It was going to be a long night and you both knew it.

The gentle light filtering through the drapes was hitting your face, warming you up. You stirred awake, turning under the covers to lay on your other side. Even though your mind was still hazy, you still registered the presence in the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. You assumed it was Jisung, so you got your hand out of the covers, blindly trying to find him.

“Morning”, you mumbled, finally making contact with his warm upper arm, and you patted him a few times.

“Morning”.

It wasn’t Jisung’s voice that greeted you. It was your boyfriend’s.

Your eyes snapped open. Minho was wearing just some washed out vest top and his grey joggers–the ones that were already too old and thin to wear out, the ones that he just used around the house, and his hair was tousled. Had he just gotten out of bed?

“Here you go. Drink up”, he handed you a glass of water. As soon as you saw the vessel filled almost to the top with liquid you realised just how much your head was throbbing, and how parched your mouth felt. You must’ve cried way more last night than you’d realised.

Sitting up, you stretched your limbs, and a small squeak left your lips with the motion. You took the glass from him, dawning it in one go, all as he just looked at you.

You were both silent for a moment, a long moment of you just looking at the glass in your hand and him looking at you. You could feel his gaze on you the entire time, but you didn’t dare speak first. You honestly didn’t even know what to say.

“It’s not that I don’t want you”, Minho broke the silence first, and he turned his gaze to his lap, where he linked his fingers together, playing with his thumbs. “Please, don’t ever think I don’t want you. You’re the most important person in my life, in this entire world, you know that, right?”

You looked at him for a moment. You still felt hurt, but after your crying session with Jisung last night, and after hydrating some, you realised you might have jumped to conclusions. You knew, of course. You knew you were Minho’s favourite person in this world. Because he always showed that to you.

All these years, Minho had not only told you that, but he had also always shown you how important you were to him. Just as he was to you. So you sighed, placing the glass on the nightstand and shuffling closer to him. “I do know that”.

Taking his hand in yours, you caressed his knuckles with your thumb. “But you do understand where I’m coming from with what I asked you last night, right?”

Minho sighed. “I do…”

He squeezed your hand briefly, only to bring it to his mouth to place a small kiss on the back of it.

“I’m… Scared”, out of all the things Minho could’ve said, those weren’t exactly the words you were expecting to hear, and they really took you by surprise, especially when he said them so quietly, almost as if he was embarrassed by them.

“Scared of what?”

Minho finally looked at your face, cupping your cheek with his free hand, dragging his thumb over the dried tears on your skin. “Baby, when I’m going through my rut not wanting you is exactly the opposite of what actually happens. All these years, every single rut, every single one, all I ever wanted was you”.

You felt yourself flush. “You did?”

“Mm… I’ve always wanted you, but twice a year, for as long as we’ve been friends, it’s heightened tenfold. Why do you think I never wanted to talk to you about my ruts? Do you not remember how I couldn’t look at your face for a month after I got the first one? The thoughts that roam in my head when I’m going through it are just… Filthy”.

“Minho… I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but you already say and do filthy things when we have sex?”

Minho chuckled at that, shaking his head a bit. “I mean, it’s not just what goes through my head… It’s what happens when those thoughts cross my mind”, he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before he continued talking. “I get so… Violent when I’m going through my rut… I… I’m really scared I’ll hurt you”.

Oh.

That was something you certainly hadn’t considered. But, Minho being violent for real didn’t seem to match him at all. He loved to pretend that he was mean and murderous, but, in reality, that wasn’t your Minho. “How… How violent?”

“I’ve broken beds before”, Minho shrugged. “And dressers. Doors… Many appliances… All by accident, but I did. Kitten, baby, you know I’m also an animal… I really don’t know how I’d react to your presence when I’m seriously feral. I… Don’t want to hurt you. I’d never be able to forgive myself if I did”.

He looked genuinely concerned, like he’d been hurting with this for a long time, and it made your heart feel heavy in your chest. So you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, nodding in understanding. That was when Minho finally leaned in closer, pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead, then one on the tip of your nose, one on each cheek, and finally, one on your lips.

“I’m sorry I made you feel unwanted, baby. I should’ve… Communicated it better”, he mumbled the words on your cheek, placing a kiss on your skin again for good measure.

“You should’ve”, you mumbled back, finally looping your arms around his neck to pull him close, just as he hugged your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “But I’m sorry, too. You didn’t want to talk about it, and I pushed it”.

“I forgive you”, he pressed kisses on your neck, slow, tender kisses that had your heart fluttering in your chest and heat settling on your face.

“Me too…” You hugged him tighter, getting lost in his body heat and the feeling of his lips on your skin.

Minho shuffled around, getting under the duvet, and pulling you into his chest. “Let’s not go to bed without settling an argument ever again. Please?”

“Okay”, you mumbled against his chest, enjoying the smell of his fabric softener when you took a deep breath. “I’m sorry…”

“Me too”, he repeated, holding you a bit tighter, pressing a brief kiss to the top of your head.

After a maximum of ten seconds of silence, a couple of loud knocks made you jolt in Minho’s hold.

“You guys want pancakes?”

“Jisung! Were you eavesdropping?!” Minho shouted, making you laugh because of course Jisung was eavesdropping. It was Jisung.

“I won’t answer any accusatory questions without our Pack Mum here!”

You intercepted as you saw Minho was about to engage in possibly the pettiest discussion to ever happen in this flat. “Yes, Jisung! Yes, we want pancakes! Thank you, sweetie, you’re a great friend!”

The sound of Jisung’s footsteps got quieter the further down the hall he went, going towards the kitchen, you presumed. Just as you heard his shout of ‘of course I am!’

Minho scoffed, but he pulled you back into his chest. “You’re spoiling him rotten”.

“Technically, he’s yours to care for, Mr Left Hand of the Pack. I’m just the cool step-mum”, you chuckled, angling your head a bit to press kisses on his jaw. “Besides, don’t you want pancakes?”

“I do want pancakes”, Minho grumbled, rubbing his cheek on the top of your head, probably tangling your hair a bit in the process.

You both went silent after that, simply cuddling under the covers and sharing your warmth until Jisung called you to the kitchen for breakfast. You’d admit his pancakes were to die for, and after the rollercoaster of emotions you’d gone through the last handful of hours, you were grateful for the familiarity of a breakfast with Minho and Jisung. They always made you laugh with their antics, something that didn’t seem to change as the years went by–if anything, both of them just seemed to get funnier and weirder with age, and you loved to see it. You just loved them both with your whole heart.

With a stomach full of both sweet and savoury pancakes, with your boyfriend’s warm hand in yours, and a heart full of love, you just made your way back into Minho’s flat. The second you stepped into the threshold he just scooped you in his arms, making you giggle as he pressed kisses on your cheeks, taking you with him to the bathroom.

‘Need to get ready for work, want to shower with me?’ were the last coherent words coming out of Minho’s mouth before you found yourself drenched in lukewarm water, with your back against the cold tiles and his head between your legs, mumbling reassuring words against the skin of your inner thighs as he moved towards his destination.

‘Me not wanting you? Absurd. That’s absurd, kitten. I’ll show you just how much I want you’.

He might’ve been running late after that, but he still placed you on the kitchen counter once you were both dressed and squeaky clean, slotting himself between your legs and kissing you one last time. ‘Later, after work… Wanna take you to the park, to that ice-cream parlour you like. What do you think, kitten? Wanna go on a date with me?’ and, honestly, how could you refuse.

The girls of the pack had become good friends to you, which was quite refreshing. When it came to close friendships, you’d only ever had Minho and Jisung, which, even if you loved them to death, wasn’t the same as having friends that had gone through similar experiences in life–after all, the experience of being A Girl surrounded by supernatural creatures was a whole thing. Sure, you had one close female friend–your neighbour that usually took care of Sir Percival when you were gone–but even if you were comfortable when she was with you, there were things you just couldn’t talk about with her, so having these two girls in your life now was quite comforting.

Getting to sit on Chris’ sofa, with his girlfriend on one side, and Changbin’s girlfriend on the other while drinking a cup of relaxing tea was one of your favourite activities lately. Whenever you dropped by, you’d always try to make some time to hang out with them, and sometimes, like now, you liked to hear their opinions on certain things.

So, as soon as they were both available, and while you waited for Minho to get back from work, you seeked their advice.

The topic of discussion today was your boyfriend’s rut. Since Minho had always been very reserved when it came to giving you details about it, you honestly felt a bit lost, so you hoped the girls could help you understand the situation better. The conversation started after they swore they’d keep the details of what you talked about between you three, just like you always did whenever any of you needed some advice on a very private topic.

“Minho doesn’t really peg me as the violet type”, Chris’ girlfriend said as soon as you finished explaining the situation, looking thoughtful while her fingers tapped the mug in her hand.

“I agree”, Changbin’s girlfriend placed her empty mug on the coffee table, proceeding to turn to you and cross her legs on the sofa. “I’ve dealt with violent alphas before, and I don’t think Minho fits the criteria, to be honest…”

You grimaced a little at her words. You knew her story, how she had run away from an abusive pack with an equally abusive alpha, so you didn’t doubt her judgement, but it all only made you more confused. “Then? Why do you think he’d get violent during his ruts?”

She looked at you for a moment, pondering. After a few more moments, she finally spoke again. “Alphas… When they go through their ruts it’s hard for them to deal with their needs. Do you know if he gets violent when there’s another person involved?”

You shook your head. “As far as I’m aware, there’s never been another person involved”.

“Huh… Maybe that’s his problem”.

“Makes sense to me”, Chris’ girlfriend placed her mug on the coffee table and crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the backrest, looking at the ceiling. “When Chris is going through his rut he’s so… Needy. In his own way, of course… I wonder how he dealt with it before we got together”.

As if on cue, the obnoxious beeps of the door’s keypad started to resonate in the flat. The door opened seconds later, followed by a tired groan and a thud–probably produced by Chris dropping his bag on the floor.

Chris came into the living room looking tired as ever, but still with a smile on his face. “Didn’t realise you were having a girl’s night. I would’ve gone straight to Changbin’s”.

As soon as he made it to the sofa he bent at the waist to peck his girlfriend’s lips, making her giggle a bit as she offered him a ‘welcome home’ and a ‘it’s alright, baby. It was an impromptu thing’.

“Actually, now that you’re here…” You said when Chris finally pulled himself away from his girl and started to take things out of his pockets to place them on the kitchen counter. “Can I ask you a question? A very personal one?”

“Sure”, Chris replied simply, focusing on the items in his hands.

“What’s it like when you’re going through your rut?”

Chris’ face snapped in your direction, looking at you for a second only to turn to his girlfriend right after as a blush started to settle on his cheeks. “Wow, that’s… That’s certainly a personal question…”

“God, you can’t just ask that”, Changbin’s girlfriend laughed next to you. “Let me rephrase what our dear kitten here is curious about… Being more specific, if you went through your rut, and you didn’t have someone to spend it with, how’d you feel?”

“I don’t even want to ask what you guys were talking about before I came here, God…” Chris rounded the kitchen counter, going straight for the sink and opening the tap to wash his hands. “Guess it depends”.

“On?” His girlfriend urged, watching him return from the kitchen after he wiped his hands on a rag.

Chris sat next to his girlfriend, on the armrest of the sofa. “Well… Before I met you, it was okay-ish if I had to spend it on my own. I mean, it still hurt like hell, and I’d be incredibly frustrated the entire time, but I managed just fine”.

“And after?” You asked, although based on what Chris just said, you had a hunch as to what his answer would be.

“If I recall correctly, I went into rut only once after you moved in”, even if he was answering your question, Chris had his full attention on his girl as he said it, but after taking her hand in his and giving it a squeeze he finally turned to look at you. “It was probably one of the worst ruts I’ve ever gone through in my life. It just… Hurt so bad. Everything hurt, and nothing I did made it better”.

“Baby, you never told me this”, Chris’ girlfriend placed her free hand on his thigh, pouting and giving him a squeeze, making him chuckle.

“It never came up”, Chris shrugged. “But, yeah… I think I almost broke the bathtub at some point because I was beyond frustrated… I think I could say I was borderline enraged. I honestly don’t know if I would’ve been able to stand another rut like that”.

Chris changed the topic after that. He stayed for a handful of minutes more, until he finally excused himself and made his way to the bathroom. As soon as he was gone, Changbin’s girlfriend placed a hand on your shoulder, whispering a ‘I think you’ve got your answer, then’.

And you also thought you did. After all, if Minho only ever wanted you during his ruts, the most logical conclusion to you was that the reason he got violent was because he simply couldn’t have you, and the rest seemed to agree.

The girls gave you their experience when it came to being with their partner’s while they went into their rut. They gave you pointers, advice, how to prep, all valuable information you were immensely glad to have. And after all that, you honestly didn’t feel as clueless anymore.

After that long weekend at Minho’s den, you never spoke about his rut again. You tried to bring up the topic a couple of times, but Minho still wasn’t ready to talk about it just yet, which you realised was something you simply had to accept. You couldn’t push him to tell you things when he didn’t feel comfortable doing so, and you honestly didn’t want to push him to talk about things that made him uncomfortable, so you offered one last ‘it’s okay, then. Whenever you feel like talking, I’ll be here. Hm?’ which he seemed to be immensely grateful for.

Minho still hadn’t asked you to move in with him again, but, after a couple of months, you realised he’d started to free up some space for you, or he’d add things to his flat for when you came over. All of a sudden, there were two bathrobes in his bathroom, two different sets of towels, all articles of clothing you’d forgotten over the weekend started to appear neatly folded inside a suspiciously empty drawer in his closet, to the point where sometimes you couldn’t find in your flat something you wanted to wear, only to find it that weekend in Minho’s closet or his dresser.

Which was why, at this point, whenever you went to visit you hardly ever took any extra baggage with you. Everything you could possibly ever need was already at his place, so sometimes, whenever you felt like it, you found yourself driving to his den to visit him, just like you were doing today.

You had the day off, so you just made sure Sir Percival had enough food, checked with your neighbour that she could check on him throughout the day, and you went on your way. You wanted to be there before Minho left for work, so you left very early in the morning to surprise him.

However, it seemed like the one that was in for a surprise was you.

As soon as the door of Minho’s flat closed behind you, you were almost winded by how fast everything happened.

Logically, you knew Minho was a supernatural being. He had enhanced senses, as well as enhanced abilities. You didn’t even see him coming, you just felt your back hit the door, the warmth of his body pressed flush against yours, and his panting in your ear.

“What… What are you doing here?” Minho rasped. His entire form was taut, he had his hands planted firmly against the door at either side of you, caging you in place. Immediately, you just knew something wasn’t quite right. How much warmer he felt against your body, the thin sheen of sweat covering his skin…

His rut.

Minho’s rut had started.

And you were here. Probably severely unprepared.

“I’m… I…” You gulped, suddenly feeling light-headed. The girls had told you you could be affected by his pheromones, but until now you hadn’t fully understood just how much. Your heart was racing, your hands trembled slightly at your sides, and heat was quickly pooling in the pit of your stomach.

Minho pressed his nose against your pulse point, inhaling deeply, and the sigh that came out of his lips after had you blushing immediately. “Answer me, kitten”.

“I just… Missed you, and…” You heard his fingers drag by your sides, producing an almost squeak-like sound with the movement because of how sweaty his palms were.

“Leave”, Minho all but choked on the word. Fuck, you wanted to touch him… You wanted him to touch you, and that need had you pressing your thighs together to try and ease some of the ache that was quickly building between your legs. “Shit, you smell so fucking good, kitten… So–” He moved closer to your neck–if that was even possible–and for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you there, but then he was shaking his head, pulling back just the tiniest bit. “Leave now. I won’t… Be able to stay coherent and hold myself back for much longer”.

You licked your lips, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply. “No”.

“Kitten–”

“I won’t leave”, you said firmly.

“Baby… Please–”

“I trust you, Minho”, you turned your head slightly, enough so you were almost whispering in his ear. “I trust you. I want you. Take me–”

In an instant, his mouth was on yours and his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tight against his body as your arms looped around his neck. Your whole body seemed to be alight, and the growl that resonated from deep inside of him as soon as his lips were on yours completely drowned your own moan of delight. With a hand holding the back of your head Minho angled you however he pleased, pushing his tongue inside your mouth, kissing you as if he were a starved man, as if the moment he stopped you’d vanish.

“You fucking…”

Minho detached himself from you enough to pull your shirt over your head.

“Come in here…”

Shoving his hands down your joggers, he dropped to his knees and pushed them down along with your underwear.

“Smelling like…”

Yanking your shoes off and finally pulling your bottoms fully off of you.

“A proper queen in heat…”

With a tight hold on your hips, he flipped you around, the motion eliciting a moan from your lips.

“Driving me fucking insane…”

He pulled your hips back, and you pressed your chest to the door, arching your back to give him better access once his hands found your buttcheeks, gripping you tightly and spreading you open. Cold air hit your centre, but that rush of cold was quickly replaced by the warmth of Minho’s tongue licking a fat stripe from your clit all the way up to your ass, making him groan in absolute ecstasy, making you groan in absolute ecstasy.

“My sweet, sweet kitten. All drenched and ready for me, huh?”

You desperately nodded, moaning as soon as his tongue was back on your heat, deliciously licking your clit as his hold on your buttocks tightened ever so slightly. “Just for you–”

“Fuck…” In a second, Minho was back on his feet, pressing his chest to your back, bringing his hands to your front to immediately dip two fingers into your dripping hole, just as he pressed two fingers on your clit with the other, making you tremble in his hold. “Gotta stretch you out, hm? Get you ready for your alpha, yeah?”

“Ye–yeah”, you could barely recognise the sound of your own voice, all your senses were focused on Minho, Minho, Minho, and his fingers inside of you, and his rumbling chest against your back, and his fingers on your clit, and the sound of his voice so incredibly low next to your ear.

Minho was working you up increasingly fast. Your high was approaching at an alarming pace, he shoved another finger into you, pushing them in and out, and the squelching sound was loud enough for you to hear among his rumble and his heavy breathing. You could feel him, hard, leaking fluids all over your ass as he kept working you up, as he kept rubbing your clit faster, thrusting his fingers harder, making your legs tremble.

“Gonna stuff you so full, fuck… I want you so, so bad…” As he eased his fourth finger into you, all you could do was pathetically whine, getting lost in the feel of him in you, around you, and all you wanted was for him to shove his monster cock inside of you, uncaring if he ripped you in half in the process.

“Want you, baby… Need you”, you panted, rolling your hips to stimulate his length where it squished between your bodies.

Minho just pressed himself further against you, snarling in that utterly animalistic fashion a wolf would to stop your movements. He shook his head, speeding his fingers on your clit, eliciting a breathy moan from your lips. “Need to stretch you first, kitten. Need it, hm?”

You just whined in response, pressing your cheek against the cool door, finally submitting completely to your boyfriend. For a brief moment you were reminded of how physically different Minho was to you. He was able to produce sounds no human could, sounds you hardly ever heard from him when he was in his human form, and, coupled with his digits working you up, it was, quite honestly, getting you so incredibly close to your release you started to feel tears prick your eyes.

“Minho, baby–”

Minho’s fingers moved impossibly faster as soon as his name left your lips, and you could feel your essence start to drip between your legs. “Come on, kitten. Give it to me, yeah? Come for me, my love”.

With a few more flicks of his fingers on your already sensitive nub, you finally tipped over the edge, just as a mix of swear words and your boyfriend’s name and many pet names escaped your mouth. Blinding-hot pleasure raked your entire body, making you shake in Minho’s hold.

“That’s it, baby. Good, good kitten. God, you’re just a perfect little thing, aren’t you?”

You could hardly hear Minho over the ringing in your ears. You felt your legs jolt as he kept stimulating your clit, and, very quickly, you realised he had no plans to stop the movement of his hands.

“Min–Minho–”

“Shh, it’s okay. I know you can give me another. Please, please give me another, hm? Need it…”

“Oh, fuck–Minho, fuck–”

His pace didn’t relent until you were coming again, until tears collected in your lower lash line only to finally fall and paint roads on your cheeks. That consecutive high turned your limbs into jelly, it made you slump completely in your boyfriend’s hold once he finally removed his fingers from your core.

“So good, baby. You did well, kitten. So well for me…” He mumbled the words against your hair, letting you catch your breath just for a moment, just until you were able to stand on your feet unaided.

In a swift movement, he turned you around and scooped you into his arms, making you yelp when he pressed you hard against the door. Your legs wrapped around his waist for stability, just as your arms looped around his neck to keep yourself secure–not like Minho seemed to have any plans to let you fall, considering how hard he was holding onto you, how he was practically squishing you against the door as he ravished your mouth.

“Minho… Minho, baby, want you inside”, you whimpered as soon as his lips attached to your neck, sucking harshly on your skin to leave love bites all over. You had just had two earth-shattering orgasms, but you needed more. The desperation you felt to have your boyfriend’s cock inside of you was clinging to you like never before, and as soon as the words left your mouth, you felt his tip at your entrance, drenching you in his slick, mixing it with your own juices.

“Inside, huh? Here? Right here, kitten?” He eased fully into you in one swift motion, deliciously filling you up to your limits, making you throw your head back against the door and moan a string of noises that were akin to his name. “Fuck… Fuck, fuck, fuck–”

Minho immediately started to ram into you. No build up, just straight up pounding you to his flat’s door as if he’d die otherwise, making it rattle with each thrust. Had you not been so incredibly cock-drunk, you would’ve probably felt slightly embarrassed at the possibility of anyone walking by the corridor and hearing you, but instead, that brief thought only made you clench around your boyfriend’s length, aroused at the idea that everyone would know how good he was making you feel, that everyone knew just who you belonged to.

“So fucking good, shit. Almost feels… As if this cunt… Was made for me”.

You swallowed, feeling yourself clench harder around his length, feeling your tits rub against his chest and your clit against his pubic bone every time he moved. “It was–”

“Yeah, it fucking was”, he was fucking you impossibly harder now, and you were already past the speaking point, your mouth only able to produce unintelligible noises of pleasure as he kept ramming his cock into that sweet spot inside your walls, as he kept stretching you time and time again.

After a while, you started to feel the sting between your legs, and you vaguely registered the whimper that came out of your mouth.

Minho started to lick your cheeks, an oddly tender gesture compared to the way he was borderline rearranging your insides with his supernatural cock. “Shh… Kitten, it’s okay. You’ll take it just fine. I just know it. I’m gonna fill you to the brim, mark your delicious cunt as mine, hm?”

You just nodded in response, unable to say anything else, whimpering and whining and moaning as you quickly felt another release edge close.

Minho seemed absolutely determined to get you to come on his cock, his unrelenting pace seemingly unchanging despite the steady swelling of his knot at the base of his length. It kept catching at your entrance with each thrust, giving you a sensation of pleasurable pain quite like nothing you’d ever felt before.

“C’mon, baby… My precious queen in heat, aren’t you gonna come for your alpha again? Milk my cock so I can stuff you full of my pups?”

With a few more thrusts, you felt heat rushing all throughout your body, dragging an incomparable feeling of ecstasy from your centre to every single one of your limbs, just as Minho’s knot lodged deep inside of you and his lips found yours. The kiss was messy, all uncoordinated movements and bumps of noses as his warmth started to fill you up.

The blissed out noises coming out of his mouth had you holding him even tighter, making him hold you tighter in response. You knew Minho produced more fluids than a human male, but you’d never quite felt this amount coming out of him, it seemed like he was coming for at least a couple of minutes, and his kisses eventually became softer, more tender with every second that passed, almost as if that desperation he had when you came into his flat was finally diminishing.

You felt so impossibly full. Full of his cock, full of his cum, full of his love… Once he stopped coming Minho finally separated his lips from yours, slowly opening his eyes to look at your face. He was panting a bit, but the blinding, satisfied smile that made its way to his lips had your heart almost bursting in your chest.

“Holy… Fuck…” He panted, making you giggle a bit just as you tried to catch your breath as well.

“I agree”, was all you said, pressing a lingering kiss on each of his cheeks.

“Hold on…”

Minho made sure his hold on you was secure before he pulled you both away from the door a bit, enough to find your discarded clothes and push them towards the door with his foot. Slowly, and with admittedly a bit of discomfort, he lowered himself to sit on your clothes and rest his back against the door. You whimpered a bit once he fully lowered your ass to sit on your clothes as well, with your legs slightly bent at either side of him, and your knees against the door, the tug of his knot was a bit sharper than when he was moving before, but it seemed to ease as soon as you were finally settled.

“I’m sorry, baby. This is a horrible position to get tied in”, he caressed your lower back, keeping you as flush to him as he could without having his knot pull on your entrance. You just hummed in response, closing your eyes as you inhaled deeply.

You both were silent for a while, just holding onto each other, catching your breaths. Until you finally had regained enough of your strength to speak.

“Minho, that was…”

“A lot–”

“Hot as fuck”, you spoke at the same time, making you both chuckle. “Was that you being violent? ‘Cause… Damn…”

Minho laughed, a breathy laugh just as he leaned his head back against the door, shaking it from side to side in disbelief. “No, fuck. I was violent when you came in. I was close to breaking the bed in half… Then the smell of your scent hit me and I lost my mind”.

“You held back more than I imagined, I’d admit”, you chuckled, pushing his fringe off of his sweaty forehead.

“I don’t even know how I did it, to be honest”, Minho pecked your lips, and you hummed in content. “Now that I’ve finally had you like this… I see it so clearly. I’ve needed you so bad this entire time. Years, kitten! It’s been years of pure torture…”

You gave him an apologetic smile. “I figured as much”.

Minho blinked. “How come?”

“I did some digging”, you shrugged. “And after I just… Connected the dots. But you wouldn’t want to talk about it so I didn’t press you further”.

Minho just scoffed at that. “Alright, smarty pants”.

You squeezed his shoulders in protest. “Hey! Don’t call me smarty pants when I’m stuffed full of your cum while your supernatural cock keeps it all trapped in!”

Minho just laughed at your comment, and you felt your heart flutter in your chest at the sight of his eyes almost disappearing when he smiled.

“Which, by the way, is it always this much? I feel so… Full. Can’t believe it’s all in”.

“Yup”, Minho brought a hand to your cheek, stroking shapes with his thumb. “It’ll diminish eventually, but the first couple of days is a lot. But then again, your cunt was made for me, so of course it can fit it all in”.

You felt heat spread on your face at his words, and suddenly you felt a bit shy under his sparkly eyes. The ache in your legs was lessening a bit, and you realised his knot was starting to deflate, and his seed started to pour out. “Oh, crap. My joggers…”

Minho snorted at that. “Your joggers were ruined the second you stepped into this flat, baby. Don’t worry about them now”.

When your boyfriend’s length finally slipped out of you, he took you in his arms again and carried you to his bedroom, dropping you on his bed for you to rest while he got you some water.

“How many days do your ruts usually last?” You asked Minho once he was back, downing in record time the glass of water he’d handed you.

“Four to five days”, Minho huffed as he dropped himself on his bed next to you. “I’ll warn you now, just based on how I’m feeling right now, I’m confident it’ll be at least five”.

“At least?” Your eyes widened, and Minho chuckled at your expression.

“Didn’t you want to spend my rut with me? Fuck around and find out, babe”.

You scoffed in disbelief, ignoring the urge you suddenly had to rub in his face how you were right, and that you should’ve talked about this earlier. But, instead, you just rolled on top of your boyfriend, planting your lips on his. “Well… Guess I’ll just have to let my alpha take care of me for those five days. Hm?”

Minho licked his lips, and a blush settled on his cheeks. “Don’t worry, kitten. I’ll make sure to take good care of you”. With how deeply he was kissing you, there was just no room for doubt, he certainly was going to take good care of you, and you were absolutely ready for it.

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Minho’s WereRoomies Instalments: Camping With Wolves · Dog Unleashed · Are You There, Wolf?

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