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[saved-fanfiction]

Doctors and Desk Injuries

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Pirate!Reader (Kid Pirates)

Word Count: 1k ~ish

Warnings: none? minor head injury?

Reader is the doctor of the Kid Pirates' and tbh I got a very tiny bit carried away with my medical background srry lol

The medical cabin of the Victoria Punk was unusually quiet. It was one of those rare moments between storms, sea battles, and your crewmates’ tendency to lose fingers and break ribs like it was a competition. The ship rocked gently, creaking with the lull of the ocean as sunlight pooled through the single round window. You were crouched beneath your desk, arm stretched far beneath it, fingers just brushing the cap of the pen that had rolled away.

The annoying pen was your favorite though, with its smooth ink and comfortable grip. You’d scolded Heat earlier for almost walking off with it, and now the pen had decided to vanish into the shadowy depths under your desk as if in revenge.

Just a little further…

The door creaked open. 

You jumped visibly, audibly, and catastrophically slamming your head full-force against the underside of the desk. A yelp tore from your throat as stars danced across your vision.

“Ffuuuhaha ow,” you hissed, clenching your teeth to hold back more colorful language. Your eyes watered slightly as you sit back on your heels, clutching the bump on your head. The pain was sharp, but nothing you couldn’t handle. You were the Kid Pirates’ doctor, after all.

Which made it all the more humiliating when you looked up and locked eyes with him. Standing in the doorway, arms crossed and expression carved from stone, was Trafalgar D. Water Law. Captain of the Heart Pirates. The Surgeon of Death himself.

You froze.

“Captain Trafalgar…” you breathed, wide-eyed. You scramble to stand, and your voice falters slightly. “You-You're the Doctor Trafalgar. Captain of the Heart Pirates.”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. Just gave a curt nod. 

“I was told you had extra supplies that my crew is short on.”

Right. Your crews were temporarily cooperating, something about a mutual threat or shared interest that Kid had begrudgingly agreed to, and the Heart Pirates were aboard for the afternoon to discuss terms. You knew they were visiting. You just didn’t expect him to walk into your medbay.

Straightening with all the dignity you could muster, you quickly adjusted your coat. “Right! Yeah, of course! We’ve got plenty of extra bandages, suture, some different topical coagulants and antiseptic, although I only really use betadine. S-sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

You laughed awkwardly, heat creeping up your neck. It wasn’t just the bump on your head that had your pulse racing now. Law was tall, quiet, and absurdly composed in the way that made you painfully aware of how not composed you were.

“I-It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you added, extending your hand with what you hoped was professional enthusiasm and not the flustered panic of someone who’d just been caught maiming themselves with furniture. “Is it okay if I call you Doctor Trafalgar?”

For a second, Law didn’t move. His unreadable gaze flicked from your outstretched hand to your face. You smiled brightly despite yourself.

And then something subtle shifted.

The edges of his stare softened, just a little. You didn’t catch it, but for Law, the recognition struck quietly, like a memory slipping through a crack in his walls. Your smile, the awkward and honest way you held yourself. There was something achingly familiar in it. Something that tugged at a place in his chest he rarely let himself feel.

Corazon…

“…Fine,” he said at last, reaching out. His hand was warm and dry, fingers calloused from years of precise, brutal work. “Doctor’s fine.”

You shook once firmly, if a bit overzealously.

“I keep most of the surplus in this cabinet,” you said quickly, pulling away and gesturing toward the lower wooden doors to your left. “You’re welcome to take whatever you need. I keep it organized, I swear, even if I’m the only one who respects labels around here.”

You were rambling again.

Law stepped past you, his presence calm and steady. He opened the cabinet doors and knelt down to inspect the items. You noticed the subtle way his eyes scanned the contents, methodical and clinical.

“You catalog your stocks by trauma type?” he asked, sounding mildly impressed.

You blinked. “Uh y-yeah. I color-code based on urgency too.”

“Hm.”

He would place an item on the white counter top above him every so often. He’d picked out a box of 4-0 Monocryl, some Dermabond pens and various-sized Tegaderms. You’d packed everything into a small box while he was rummaging through the cabinet. Law stood again, scanning over the supplies.

“These should do,” he said, accepting the box from you with a nod. “I’ll return whatever we don’t use.”

“No need,” you replied, shaking your head, wincing a bit. “Better you have them and not need them.”

There was a beat of comfortable silence. You risked a glance at him. His face was calm, unreadable as ever, but you didn’t miss the way he lingered a little longer than necessary. Nor how his eyes briefly flicked up to the knot forming on your head.

“…You should ice that,” he said simply.

“Oh, I will, I will! Right after this,” you laughed again, waving a hand dismissively. “First aid for me always ends up being last priority.”

“Shouldn’t be,” he said.

You blinked at his statement. His tone hadn’t changed, but something about it felt honest. Sincere.

“I’ll, um… I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, a little quieter.

He paused at the doorway, turning back just briefly.

“You’re not what I expected from a Kid Pirate,” he said flatly.

You smiled and squinted at him confused. “Uh, is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

A ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips. “I’ll let you know.” 

Then he was gone.

You stared at the now closed door for a solid ten seconds. Then, as if on cue, your pen finally rolled out from under the desk and tapped your shoe. You looked down at it like it had personally betrayed you.

[saved-fanfiction]

Scars and All

Summary: For a few years, you have been friends with Trafalgar Law. And for a few years you have harbored a crush on his dad, Donquixote Rosinante. You tried, and tried, to ignore such feelings, but perhaps it’s time to put it all out into the open. No more hiding, you will tell him how you feel. You only hope he will let you down gently.

Word Count: ~8.9k

Reader: fem/afab (reader referred to a sweetheart/sweet girl)

Warnings: SMUT (age gap (reader is in their mid 20s and Cora is 40), breast play, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, praise kink, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, cream pie, dirty talk, small breeding kink, mostly dom!cora), minor angst (denial of feelings), pining, fluff in the end

(Fanart and inspo for the fic by levikra)

The idle rumbling of the car was the only thing keeping you grounded, or was the irritable sensation propelling your already splintered mind into more of a frenzy? You pressed your forehead into the steering wheel. The sun’s ray heated the faux leather, unfortunately not bringing you any relief or comfort. Just more irritation.

This is stupid.

Grumbling, you lifted your head, peering up at the picturesque house. It was simple with a small porch with rickety chairs to recline in, and a worn down welcome mat. Shutters muted by the sun. Its attached garage had its mouths open revealing a sleek vintage car and a motorcycle parked inside.

Plain. Ordinary.

Yet, it was frighteningly daunting. You white-knuckled your steering wheel. Your heart pounded feverishly in your chest. Blood pumped so loud in your ears you could barely discern the jumbled voices from the radio. A song? An interview? Why did it matter? Why were you focusing on such trivial things when -

Dumb. This is so fucking dumb and stupid and - and I should just leave. He wouldn’t -

You banged your head - again - against the steering wheel, growing out in frustration. “What am I doing here,” you asked the rhetorical question in the lone space.

You tilted your head, glancing at your passenger and the reason for the afflictions to your spiraling mind: a plastic container of an assortment of cookies. The container sparkled in the sunlight as if smiling giddily eager to be delivered.

You grumbled to yourself, “Why did I talk myself into this?”

*****

“Ooo, it smells amazing in here!”

You peered over your shoulder, looking back at your friend and housemate, Evelyn. She hungrily eyed all the variety of cookies littered across the kitchen counters cooling and some already packed neatly in containers. Giggling, she snatched up a fresh one, biting into it.

She hummed, smiling at you, “It’s so good.”

Your cheeks warmed and you smiled bashfully, “Thanks.”

She plopped down at one of the dining chairs, happily nibbling on her cookie. “So why’d you make so much? And why did you ask me to help?”

You snickered at her tone and small pout. “Ah well, I wanted to make some chocolate chip cookies but then you saw we had plenty of other ingredients so it just spiraled out of control from there.”

She frowned a bit, deciphering your roundabout words. “Stress baking?”

Your eyes dropped to the side. Caught. “Yeah, kind of.”

“Why?”

You added some cooled cookies into another container. “Well … I was thinking about bringing some to Rosinante .. and I know Law is still doing his shift at the hospital.”

She beamed, finishing off her cookie. “Yeah, I bet they will like them.”

You said nothing, you just closed the container, sealing it tight.

Evelyn watched you for a moment. Your hand nervously patted on your pants, rubbing off the flour and sugar. Your eyes darted around counting and recounting all the cookies. “What’s wrong? What do you think they won’t like them?” She asked.

“Huh? Oh, uh … no, that’s not the issue.” You shuffled side to side. “I thought that maybe I could finally do it.”

She cocked her head. “Do what?”

You fiddled with your fingers. “That … that I could tell Rosinante how I feel.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Really?”

She had known about your crush on him, you had confided in her some time ago. She had even comforted you when a few tears were shed under the veil of night. It wasn’t right to have a crush on your shared friend’s dad. You knew this. You tried to drop it, to let him go, yet with every conversation you had with him you fell a bit more.

“I … I just … I don’t want to keep pretending,” you quietly admitted. “If he doesn’t like me, then so be it … maybe I could finally move on once I hear it from him … it’ll be awkward as hell when we go over there in the future but … I should do this.”

No more delusions or what ifs. Your mind tired of these endless running thoughts every single night.

Eve gave you a reassuring smile. “I’m proud of you.”

You smiled, a small one. You placed a hand on your chest, rubbing the spot over your racing heart.

I got this.

Taking a deep breath, you picked up a perfectly packaged container. You held the container close to your chest, however once you turned to leave you froze.

Seeing your hesitation, Evelyn got up and started pushing you towards the door. “Alright, go.”

You dug your heels into the floor. “But -“

“Nope, now shoo.”

“Actually I - I changed my mind. This is a terrible idea and I don’t want to do the adult thing anymore -“

“It’s a wonderful idea,” she urged you, opening the front door for you. “And he’ll love them.”

And you, she thought.

“I don’t care if he likes the cookies,” you grumbled. “It’s the other thing.”

“You can do it. I know he likes you back -“

You vehemently shook your head, pushing back on her attempts. “I can’t -“

She spun you around, grabbing your arms. Her eyes blazed with determination, far more than your own. “Yes, you can. You said you would do it, so no backing out.”

You hung your head, sighing deeply, “… fine.”

She beamed. “Great! And don’t worry, I’ll keep Law away … for a few hours.”

Your cheeks burned. “Whoa, it won’t -“

With one final shove, you stumbled backwards out the door. She chirped in a cheery tone, “Now, go. And good luck!”

The door then slammed in your face.

*****

Fuck it, just do it!

Shutting off the engine and snatching up the cookies, you hopped out of your car. Every step towards the front door, every time your heart jumped up into your throat. You wanted to turn tail and hide, but how could you go back home? Eve will certainly give you trouble.

I could just sneak inside and hide away in my room.

You muttered to yourself. It was at least a decent idea.

Wrong. All wrong, a voice hissed in the back of your mind. You’re a friend of his kid, why would he even see you like this? You shouldn’t have even entertained this for a second. It’s all wrong.

Your heart ached. You shoved that voice back, locking it in the far recesses of your mind. You didn’t need it whispering in your ear. Again. You just needed to get this all off your chest, you couldn’t bear the weight of this secret anymore. The rejection will sting, it will gut you, and you will cry, but then hopefully you could finally move on.

With a shaky hand, you pressed the doorbell. The chime cut through the silence. You flinched. Glancing over your shoulder, you wondered if anyone was watching this slow disastrous train wreck.

This is a dumb idea. Maybe I could -

The doorknob clicked then opened. You whipped around, staring up at the owner of the home, the father of your friend, and the owner of your heart: Donquixote Rosinante. With a cigarette hanging from his lips, he smiled warmly, “Hey, what brings you around here?”

Matching his smile, you held up the cookies. “I made a bit too much so I thought I would stop by and bring some.”

His eyes lit up. “Really? Thank you, here -“ he moved aside giving you space to step in, “- come on in, you know where the kitchen is.”

You nodded, walking in. Smiling, Rosinante closed the door behind you. You passed by the living room and into the kitchen with Rosinante following behind you. You set down the cookies on the kitchen island. Rosinante circled around the island to the other side. He took his cigarette, flicking the ashes into a small glass tray. His eyes darted over to you. He saw the question written so clearly on your face.

“I know I’m trying to quit. Just please don’t tell, Law,” he said, taking a small drag. “I know the kid is almost a doctor now, but it’s hard to break such an old habit -“ he winked “- it can be our little secret.”

Your heart fluttered. “My lips are sealed.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Joy, unbridled joy and elation, bloomed at the nickname. It brought a warmth unlike any other: sunshine on a snowy winter morning, bonfire on a cool summer night, or a warm blanket wrapped around at night. You couldn’t remember when it started, but you loved it. His deep voice mixed so lovely with the affectionate tone of the name. It was this small insignificant thing that made your heart cling to hope, hope that maybe - just maybe - he felt something.

“Do you mind?” Rosinante pointed at the container.

“Oh! Uh, no please go ahead,” you answered.

He smiled then opened it up. He inhaled the tantalizing decadent aroma. “Smells great.”

He plucked a chocolate chip cookie. Holding his cigarette between his fingers, he took a bite. He hummed. His eyes twinkled with delight. ”This is amazing! You’re a great baker.”

You smiled bashfully. “Thanks.”

Looking at him, your expression softened as he finished the cookie with a smile. However as he ate the last bite, your eyes caught something. “Hey, uh, you have …,” you gestured to a spot on your own cheek.

Rosinante tilted his head. His golden hair swept across his forehead. His innocent face made him appear decades younger.

How can a grown man look so adorable?

You reiterated, “You have some chocolate on your cheek.”

“Oh!” He swiped his thumb across his skin - to where you pointed - then gently sucked the chocolate off. He hummed, licking his lips. “Thanks.”

You kept your voice steady. “No problem.”

He really doesn’t understand what he does to me.

“Any reason you made so many cookies?” Rosinante asked, closing the lid.

You shrugged. “Just wanted some, but then it kind of spiraled into making a bunch of different batches.”

He smiled, leaning on the island. “Well, thank you for sharing. I might eat them all before Law gets a chance to try one.”

You mimicked him, resting your elbows on the island. “No worries, we have plenty back at the house … that is if Eve doesn’t eat them all.”

He snickered and took another drag of his cigarette.

Your eyes skimmed over him. He truly was a golden god, yet wrapped up with some boyish charms. You tore your eyes away. Your heart started to speed up again with the mere thought of spilling everything out in the open. He picked up the cookies, turning his back to you and putting them next to the fridge. It was out of sight, and somewhat hidden for a sweet treat for himself later.

Ok, fuck, breathe. Just - just say it. It’s now or never.

Clearing your throat, you spoke in a shaky voice. “Rosinante?”

He hummed, his back still to you,

I can do it. It’s fine - it’ll be fine.

You took a long deep breath. “I … I have something I want to tell you.”

He froze.

Instantly, he knew where the conversation would go before you could utter another word. The thing was Rosinante wasn’t clueless or oblivious to your infatuation with him. He will admit he didn’t at first, however it all clicked. He saw how you clung to each of his words, how you stared at him when you thought he wasn't watching, how you leaned towards him craving his warmth, or how you always sought out his company. He was surprised, yes, and in heavy denial for some time. But, as weeks passed, his observation and theory only solidified.

He could only hope your crush would pass.

Rosinante twisted around. “Please don’t.”

Most of all, Rosinante hoped and prayed his own attraction to you faded. It started as a small bud in his chest. Yet, the more and more you came around, the more you talked and laughed with him, the more the simple infatuation grew. It rooted its vines deep within his heart, taking hold and control of him. He craved your presence constantly, you were becoming his new addiction.

But, it wasn’t right.

Rosinante sighed heavily. Taking his cigarette, he smothered it out in the ashtray. “I know what you’re about to say.”

You blinked. “You do?”

Does he?

He glanced up, staring directly into your eyes. Why were his eyes so sorrowful? Or … pitiful? “You we’re about to make a confession, were you not?”

Embarrassment. White hot searing embarrassment coursed through you. Your eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights. You quickly dropped your head, hiding your boiling shame. Your hands balled into fists at your sides, nails burying into your palms.

“Please don’t.”

His haunting words replayed on repeat.

Fuck, I was right. Shit -

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing back the tears.

Rosinante frowned. Fuck. Maybe, he shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe, he should have let you speak first. But, he was trying to save you some pain. He moved around the counter, hovering by your side. His hand raised to comfort you. However, when he heard the faint sniffles, his heart clenched and his hand dropped.

Damn it.

“Look, it’s -“

You snapped your head up. You smiled, an awfully forced one that didn’t convince Rosinante in the slightest. Taking a deep breath, you tried to swim faster than the typhoon of emotions hurtling through your mind. “No, you don’t have to explain yourself. I - I understand … I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

It was a long shot, an impossible chance. Why did a part of me believe it would work? How delusional could I be?

You spun on your heels to leave, but Rosinante caught your wrist. He tugged you back. His hands cupped your face, forcing you to stay and look at him. He searched in your frantic eyes to see if he overstepped. But, all he saw was pain trying to be bottled up. “I do owe you an explanation, it’s only right,” he paused, trying to gather his thoughts, “sweetheart, it’s cliche I know but it’s not you, it’s me … I’m … I’m not right for you.”

Your heart - your conflicted heart - flipped. “… what?”

He sighed, “You are kind and wonderful and amazing -“

And everything I could ever hope for, he thought.

“- but I’m broken. I’m old. I’m scarred. I’m - I’m not whole.”

Unlike you.

His words swirled around in your head. Broken. Old. Scarred. “So?” You asked in a quiet voice.

Rosinante’s eyebrows furrowed.

Pushing down your nerves, you pressed on. “Not everyone is perfect and - and without flaws, do you think I am? Do you think I don’t have some sort of scars whether etched into my skin or across my heart?”

He blinked, taken back by your words.

Just spill it all. He … he already knows.

“Only you make me feel like this,” you whispered, dropping your gaze. “Only you can constantly make me laugh and smile, and - and brighten my day. You make me feel seen, heard.”

Rosinante’s heart hammered. “Can - can you look at me?”

Your eyes wearily inched back up. Your eyes were glassy with tears threatening to spill.

He smiled sadly, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone. “Hey, don’t waste your tears on this old fool.”

“Why not?” You muttered, desperately keeping your voice calm. “You’re amazing … why can’t you see that?”

Because I have a complicated past, he bitterly thought. I’m old, past my prime. You deserve better.

“Sweetheart -“

“Please,” you cut him off. “If - if you don’t like me, want me, or - or see me in this way then just please let me go. Don’t make me stay here any longer … but if you do … if you like me in some way … then …”

Your voice trailed off, leaving it up to him to interpret. An admission of his feelings? A kiss? It just had to be some obvious sign. You were trying not to crumble before him.

Please, just let me go.

Rosinante licked his lips. His heart raced sporadically in his chest. What should he do? What was the right thing to do?

To let you go.

To save you - one of his son’s friends - from this broken old man.

But what did he want? What did his heart yearn for?

You. He wanted you, he always wanted you. And maybe this was his only chance at happiness.

Why shouldn’t he at least try?

He leaned down slowly as if waiting for you to run, for you to get out while you could. But, you stayed firm. His face hovered inches above yours. His eyes bore into you searching and deciphering any signs, or tells, that meant regret. He couldn’t. He only saw hope, hope that this wasn’t a fantasy, hope that you could finally love and cherish him as you believed he deserved.

His eyes slid down to your lips, so soft and waiting so patiently. He swallowed a nervous lump in his throat. His eyes flickered back, locking with yours. “I want this, but tell me,” he whispered desperately; his hand now wrapped around the back of your neck holding you firmly, realizing he didn’t want you to run away now, “tell me you want this. I - I just need to hear you say it.”

You hesitantly reached up, touching the side of his face. His chin was slightly prickly unlike his usual kempt appearance. Your hand traced upwards, threading through his blonde locks - that nearly covered those beautiful rustic red eyes of his. “I want this,” you breathed out. “I want you, scars and all.”

Rosinante crashed his lips against yours. He claimed your lips, pouring all this untapped love into it. He wanted - needed - you to know how much you meant to him, how much he wanted this, and how long he had deprived himself of it. His lips parted, darting his tongue along your lips pleading for entrance. You shakily parted your lips, still surprised this was truly happening. Rosinante hummed, slipping his tongue inside. You whimpered faintly. With your head tipped all the way back to accommodate his height, you were truly at his mercy.

And you loved it.

He eagerly explored your mouth, swirling his tongue wanting to taste every part of you. You clung to him, feeling your knees about to buckle. Chocolate and hints of nicotine blossomed over your tongue. His tongue commanded your attention, yet so did his hands. His dexterous hands glided down your body. He awkwardly hunched forward, but he didn’t mind. He had you, he could hold you, touch you. His hands greedily roamed over you, mapping out the curves and lines of your body. He sneakily cupped your rear and thighs, making you gasp. Rosinante smirked against your lips. A quick squeeze and jerk urged you to jump.

And you did.

The ex-marine lifted you up quite easily. Your legs wrapped so wonderfully around his waist, and you threw your arms over his shoulders. However, he couldn’t make it quite far. Taking only a few steps, he stumbled into the wall. You were far too distracted by his lips and touch, you hadn’t noticed his quick reaction: one of his hands cradled your head, protecting it from the wall.

He pulled away from your lips, mumbling, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you panted.

He smiled, wide and beautiful, making his eyes crinkled in an adorable way. He was enthralled with you, and this moment. How could you truly be here in his arms, in his grasp? It was a dream, a dream he didn’t want to ever end. “Can we keep going?” He asked, nudging his nose against yours.

“Please,” you answered.

He captured your lips again, but slower. He wanted to memorize the shape and feeling of your lips. There was precision to his movements, a dance. The ex-marine knew how to maintain control, and how to draw everything out. Each stolen breath, each push and pull of his lips, each slow drag of his tongue, each teasing nibble left you clinging to him.

One of his hands slipped under your shirt, skimming up your back. You shivered at his cool calloused fingers. He murmured, “Soft.”

His fingertips drew nonsensical patterns, or so you thought. He purposefully drew hearts and spirals, carving his unspoken love. His hand moved upward before dragging his blunt nails across your back. He so desperately wished to mark your skin, to put his scar on you.

“Can I take off your shirt?” He begged into your swollen lips.

You didn’t answer. Using the wall as leverage, you haphazardly wiggled out of your shirt and tossed it randomly onto the kitchen floor. Excited and dazed, you didn’t bother to wait for him to ask about your bra. You unhooked it, adding it to the pile. His eyes widened, staring down at your breasts with his slightly mouth agape.

Fuck, this is really happening, he thought.

You nervously bit your lip. Your mind began to second guess his silence.

Shit, did I go too far? What if he didn’t -

Rosinante quickly hoisted you higher up then craned his head down. His lips wrapped perfectly around your breast, sucking on it. You sighed, arching your back to better help him. Your fingers slipped into his hair, holding his head close. Heat pooled in the pit of your stomach. His tongue circled around your nipple. Your lips and mouth had just learned his sensual dance. Every swipe of his tongue, your body shuddered. He teasingly nipped at the bud, making you gasp. He removed his mouth with an audible ‘pop‘ like he wanted you to know how good you tasted, how much it pained him to break away. Yet, he couldn’t neglect the other. He kissed along your chest, hungrily capturing your other breast.

“Rosi,” you breathed out.

Fuck, he loves how that sounded. How could his name send such intense pleasure skyrocketing through his body? His cock jumped in his pants. Gods, he needed to hear it again, and again, and again. His hands squeezed your ass both trying to hold himself back and as if you forced it out of you.

And it worked.

You whimpered.

Faint, yet so sweet.

Pulling away from your breasts, he rested his forehead against yours. Your chests heaved in an odd symphony. The thinnest space separated your lips, your shared breaths mixed together. His air was yours and your air was his, souls were mingling in such close proximity. His eyes shone, all his emotions now officially and completely bare.

No, more hiding. No more denying.

He stole your lips once again, unable to get enough of them. Humming, you arched your back, pressing your now spit covered breasts into him. The tiny bit of friction of your perked nipples across his rough shirt sent sparks of pleasure down your spine. However, and unfortunately, he broke the kiss far too quickly. You eagerly chased after his lips, needing them. Rosinante hid his amused smile. He kissed down your neck, swiping that devious tongue of his over your sensitive skin. He whispered, “You taste like sugar.”

“I - ah - I may have made a mess earlier,” you admitted. “Butter and sugar got everywhere.”

He chuckled. He wanted to say he expected no less from his sweetheart. Sweetness seemed to always pour from you, and he always wanted to drink from you - to always have a taste. For a fleeting moment, he contemplated taking you here. He could lay you across the kitchen island, pour honey across your skin, especially your breasts, and have his way with you. But, he shelved such an idea.

Not today, another time, he promised himself.

“Upstairs?” He asked into your neck.

“Up - fuck.” Rosi nipped at your skin, gently sucking and soothing the spot. His lips curled into a smirk, a smirk you felt burned into your skin. Your head tipped back into the wall as he continued his sweet assault. How could such a kind, sweet man be so conniving, so sly?

“What was that, sweetheart?” He teased in a low tone.

“Upstairs.” You breathlessly added, “Please.”

“Of course.” He pushed off the wall, delicately carrying you up the stairs.

However, since he was so focused on carrying you, you decided to return such delightful favors. You started by peppering his face in adoring kisses from his cheeks, to his nose, then his lips.

He chuckled with a growing smile, “Sweet girl, you need to stop or I might trip.”

“We’ll be fine,” you brushed him off.

Your lips trailed soft butterfly kisses along his prickly jaw and down his neck. Your sweetness turned sinister. You placed a single open mouth kiss on the crook of his neck. He let out a soft pleased sigh. Your teeth then grazed over his skin. His grip on you tightened. You lightly bit him, feeling a shudder run through his body. Smirking, you sucked - viciously and without remorse - on a sensitive spot ensuring you left your mark on him.

His reaction was perfect. He groaned and stumbled backwards into the wall by his bedroom door. The thud resonated through the still home, so much so a few pictures wobbled on the wall threatening to fall. “Shit,” he hissed.

You continued your attack listening to his heated swears under his breath. Once you felt satisfied, you pulled away, eyeing your red spot with a triumphant grin. It will only darken with time, a lovely reminder. Looking into his eyes, they were blown wide with lust and desire which mirrored your own. Smirking, you teasingly nipped his bottom lip. He swore again. Using one hand, he brought your head closer, attacking your lips with new energy. He pried himself off the wall and rushed into his bedroom. He used his muscle memory stumbling and swaying into the room until his shins hit the edge of his bed. Carefully, he laid you down on his sheets.

So gentle, so delicate.

His lips skimmed down to your heaving chest, between your breasts and to your hips. His fingers followed after his lips, tracing down your sides. Your breath stuttered at his feathery touches. His breath fanned over your lower stomach, hitting the waistband of your pants. His eyes flickered up, peering through his eyelashes.

“Can I?” He whispered in such a loving tone.

You nodded, unable to muster up a single syllable.

He undid the buttons of your pants and tugged them down while you lifted your hips to help. He bit the inside of his cheek. So beautiful. His hands traveled up your legs, squishing your thighs. She’s really here. He then spread your legs a bit, and didn’t miss the dark wet patch on your underwear. His chest burned with desire knowing he was responsible. His finger hooked around the band of your underwear. If he could, he would have torn them off already.

“Can these go next,” he asked, continuing to ensure he had your consent with every step.

Your heart skipped. “Y-yeah.”

He pulled them off as calmly as possible, and tossed them aside. Your cunt was dripping. He swore his mouth started to water. Swallowing, he silently drank in your figure, still reeling you were here. He wanted to ravish you, he wanted to make love to you, he wanted to do it all.

However, for you, the silence pressed on for too long. His blank stare morphed into disinterest in your mind. Insecurities bubbled up as it dawned on you how you were now completely naked before him. Your hands covered your chest and you snapped your legs closed.

What am I -

Rosinante’s eyes widened at your sudden change. He immediately climbed onto the bed, over top of you, and removed your hands from your chest. “Please, don’t,” he breathed out. “I - I’m sorry … you’re just so beautiful.”

Your cheeks and chest flooded with heat. You quickly turned your head to the side, hiding.

He cupped your cheek, turning your head back to him. “You are. Please don’t hide from me.”

His soft expression and kind smile eased back the fears. You slowly nodded.

“Good. Here, it’s only fair.” He leaned back and removed his shirt, adding it to the pile on his floor.

Your breath hitched. Your eyes darted all over, taking him all in. So many scars. You propped yourself up on your elbow, reaching out. You carefully traced over each of them, outlining the rigids and harsh ragged shapes. Rosi watched you intensely. A shiver ran down his spine. You were so delicate, as if he were made of glass. Your face filled with some kind of concentration, one he didn’t fully understand.

You asked softly, “Can … can you flip over?”

Stunned a bit, yet Rosi complied. He rolled onto his back into the squeaky mattress. You swiftly straddled his hips. Before he could ask, you bent down kissing one scar by his ribs. His heart leapt up into his throat. You then methodically kissed every single scar - no matter the size nor how gnarly it appeared - all over his chest. You finished your endeavor by kissing the one near his heart, an almost fatal hit. His heart thrummed beneath your lips, and you felt the elated vibrations. You peered up to see his cheeks flushed a rosy red and his lips parted as he tried to calm his breathing. You had rendered this man - this near mammoth of a man - into an utter mess. He was putty under such touches, touches he had long deprived himself of.

You smiled, resting your cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, a beat which your heart harmonized with. “I’m sorry, did I -“

“Don’t.” He let out a shaky exhale. “Don’t apologize. I - I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Your hand followed the curve of his chest to a scar on his right shoulder. You, once again, traced the shape. Rosi shuddered. At his reaction, a thought suddenly dawned on you. “Rosi, are your scars sensitive?”

He rubbed a hand over his face, mumbling, “Just a bit.”

Noted.

You held back a devious smirk. Sitting up, you placed your hands on his chest. Your nails raked down.

Maybe I could have some fun -

Rosi’s hands suddenly gripped your hips. He yanked you all the way up his body. A sharp gasp left your lips. Your hands flung out and collided with the wall for support. Your eyes - wide and somewhat confused - dropped down. You now straddled over his face, your knees on either side. His hands wrapped around your thighs and squeezed, letting the fat pool between his fingers. Most importantly, his grip indicated one thing: he was unwilling to let you go.

“Fuck.” He groaned, looking up at your dripping cunt like it was a meal.

Your heart sped up, “Wait, Rosi - I -“

“Sweetheart, I dreamt of this so many times,” he whispered. His breath, each puff of air, sent jolts through your body. “Please, can I have this?”

No one had begged before.

Trying and failing to keep your voice steady, you stuttered out, “I, uh, y-yes - ah!”

Rosinante eagerly yanked you down, unable to wait another second. Humming, his lips wrapped around you. The tip of his tongue swept over your folds, collecting and tasting you. Sparks burst through you.

“Rosinante,” you moaned. How could one single motion left you so vocal?

He smirked at your reaction as he weaved a spell over you. He moaned as he started devouring you. His tongue teasingly traced your folds. You shuddered. He did it once, twice, then pushed his tongue inside of you. He curled his tongue, hitting your spongy walls. You whimpered. Your hands balled up into fists, clawing at the wall. His tongue - long and thick - moved with precision. His age and experience truly showed in his moment. He knew how to work it, how to render you in his beautiful mess.

He hummed. The wondrous vibrations made you moan loudly and unabashedly. A noise you never expected you to make. One of your hands instinctively shot down and latched onto his hair. Mindless on your growing pleasure, you tugged on his strands, making him groan. More vibrations, more dizzying sensations, more of your juices coated his lips and face.

Rosinante nearly rolled his eyes back. Fuck, this was better than his measly dreams. His cock twitched in his pants at each of your sounds. And gods if you tasted and felt this amazing just around his tongue, then how would it feel to be buried inside of you? Precum spilled in his pants at the mere thought.

Pleasure built deep in your stomach. As his tongue expertly moved and curled in and out of you, you lowered yourself more and greedily rocked your hips to chase after the pleasure. He moaned. His fingers dug harshly into your thighs, possibly leaving bruises.

“That’s it, sweetheart, ride my face,” he purred.

Shit.

Rosinante’s eyes darkened. Your walls fluttered around his tongue at his blunt words. He watched your head tip back as a sweet whimper hummed in the back of your throat.

“Dirty girl,” he murmured with a devious smirk.

His words added to the insatiable heat burning you from the inside out. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the pornogrpahic moans daring to escape. He continued to watch, unwilling to tear his gaze away. He loved how your breasts bounced, tempting him to feast on him again, how your back curled so elegantly, how your thighs slowly squeezed around him minimizing his world so it was you and you alone, and how your hips stuttered losing concentration at his words, his pet names, and his merciless tongue.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” his voice was low and commanding, drawing up such a tone from his former marine days.

You shakily glanced down at him. Your eyes drooped with lust and desperation, your chest heaved gulping down air, and your mouth hung open as whimpers and moans poured out. To him, you were picture perfect, a sight to behold and cherish.

He turned his head, kissing your thigh. “Good, now can you lean forward for me?”

With a tiny nod, you tipped your hips forward.

”That’s it, good girl.”

Your whole body pulsed. Such praise, such simple words shouldn’t set your body ablaze, and yet you nearly crumble. You already wanted to hear that honey tone pour from his lips again.

His lips wrapped around your swollen clit, sucking on it. You inhaled sharply. His hand then caressed down between your thighs. It trailed down with such a light tough until one of his slender fingers dragged slowly through your soaked lips. You lurched at the feeling. He gingerly pushed his finger in. You shut your eyes tight and bit your lip, almost drawing blood. His finger moved painstakingly slow, both wanting to be careful yet also wanting to tease you closer to that edge.

“More,” you begged, already pushing your hips back. “Please.”

Rosinante happily and easily added a second finger. The wet sounds echoed in the room from him hungrily sucking and licking at your clit, to his fingers being drenched in your juices. It was all too much. You pressed your forehead into the wall, closing your eyes. It held all of your support. You were panting, nearly drooling as pleasure claimed your whole body.

Fuck, Rosinante could come at the sight of you like a horny teenager. His cock ached to be free, to be buried within your walls, to be stroked by your delicate fingers, to be wrapped around your tongue, or perhaps to be smushed between your breasts. He wanted it all. But, he also wanted this. He needed this just as much as you did. His pleasure can wait, he wanted to devote all his energy onto you. He hummed again.

Another moan fell off your lips.

Cracking open your eyes, you were greeted with Rosinante’s red glowing eyes beneath you. He then kissed your clit, softly as if giving one a kiss on the cheek, and cooed, “Be a good girl and come all over my face.”

“Fuck,” you swore. He chuckled, a rich laugh. He crooked his finger, hitting a certain spot. You gasped, seeing stars. “T-There, fuck, right there.”

Rosi immediately zoned onto that spot. His fingers bullied into you with new purpose. Each curl, scissoring, of his fingers snatched your breath away. His tongue and mouth, however, could not be forgotten either. He sucked and swirled his tongue, guiding you closer to the edge. You tightened your grip on his hair, nails scraping along his scalp. And he could only moan. Pleasure and pain tangled so well together.

You mewled, “Rosi, I - I about to come.”

“Give it to me,” he growled.

The pressure built and built, and you quickly abandoned all caution and care. You began to grind back on his fingers, practically humping his face. A fog was casted over your mind, only able to think of your pleasure. Rosinante moaned, fueling your end.

Yes, use me, he thought.

A few more pumps of his slender fingers, mixed with his constant attack on your clit, you cried out his name gushing all over his face. The edges of your vision blurred with stars. Rosinante swiftly pulled out his fingers and greedily drank you up. He groaned, enjoying every drop. He feasted until your legs were shaking, ready to topple over and you were whimpering and jerking from the intense overstimulation.

He thankfully - and finally - stopped. He lifted you up and off his face, laying you down on the bed. He then littered your heavy tired body with kisses as you came back to your senses. He kissed your cheek then forehead. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, tossing him a lopsided smile. “I’m good.”

Great. Fantastic. Amazing.

He smiled, giving you a short kiss. He continued his conquest kissing down your neck and chest. You sighed dreamily, threading your fingers through his hair. Your desires, however, were being reignited by every kiss. You still craved more, you wanted him all.

“I want you,” you whispered softly.

He lifted his head with some hesitancy behind his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You hadn’t been more sure in your life.

“Ok,” he smiled, giving you a quick peck on your lips.

Standing up, you finally could drink in the full sight of him. The years had been so kind to him. He was like a Greek god: golden hair kissed by Apollo and Helios, a rugged physique that battled Ares’s, a booming laughter rivaling Zeus’s own thunder, a voice so rich and luscious like ambrosia poured directly from Dionysus’s cup, and all of it wrapped together and blessed by Aphrodite’s touch.

He was beautiful, more than beautiful he was ethereal.

He tugged down his pants, along with his boxers. Your eyes trailed down to chest, to his stomach, to the thin patch of darker blonde strands to his hard cock - long and thick, matching his already intimidating height. His tip red and swollen as precum leaked out, a sign of your effect on him.

You swallowed nervously.

Would he fit?

Rosinante’s ego inflated at your stunned reaction. He kicked aside the clothing, unfortunately his clumsy curse returned momentarily. Getting tripped up, he toppled sideways, crashing to the ground. You immediately sprung up. Before you could think to ask if he was okay, he propped himself up. His cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment. He huffed, resting his chin on the edge of the bed.

Smooth, he sarcastically thought to himself.

You bit your lip then bursted out into laughter. You know you shouldn’t, yet you shouldn’t have expected anything less. He perked up, and smiled at your infectious laugh. You crawled over to him, sitting back on your knees. You cupped his face, bending down kissing him softly. Pulling away, Rosinante looked at you as if you brought upon his salvation, as if you were an oasis in the desert of his life.

“Are you okay?” You asked, still concerned about him.

“Yeah,” he smiled.

“Good.”

Still holding his face, you gently drew him with you, urging him back on the bed. He listened to your silent command. You fell backward, scooting up the bed while he slowly crawled over top of you.

“Are you sure?” He repeated.

You threw your arms over his shoulders, bringing him down. “Yes, I want you. Like I said, scars and all.”

His heart melted. He kissed your nose. His hand slid down your side, sending ripples of anticipation. He guided your leg over his hip. He gave your thigh a quick reassuring squeeze. He will happily take the lead in this dance, he will ensure you are cared for. There will be no misstep.

He lowered his hips, brushing the tip of his cock over your dripping folds. You shivered at the size and warmth of him. He teasingly rubbed through your folds and over your clit, enjoying how his precum mixed with your first orgasm. Your nails sunk into his skin. Crescent shapes adorned his body with more marks to come.

“We’ll take it slow, ok?” He whispered.

“Ok,” you mumbled, beginning to lose yourself all over again.

He reached down grabbing the base of his cock, and slowly pushed the head of it in. You bit the inside of your cheek. It stung. The stretch was unlike anything you had experienced or felt.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he spoke, reading your expression and feeling the tenseness of your body.

You panted, ”Keep going.”

You wanted this.

Listening, he pushed in further. A sharp hiss left your lips. You clawed at his back, red ribbons added to the jagged pale scars. Rosinante almost stopped, fearfully he was hurting you too much.

“Don’t stop,” you begged. The sting had begun to subside as pleasure whisked you away.

Rosinante again listened to you. He may lead this dance but he had a partner he must be attentive too. You whimpered, shutting your eyes and adjusting to his size. Your heel dug into the meat of his calf, pleading him to keep going. With one final push, Rosinante was completely in filling you to the brim. He panted heavily over top of you. He watched as your face contorted from minor pain to absolute pleasure. Opening your eyes, you were met with pure unfiltered love, a culmination of months upon months of locked feelings, of denial and heartache.

It was finally all unburden, and unchained.

Breathless, you both stared at each other unmoving. Neither of you could. You both desperately wanted to stay here, to preserve such a memory and feelings. He filled you, your senses utterly overwhelmed by the sensation of him. And your body welcomed him in return.

It was as if you were made for each other.

Rosinante hid his face in your shoulder, exhaling shakily. Shit, I feel like I could come right now.

“I’m going to move now,” he grunted into your neck.

“Please.”

Taking a deep breath, he slowly moved his hips. His thick cock dragged through your walls before thrusting back in.

You whimpered.

“I got you,” he whispered. “If anything hurts, tell me.”

“Just - just please don’t stop.”

He let out a breathy chuckle. His hips increased in speed, spurring stars to burst in the corners of your eyes. Your mouth hung open as a silent moan spilled out. His cock stretched and filled you leaving nothing but pleasure in its wake. You wrapped your other legs around his hip, clinging to him. You were immediately becoming drunk and desperate on such pleasures. And Rosinante wanted to give you everything, to have you consumed by pleasure. He curled over you, pressing his forehead against yours. Lifting your hips, he hit a new angle, deeper and far more intimate.

“F-Fuck, Rosi,” you moaned. You clawed harshly at his back. An apology sat on your tongue, but every thrust left you mewling. You could only babble his name or curses.

Rosinante glanced down, seeing your stomach bulge at the size of his cock. “S-Shit, sweetheart,” he moaned. “You’re taking me so well. Look.”

You peered down. The debauchery sight left you speechless. His hips slapped deliciously against yours. Your stomach bulged every time his cock disappeared back in. And when he pulled out, you saw how his cock was slick and coated with your mixed juices. Not to mention at this new angle, the tuft of his snail trail rubbed wondrously against your clit only furthering your pleasures.

Fuck.

Whimpering, your head fell back into the bed. You bucked your hips, matching his thrusts. Rosinante whimpered, almost unnoticeable. “Fuck, just like that.”

He grabbed your hands, prying them off his back and pinning them to the bed. His fingers interlocked with yours, and squeezed your hands. He captured your lips, kissing you sweetly and pouring all of his love into it. His mouth, his hands, were passionate, and yet his hips were so sinful. The trio constantly stole your breath, leaving you in such a messy state.

Breaking the kiss, he smiled down at you. Still boyish, despite the years on him. Hearts danced in his eyes, and you knew you were the same. Every movement, every thrust, every shared breath, every touch - no matter how minuscule - was written with love.

And he was beginning to love watching you squirm on his cock.

He bent his head, taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Your eyes rolled back. The stretch of his cock, the grinding on your clit, the swirl of his tongue on your breast, each sensation brought you closer and closer to the edge. Each delicious friction melted your mind, and your body could only react. Your own well-timed thrusts started to waver as desperation sunk into your bones.

You whined faintly, “Rosi, so close.”

He popped off your breast. “I know, sweetheart, come on. Come around my cock.”

You shivered, lolling your head to the side.

“Be my good girl,” he purred into your ear, rolling his hips. “Come on, sweet girl, come on my cock.”

Your walls fluttered around him, warning him. He gritted his teeth, holding back his own pleasure. He needed to feel you come first. He snapped his hips with new fever, hitting the perfect spot. You gasped loudly. Blinding pleasure covered your senses. Rosinante saw your beautiful reaction and continued to hit the same spot over and over. His pace was unwavering, he needed to see and feel you come.

“Make a mess on me,” he moaned.

You tightened your grip on his hands, digging your nails into him. You squirmed and writhed on his cock. You whimpered as your orgasm approached quickly. Rosinante groaned in your ear, whispering such sinful things. You bucked your hips up just as he snapped his hips, and it all came crashing down.

Shutting your eyes tight, you walls clamped down as you cried out his name. He kissed you, swallowing up your moans and cries. He then kissed your cheek where a tear glided down, to your forehead, and finally nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. “I got you, sweetheart.”

His hips continued to pump into you, letting you ride out your orgasm. It was a beautiful sight. Your body convulsed as pleasure consumed you and as each additional pump stole your breath. Your eyes fluttered open to see your god still hovering above you, giving you everything.

But, it was his turn now.

“Fill me,” you muttered weakly drunk on pleasure.

“W-What?” Rosinante’s eyes widened and his hips stuttered at your words.

Freeing your hands, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You dragged him down pecking his lips. “I want to feel you, Rosi,” you whispered.

His cock twitched inside of you.

“Please,” you begged softly. You arched your back, trying to take him deeper. Your hands glided down his back, pressing into his chest. Your hands roamed touching his scars, the ones you had memorized only moments ago. Your thumb grazed over his nipple, making him hiss. You nibbled on his ear, “Fill me, Rosi.”

His jaw clenched. He kissed you heatedly, pushing his tongue inside to re-explore your mouth. His large hands grabbed your hips, most likely bruising them in the process. But, you didn’t mind. He guided your hips, matching his new pace with more vigor and unrestraint. You moaned, drawing your nails down his chest.

A mere taste of this side of him was addicting. He could be loving, but he could be a monster. A monster you wished to learn in full some day.

Abandoning all his resolve, he pumped wildly into you. He couldn’t help it. Your words let a fire inside of him, and he had been holding back for so long. He muttered out an apology, afraid he might be hurting you. Yet, you took it all. You smiled up at him as he used you.

“Please, Rosi, I want to feel you,” you moaned.

He shuddered. Fuck, how could someone so sweet be so sinful? With a few more deep thrusts, he came, moaning out your name. He slowed down his pace until he buried himself deep within you, coating your walls.

Just like you asked.

Taking a second, you both stared at each other sweaty and out of breath. Rosinante carefully removed himself, and you squirmed at the abrupt emptiness. He rolled off of you, flopping onto the bed. But, he snatched you up, bringing you with him. You yelped, surprised by it. He settled you onto his chest, and your shock vanished. Sigh deeply, you nuzzled into his chest savoring this moment. A lazy smile tugged at the corners of your lips, listening to how his heartbeat slowly evened out. His fingers soon skimmed up and down along your spine.

It was peaceful, it was heavenly.

You each shared one thought: mine. Each of you unbeknownst to the other swore the same vow, to always make sure the other smiled and is to be loved for eternity. Perhaps, later down the road, such vows will be spoken aloud. But for now, you kept these secret promises to both of your chests.

Unfortunately, serenity was short lived for you. A thought, a more drastic one, occurred to you. Lifting your head, you nervously said, “Rosi? I - I think there’s still one thing we should at least talk about.”

He hummed, peering down at you.

“… like how are we going to tell the others? Especially Law?”

Rosinante flinched. He sighed heavily. His arms wrapped around you, firmly drawing your head back down. “We can worry about that later, I just want to stay right here a bit longer.”

You smiled, cheeks warm. You buried your head back into his chest whispering, “Ok.”

Your eyes spotted a scar near your face, specifically the one by his heart. You began to trace over it, memorized by the feeling and knowing you alone could do this.

“I like them,” you admitted quietly.

His heart skipped. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “It means you survived and you’re here.”

With me.

He gave you a gentle squeeze. His lips brushed over your hair, kissing the top of your head. “And I promise I won’t go anywhere.”

Closing your eyes, you smiled and kissed his scar. “Good.”

*****

“Law, please!”

Law huffed as Evelyn tugged on the back of his shirt. She had called him after his shift, asking him to come over. He wanted to go home, and into his bed, but she kept insisting. He agreed, however, as time dragged on doing little to nothing at her home, he decided to leave.

And for some reason, she decided to join him.

She begged the whole time to turn the car around, to go somewhere else, but he kept on driving home. He didn’t care, she could catch a ride back to her own home. Once parked, Law hopped out of his car, marching up the driveway with her bizarrely pleading.

“Look, I’m tired and …,” he paused, spotting a familiar car. One he didn’t see at her home, but oddly was parked here. “Why is she here?”

Eve flinched.

Law peered over his shoulder, staring down at her. But, she avoided his piercing gaze. He glared at her obvious guilty expression. She knew something. “What do you know?”

She blurted out, “Nothing!”

He tsked, “Lair.”

Law shook off her grasp then opened the front door. Stepping in, Eve quickly darted around trying to push on his chest but to no avail. Law walked further into the home. He didn’t see anyone, and nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Where …,” his voice trailed off when he stepped into the kitchen. His eyes instantly spotted something on the floor: a shirt and bra.

Eve whipped her head around. Her eyes widened at the pair of clothing, both shocked and happy for you.

Law’s face, however, scrunched up in disgust at the thought of what his dad had been doing. He huffed, clicking his tongue, “Idiots better not have done anything in the kitchen.”

Scanning the floor, he luckily couldn’t find any pants which brought some relief. Sighing, he spun around, heading back towards the front door.

Eve blinked, “Wait, you’re leaving?”

“Do you want to stay and find them?” He asked, raising his eyebrow.

She blushed, “Um, no … not really.”

“Figured, now let’s go.” He glanced back at her. “You can buy me dinner.”

She gasped, “I will not.”

“I’m driving, so either you stay here and find them or you pay.”

She pouted and grumbled, following after him. However, Evelyn sent you a kind thought as she left.

I’m happy for you.

[saved-fanfiction]

Not sure if this is allowed but, ★★Reader being railed by Purple Haze because Fugo is sexually repressed, but reader doesn't know Fugos feelings OwO

Oh its allowed.

And encouraged. Send me all your stand fucking asks, I’m literally asking you nicely please send stand thirst thank you.

Warnings for: NSFW, rough sex, slight dub con??? Bc reader doesn’t know if Fugo wants it (but he does.)

Keep reading

[saved-fanfiction]

Meet Me Halfway

Summary : Bucky has to recruit the love of his life to save New York from the void. He doesn't know if she wants to ever see him again, though.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Thunderbolts* spoilers below the cut!!!!!!! Exes to friends to lovers. Fluff,  angst, reader is a tracker with enhanced senses. Cursing, Trauma. Implied sex. Alcohol consumption. Death(Please let me know if I miss anything!!!)

Requested by : anon 

Word count : 15k whoops

Note : This story touches on the events of Civil War, IW, Endgame, FATWS, BP Wakanda Forever, and Thunderbolts*! I used google translate for the Xhosa, so please let me know if it needs to be corrected. If you’d like to be on the taglist, message me! It gets lost in the comments sometimes. Enjoy!

You were a tracker.

Your body was a weapon, biologically improved by enhanced senses. You could smell a carcass from ten miles away. You could hear a pin drop on the other side of town. Your eyes could track body heat through a crowd of thousands— and it meant you were a hunter in a world full of invisible prey. Some people hunted with tools. You were the tool. 

So, of course Steve Rogers found you when he needed to find a ghost. Steve found you when the world turned on James Buchanan Barnes. 

After the UN bombing in Vienna, when Bucky was framed and every intelligence agency on Earth wanted him in chains or dead, Steve came to you— he heard of you through old SHIELD files— with desperation and a duffel bag full of cash. 

“I need you to find him,” he said. “Before they do.”

You didn’t even hesitate before taking the job. Because even then, before you met Bucky you believed Steve. And more than that, you believed in redemption.

You tracked Bucky down with your senses—following the scent of gunpowder and cold metal, the subtle trail of heat left in his wake, the ragged sound of breath through the cities of Bucharest. 

You found him before the world did and pointed Steve and Sam in the right direction.

— 

By the time the Avengers disbanded, you were a fugitive—hunted by that least half of the world’s government. Helping Steve Rogers had branded you a traitor in their eyes, but you didn’t regret it. Not then. Not now.

When T’Challa offered sanctuary to Bucky, he extended the same offer to you. Wakanda didn’t just take you in; it gave you purpose. In exchange for refuge, you worked for the royal family— tracking those who dared to steal vibranium from the borders and ensuring justice found them before they slipped through the cracks.

Your home was a modest apartment tucked into the east wing of the palace. It was secluded, perfect for someone like you.

—

When Bucky finally woke from the ice and the trigger words were gone, he didn’t know who to trust. The world had changed too much. He had changed too much.

He trusted Queen Ramonda, who always made sure there was room for both of you at the palace table. He trusted Shuri and the Dora Milaje, because they helped him heal his mind. He trusted both you and T’challa, simply because… Steve trusted you. 

He didn’t expect to fall for you, though.

—

At first, Bucky barely spoke. He moved like a shadow through the palace when he even left his little hut at all. 

He was healing, but not whole. Not yet. The arm was gone—torn from him in Siberia, left behind with the rest of Hydra’s wreckage. 

Bucky hadn’t gotten his new arm yet. Shuri insisted they take their time, that his body and mind needed rest before they complicated him with upgrades. It was the right call. But it left him vulnerable in ways he hated. 

For a man who’d lost so much already, it felt like one more cruel subtraction. You noticed how he avoided using his left side. How he winced at imbalance. How he hated needing help.

You didn’t pity him. You just made space for him to breathe. You shared meals together in the palace garden, never pushing for a conversation he wasn’t ready for.

Sometimes, you’d sit and sharpen your blades while he watched the sky. Other days, you’d bring him small things—a worn paperback with dog-eared pages, a piece of fruit from an outreach mission, or a knife he could train with using only one hand.

“You're not trying to fix me,” he said once, more surprised than grateful.

You shrugged. “You’re not broken.”

You started getting really close because of jars. Peanut butter, mostly. Occasionally pickles. Once, a stubborn jar of papaya jam.

You noticed how he hesitated at cabinets, how he didn’t ask for help even when he clearly needed it— especially because he didn’t know how to use just one hand. 

If he needed a jar opened, you’d walk by, say nothing, and twist the lid off. Then you’d leave it on the counter and move on. No questions. No pity. 

Over time, it turned into more than jars.

He started joining you on your patrols—not in an official capacity, just to walk, perhaps to feel the beauty of the world again without being chased. You’d track down potential threats to Wakandan borders—smugglers, black market mercs—and Bucky would wait for you to get back before having his meal. 

He eventually told you about Bucharest in fragments. About Hydra in pieces. In return, you told him about the experiment. Not all of it—just enough for him to understand that you, too, had been shaped into something you didn’t ask to be.

Days passed like water through your fingers.

You trained with him in the early mornings — barefoot in the dirt, palms open, bodies moving like you were learning each other through motion. You’d fight, laugh, fall, rise again.

At night, you sat together under the stars, sharing stories in fragments — half-finished memories neither of you were strong enough to say out loud in full. You learned he liked fruit, that he slept on his side, that he sometimes talked in Russian in his dreams and didn’t realise it.

One night, you asked, “Do you remember who you were, before all of it?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “I think… I remember who I loved. My sister. Steve. The Howling Commandos. But who I was a long time ago? He’s long gone.”

“He’s not,” you whispered. “You’re him. Just… in pieces.”

He looked at you like you were a miracle.

And one of those days, you fell in love with him. 

You didn’t fall in love all at once. It happened slowly, quietly—like stepping into warm water without realising how deep it’s gotten until you’re already submerged.

You tried not to make too much of it. Tried to keep it buried. But your heart had a mind of its own.

So one afternoon, you found yourself pacing in the royal garden while Nakia and Okoye pruned herbs, and blurted it out before you could stop yourself.

“I think I’m in trouble.”

Okoye raised an eyebrow, “Did you get injured?”

“No,” you said, “but I—“

Nakia interrupted you, a knowing smile curling at the edges of her mouth. “Is this the kind of trouble with blue eyes and long hair?”

“Well, yes, I—“ You groaned, pressing a hand to your face. “—I think I like him.”

Okoye tutted, not unkindly. “You think? I’ve seen the way you look at him like he’s a sunrise after a long night.”

Nakia laughed.

“I’m serious!” you said, trying to sound firm and absolutely failing. “He looks at me like I’m not broken.”

“What is wrong with that?” Okoye asked.

“Because I might believe him.” 

Nakia finally stopped  laughing. Her voice softened. “Sounds like someone sees you the way you’ve always deserved to be seen.”

You didn’t answer her. 

—

Meanwhile, Bucky sat on a sun-warmed bench beside T’Challa, overlooking the city below. After a long silence, Bucky confessed, “I think I’m in trouble.”

T’Challa turned to look at him and raised a brow. “The kind with bullets or feelings?”

“Feelings,” Bucky muttered under his breath. 

“Ah. More dangerous,” T’Challa smiled slightly. “The tracker?”

Bucky blinked. “How the hell does everyone know?”

“You are not subtle, my friend,” T’Challa said, patting him on the shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckled cynically, “Well…”

There was another pause, and then T’Challa spoke softly, “When I was hung up on Nakia, my baba used to tell me Uthando aluyomdlalo; ngumlambo ongenamkhawulo.”

Bucky stared at him for a while, translating in his head. Love is not a game. It is a river with no end.

“You cannot control where it takes you,” T’challa explained, “Only whether you choose to step in.”

Bucky sighed. “I think I already have.”

—

Later, by the lake, the air was still. The moonlight danced on the surface of the water, casting silver over the little hut Bucky called home.

You stood at his door, hands in clenched fists at your sides, heart racing in a way you hadn’t felt since you first got your powers. You knocked, and it was softer than intended— like a question more than a demand.

He opened the door like he’d been expecting you. You didn’t wait. You didn’t explain. You just looked at him and said, “I think I’m in trouble.”

He stepped aside without a word and let you in without a word. “Me too,” he whispered.

Inside the hut, the world seemed a bit quieter.

Bucky stood a few steps away, uncertain. You didn’t move at first. Neither did he.

Then he reached out, slowly, like approaching a wounded animal. His fingers brushed yours. You curled into his touch without thinking. “I— I think,” you choked out the words. “Fuck— I don’t know how to say it or where to begin…”

“Shhh, I know,” he whispered reassuringly, “because I do, too.”

You nodded, throat tight. “I know.”

You had known for a while now. Your senses allowed you to smell the oxytocin in the air when he was around you, to hear his heartbeat quicken when you spent time together, 

He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. He just stepped closer, forehead resting against yours like it was the only place he belonged. Your fingers traced the curve of his jaw, then slid to the scar marring his shoulder—a mark where his Hydra arm used to bed.

“I’m scared,” he confessed, voice low.

“Me too,” you whispered, your lips trembling.

But then you leaned in, and kissed him.

At first, it was tentative—testing. Then, almost immediately, it turned urgent, like you needed to carve this moment into memory, like you were oxygen to him. 

He kissed you back with desperation, like he was terrified you might vanish if he let go. His hand gripped your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left, no more hiding. When you finally broke apart, gasping, foreheads pressed, fingers still clinging to each other like anchors, you said it again, softer this time. “I know.”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “I know.”

The next few months unfolded in pieces.

You were his lover, though neither of you used the word much. Labels felt too fragile, too small for what you were building. You sparred in the mornings, slept tangled together some nights. Sometimes you held him through dreams he didn’t remember. Sometimes he held you through memories you couldn’t say out loud.

Neither of you said “I love you.”

You didn’t need to. You showed it in the broken ways people like you do. He cleaned your knives after missions. You kissed the scars on his body without asking where they came from. But in each other, you found peace.

But you did, though you didn’t say it until a year later, When Thanos’ army broke through Wakanda’s barriers.

You stood on the battlefield, shoulder to shoulder with the Dora Milaje. He was beside you, new arm gleaming.

You both knew you might die here.

So just before the charge Bucky turned to you and reached for your hand, calloused fingers threading with yours.

“I love you,” he said.

You looked at him, heart pounding. And in that final moment—when the world outside this little bubble burned and the force field opened—you said it back. “I love you too.”

And then you let go and ran into the fire together.

—

The battle was chaos.

Together, you carved a path through the madness, never far from each other’s side. Each glance was a tether. But when Thanos snapped—

You felt it first. A strange pull in your chest. Like gravity forgot you.

Bucky turned just in time to see you stumble.

“Doll?” He breathed out, voice catching in his throat.

You looked down at your hand— and your fingers were dissolving.

“Hey…” you said softly, like you didn’t want to scare him.

And then— you were gone, carried by the wind.

Bucky’s knees gave out next.

His vision blurred as your hands started to vanish. The world felt far away as he turned to Steve next and said his best friend’s name.

There was no time to be afraid. He just had one last thought— I’m coming with you.

And then— nothing. 

—

Five Years Later.

You came back gasping.

One moment there was nothing—and the next, the battlefield roared around you again. Portals opened. War cried out for soldiers. You ran through it, only searching for one person. You searched the air for his scent, tracked body heat through the crowds looking for Bucky.

When you found him, he grabbed you and pulled you into his arms, and held you so tightly it hurt. But you didn’t care. You buried your face in his shoulder and let yourself feel everything all at once. 

You fought side by side again that day, but even after Thanos was defeated, even after the dust finally settled, the weight on Bucky's shoulders hadn’t lifted.

That night, you and him laid down on a half-collapsed med tent. You were bruised, your leg cut, his knuckles torn open—but you both refused to be separated.

“Bucky,” you said gently as you took his shaking hands. “I’m here.”

He didn’t answer, he just stared blankly at you like you might disappear again.

“Talk to me,” you whispered.

And then— he broke.

His hands grabbed your face and kissed you like he had to prove you were real. Like if he didn’t, the universe might take you away again. His breath was uneven, voice hoarse as he finally spoke, “You turned to dust in front of me.”

You pulled him in, forehead to forehead, hearts thundering between bruised ribs. “We came back.”

“I watched it happen,” he choked. “You looked right at me—and then you were just gone. I—“ 

“I came back,” you repeated, firmer now. “I am here.”

He didn’t ask. He didn’t explain. He just pushed his forehead into your collarbone and let his walls fall. 

And in that surrender, you undressed in a desperate attempt to feel something, anything at all. 

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t perfect. His hands shook against your bare skin, yours ached. You kissed the scar at his shoulder where metal met flesh, and he kissed the bruise on your cheekbones as if he could heal it. 

And when you moved together, it was achingly intimate— two ghosts trying to remember how to be alive.

After, he stayed wrapped around you, hand on your stomach, breath finally steady. You ran your fingers through his hair and kissed his temple.

—

You soon learned that you were different people to who you were five years ago. 

You were still yourself—but edged. The senses they’d carved into you had only grown keener in the dust. You could smell grief in the air. Taste the metallic echo of time. You threw yourself into your work because it was the only way you could process anything. You have given more time to your job and less to everyone else in your life because it was the only way to block your demons out. 

And Bucky—God, Bucky.

Maybe it was watching you vanish into nothing. Maybe it was watching Steve choose a life he didn’t get to have. Maybe it was both. Whatever it was, it left him wound tight, walking through the world like it might crumble beneath his feet at any second. He became suffocatingly protective.

Now, he was always checking exits. Watching windows. Reading strangers’ faces. Looking for ghosts with Hydra insignias or familiar flags. Always ready to run.

You soon realised that while you both have survived death, surviving life was harder.

Some nights, he woke drenched in sweat, eyes wide and terrified. Sometimes he dragged you with him—out of bed, into the hall, whispering about danger that wasn’t there. About people who might take you from him again. You held him anyway.

You wrapped your arms around his trembling body.. You whispered to him that he was safe, that you were real. And some nights, he even believed you.

And on the quietest nights, when your pulse thudded steady beneath his hand, you’d say the only promise that mattered, “If we vanish again—we vanish together.”

He would nod against your chest and weep. 

And while your words helped him in the moment, things only got worse. 

He was still obsessed with not losing you again.

He watched you like a man teetering on the edge of a cliff. Always scanning, always planning, always afraid. He checked your comms before you left on a mission. He memorised your schedule like a battle plan. He begged for access to your Kimoyo beads so he could track your movements like a tactician studying the terrain.

It wasn’t protective anymore. It was paranoia.

He wouldn’t sleep if you were out past dark. Would sit by the window, waiting for footsteps or the sound of your key in the lock.

You tried to reason with him—gently, at first. You reminded him who you were, what you could do. 

None of it mattered.

To Bucky, you were breakable simply because you were his.

When he got pardoned, the first thing he said was, “Come with me. Brooklyn. I have to… make amends.”

“Bucky, the Wakandan royal family is extending my contract,” You sighed, kissing the crease between his eyebrows. “They trust me. I’m not leaving that behind.”

He didn’t argue. Not really. He just clenched his teeth and nodded. But you could feel the storm brewing, so you compromised. You would spend three months in Brooklyn with him, then three in Wakanda for work. A split life. 

But even in that compromise, the obsession bled through. Every time you left, he’d call. Text. Ping your locator chip on your kimoyo beads. Just checking, he’d say. Just making sure you’re okay.

It stopped feeling sweet. It started to feel like surveillance.

Sometimes you’d be halfway through a mission—deep in a jungle or in the middle of a compromised crowds—and his name would light up your screen five, six, ten times. His worry grew into desperation. 

You knew he didn’t mean to be cruel. But it didn’t make it easier.

And then one day— it was too much.

You’d just gotten back from a run along the Wakandan border. You were bruised but fine as you walked into your apartment and found your phone flashing with fourteen missed calls and a message that said, “If you don’t answer in five minutes, I’m calling Shuri. I’ll track your signal myself if I have to.”

When you called him, he picked up instantly. “Are you okay? I thought—God, I thought something happened—”

“Bucky,” you snapped. “Stop.”

You were pacing now, your heart hammering harder than it had in the field. “You have got to stop doing this. I am not going to disappear every time I step outside!”

“I just—” he started, but his voice cracked. “I can’t lose you again. I can’t—”

“I’m not yours to lose,” you said, quieter this time.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” you said, softer now. “But this—this isn’t love. This is fear in disguise. You’re watching me like I’m one wrong step away from disappearing, and it’s like you’re still stuck in that moment five years ago.”

“I am,” he said, unbearably honest. “You turned to dust. We can't just pretend that's not real.”

“We turned to dust, Bucky,” you corrected, your voice shaking now. “And we came back. We both did.”

There was a long pause. He just exhaled like the air had been punched from his lungs.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said again, but this time, it sounded like a prayer. 

You wiped a tear from your cheek and whispered, “Then let me live.”

That night, he promised he’d do better.

He swore he would be on time to his therapy sessions. That he’d let you breathe. That he’d learn how to love you without gripping so tight it left bruises.

And for a while, he did. 

But healing isn't linear, and Bucky Barnes fell back into the spiral like it was a black hole.

Two months later, the calls started again. The check-ins. You’d wake to a dozen voicemails. You’d tell him your mission schedule, but he’d still show up unannounced in Wakanda under some flimsy excuse, saying he just needed to see you, to make sure.

Then the court notices started coming. Missed sessions. Warnings from the state department. Red letters in bold ink.

He wasn’t going to therapy anymore. He was tracking you instead.

When you returned from your latest mission along the southern border, there he was— waiting in your apartment in Wakanda, hands shaking.

“Bucky?” you asked, dropping your gear. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer at first. Just stepped toward you, breathing hard like he’d run the whole way from Brooklyn.

“I tried calling,” he said. “You didn’t answer. You were late reporting in. You weren’t supposed to be gone that long—”

“I was on a stealth mission, James!” you shouted, incredulous. “Do you hear yourself?”

He winced when you used his first name. “I thought you were in trouble.”

“You thought I was in trouble so you hopped a plane, skipped two international borders, and missed court-mandated therapy to come stalk me?!”

“I wasn’t stalking—” he started, but you cut him off, voice shaking.

“Bucky, go to fucking therapy! You are missing mandated sessions to follow me around like I’m going to vanish into smoke again. You’re not okay.”

His eyes flashed with tears building up in the corners. “I’m not okay because the one person who makes me feel safe disappears for weeks at a time without warning!”

“What kind of pressure is that? I am not your fucking safety net!” you finally screamed, though you did not mean to. “I am your girlfriend, not your property.”

He flinched.

“You don’t trust me,” you said, your voice cracking at the seams. “You trust your fear more than me. You trust your obsession more than you trust my skills, my choices, my life.”

“I do trust you—”

“No, you don’t!” you snapped. “If you did, you wouldn’t be here. You’d be in therapy. Not sitting on my damn bed, panicking because I missed a check-in by three hours.”

He looked down. “I just wanted to make sure—”

“I know,” you said softly, bitterly. “I know. And I love you. God, I love you.”

Your voice cracked again, but your words were firm. “But this isn’t love anymore, Bucky. This is control. This is not good for you. Being here? With me? It's hurting both of us.”

Finally, Bucky nodded. Just once.

“Do you think we’ll ever be okay again?” he asked, voice barely audible.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and sat next to him, squeezing his human hand. You didn’t want to do this like this. But the moment you looked at him you knew you couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine and dandy. 

You took a breath.

“This…” you started gently, like saying it softer might hurt less. “This isn’t working.”

He blinked. “What?”

“This,” you said, motioning between you with a shaking hand. “Us. The way it is right now. It’s not working.”

He jerked his hand back, standing up in shock like you’d slapped him. “Wait—what the hell are you saying?”

“I’m saying you left Brooklyn without clearance. Again. You broke parole—again. You’ve got people looking for you.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” he snapped, eyes dark. “You weren’t answering. You were off the grid. What was I supposed to do? Just sit around and wait?”

“Yes,” was all you said. You didn’t need to remind him that he needed to trust you. That he needed to trust your skills. 

His voice was shaking now. “What happened to ‘if we vanish again, we vanish together’?”

You closed your eyes at the words. You’d meant it.

But promises can rot when fed with obsession.

Your voice cracked. “I said that when you could breathe without having to know where I was every second of every day, Bucky.”

He looked down, jaw, hands balled into fists. “I can’t lose you again.”

“And I can’t live like this,” you said, voice strained as you wiped your tears away. “I’m not your leash, and I’m not your cure. You can’t chain yourself to me because you don’t know how to be with yourself.”

His eyes filled with watery tears, and he didn’t speak.

So you did. 

“Please,” you said, “leave by morning. Go home. Check in with Dr. Raynor when you land. If you don’t, they’ll arrest you.”

He opened his mouth, but you shook your head. You couldn’t do another round of argument.

“Don’t,” you whispered. “Don’t make this harder.”

He took a breath, chest heaving like he’d run a marathon just to make it this far. “So that’s it?”

You didn’t answer.

Just stepped up and pressed your hand gently against his chest—where his heart still beat too fast and your enhanced hearing was picking it up too well—and whispered, “Goodbye, Bucky.”

He turned without another word, because anything he said might break you both.

And when the door shut behind him, the silence that followed felt like a funeral.

—

Bucky didn't know where to go, so he wandered and wandered until he sat down on the palace steps, hands shaking, heart swirling like a thunderstorm in his chest. 

He didn’t notice T’Challa approach until the king sat beside him, arms resting on his knees.

For a long while, neither of them spoke. “She told you to leave,” T’Challa said simply. Not unkind, but not sparing.

Bucky’s teeth clenched. “Yeah.”

“She’s right, you know.”

“I don’t want to hear that right now.”

“I know,” T’Challa said. “But I am saying it anyway, my friend.”

Bucky said nothing, fists digging into the vibranium infused staircase step beneath him. T’Challa went on, “You love her. I know. She loves you too. But love twisted by fear is dangerous. You were not protecting her. You were holding her hostage in your panic.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” T’Challa interrupted gently. “And she forgave you for longer than most would. But she cannot carry both her past and yours. You nearly became what you once fought against: control.”

Bucky turned his head away, chest tight. “I didn’t mean to. I just— I couldn’t lose her again.”

“It’s not just you,” T’Challa said softly, “she… she needs space. She’s throwing herself into work, and perhaps that’s how she copes, but she’s becoming… distant. From you. From all of us.”

Bucky’s breath hitched.

“You know I know what it feels like firsthand to come back from being turned to dust.” T’Challa said, “and when we came back, we all changed. I believe you might need time away from each other to first understand how you both have changed.”

Bucky finally looked at him, eyes rimmed with red. “So what, I just pretend none of this happened?”

“No,” T’Challa said. “You leave. You go to therapy. And you become someone who deserves a second chance—not from her. From yourself.”

Then T’Challa stood, brushing nonexistent dust from his robes. He looked down at the man once known as the Winter Soldier— now just a man.

“I will have a jet ready within the hour,” he said. “You will not say goodbye. That would only cause more pain.”

Bucky could only nod. Deep down, T’challa was his friend as much as he was yours. He was looking out for him as much as he was looking out for you. 

—

Bucky didn’t go straight to the jet in the landing pad. 

He walked around first—through the gardens he used to kiss you in, down the quiet stone paths lined with flowering trees. And then, when he couldn’t stall any longer, he found Shuri.

She was in her lab, sleeves rolled up, a smudge of grease on her cheek, working on a new upgrade for the Kimoyo bead system. She didn’t look surprised when she saw him.

He stood just inside the door for a while, fidgeting with the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder. 

“I’m leaving,” he said finally, voice hoarse.

Shuri nodded with a sad smile. “I heard.”

He hesitated. “Can you keep tabs on her for me?” He asked. As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he realised how bad it must’ve sounded. “I’m not asking you to spy on her. I swear.”

That made her pause. She turned to him, brows raised in wary curiosity. “Sounds like you are.”

“I’m not,” he said again, hands up in surrender. “But I need—I just need to know if she’s hurt. That’s all. If she’s injured. If something happens in the field. Not every move, not every detail, just... if she’s okay.”

Shuri’s eyes softened. “She wants you to move on. You know that, right?”

“I know,” Bucky said quickly. “And I won’t reach out. I won’t interfere. But if something serious happens—if she’s in the med bay or worse—I need to know. I can’t breathe not knowing that.”

Shuri crossed her arms. Studied him.

“You still think it’s love, don’t you?” she asked quietly.

He flinched. “I don’t know what it is anymore. But I know that it’s not trust. Not peace. That’s why I’m leaving.”

She held his eyes for a long time. Then she nodded once. “If she’s ever in danger, you’ll hear from me. That’s all I’ll promise.”

He nodded, relieved. “Thank you.”

Shuri stepped closer, pressing a new set of Kimoyo beads into his palm. “These won’t track her. But they will let you receive encrypted pings if I send one. No contact. Just information.”

Bucky curled his fingers around the beads like they were a lifeline.

“I’ll earn my second chance,” he whispered, almost to himself. “Even if it’s just for me.”

Shuri nodded. And with that, she turned back to her work.

Bucky walked out of the lab with the bracelet tucked into his pocket and boarded the jet alone.

Not with closure. But with a choice to begin again.

—

Six Months Later

You hadn’t meant to watch the news. It was just playing in the corner of the lab, the volume low was meant to be background noise.  

But there he was.

Bucky, onn screen, his hair shorter now, beard shaved. He was standing next to Sam, both of them looking like they’d just walked through hell and come out victorious. 

“Barnes and Wilson led the operation to contain a Flag Smasher attack—”

The footage cut to shaky video: Bucky saving hostages from a burning truck. Sam dropped from above, wings that Shuri gave him expanding in the night sky

You stopped breathing for a second.

Not because he looked good— though he did— but because he looked... different. Lighter. Still sharp around the edges, still Bucky, but not strung so tight he might snap. His shoulders weren’t so hunched. His eyes didn’t carry that haunted glaze you'd come to know too well.

You looked down at your phone, thumb hovering over the screen. Muscle memory had already opened your messages. The text thread was still there.

You started to type. 

Saw you on TV today. You looked—

You paused and backspaced.

Took down some Flag Smashers, huh? Didn’t even trip once. I’m impressed.

Delete.

You looked okay.

No.

You stared at the screen. You wanted to say something small, something kind. Something to let him know you’d seen him, that you still cared.

And then—

“Nope,” Okoye said from behind you.

You jumped, flipping your phone face-down like a teenager caught texting a crush.

Okoye raised an eyebrow, arms crossed in full general-mode. “I know that look. You are thinking about him.”

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “He looked... better.”

“Good. That is what healing is supposed to look like,” she said, tilting her head. “But do not dishonour that progress by dragging each other back into the fire so soon.”

“I wasn’t going to send it,” you muttered under your breath. 

Okoye gave you a really? look. 

You smiled sheepishly. “Okay, maybe. But just a little.”

She stepped forward, took your phone, and pocketed. “Let him move on. I will take you on patrol,” she said briskly, already walking toward the hangar. “And after, we have tea. And girl talk.”

“Girl talk?” you chuckled, following.

“Yes. I have opinions on your taste in emotionally volatile men. It is time you heard them.”

You laughed despite yourself.

—

One Year Later.

The palace was quieter now that T’Challa was gone.

And grief didn’t move cleanly through your body like it used to. It crept and lingered and collected behind your eyes, in the back of your throat, in the hollow ache of your chest that wouldn’t quite go away.

You’d expected to feel lost. But not like this.

You stood at the balcony outside your quarters, fingers curled around a steaming cup of tea Ayo had forced into your hands. 

You hadn’t slept. Couldn’t eat. Before returning back to your quarters, you stayed with Shuri the entire day today, being present for her and Queen Ramonda.

And then the doorbell chimed.

You opened it to find a small wrapped bundle of flowers on the floor. A delivery slip attached in elegant Wakandan script: With honor and remembrance.

In the bouquet was Snowdrops, winter jasmine, and White hyacinth.

It was a winter bouquet.

Not many people in Wakanda would choose those blooms. Not unless they’d meant something.

It was him. Bucky.

He must’ve contacted his old florist in the city to have it delivered to your wing of the palace. 

You sat on the edge of the bed, the flowers still in your hands, too stunned to cry.

And then, before you even realised what you were doing, your phone was in your lap. You opened the message thread with Bucky. 

You typed, Shuri said she texted you. Said you could come to the funeral. Why didn’t you?

You stared at it. Then, slowly, you deleted it.

Because what would he even say? That he wanted to give you space? That he didn’t know if you wanted to see him? That he sent flowers because showing up would hurt you more?

Maybe he thought the blooms were enough. But they weren’t.

You needed him— a friend who had known T’Challa like you had. Someone who remembered the man like you did— not just the king.

You wanted Bucky to hold you and reminisce about that time you dared T’challa to arm wrestle him. You wanted to laugh about his horrible jokes during harvest. But all you got were flowers.

And wasn’t this what you asked for?

You had told him to let go. To move on. To live his life. And he had.

You wiped at your eyes with the back of your wrist, too tired to be angry. Too empty to cry. Later, you placed the bouquet beside the small altar in the throne room, next to T’Challa’s photo.

A winter gift for a king.

You whispered, "I miss both of you."

—

You didn’t sleep much the year after that.

You didn’t eat much either. Grief gnawed at your gut like hunger, but nothing ever settled. Not even water. Not even rest.

All you had left was work. You helped Wakanda defend itself from foreign attacks, and when the time came, you helped track Riri Williams for Shuri. 

But when Shuri was taken by the Talokan, your sanity was cracked clean in half.

You didn’t feel fear. Or rage. Just focus. Razor-sharp, ice-cold, deadly focus.

You helped Nakia track her— followed her scent through the water, infrared vision scanning jungle heat signatures, nose full of salt and humidity until found her underwater. You got her back.

But then Namor attacked, and Queen Ramonda didn’t make it.

You had to look at one more coffin. One more goodbye to one more person gone who had offered you safety, love, and dignity.

Ramonda had seen both you and Bucky when you came to Wakanda scarred and haunted. She had welcomed you with open arms. And now she was gone too.

At the funeral, you held Shuri up because she was shaking. You held her hand. And when it was over, you took her into your quarters and let her sob into your shoulder for hours

You didn’t cry.

You couldn’t. You had to be strong for her.

That night, your phone buzzed with a message.

Bucky : “You okay?”

That was it.

You stared at it. You read it again. Then again.

Are you okay? 

You almost laughed. As if that was a question that could be answered in a text. As if that was something you could possibly explain.

Your queen was dead. Your sister in everything but blood had just buried both her brother and mother within 14 months. The kingdom you had called home for the past decade was under attack. You hadn't slept in four days. Your body was covered in bruises. And Bucky—the man who had once buried his face in your collarbone and sobbed because he couldn’t bear to lose you—sent a text.

A fucking text. Not even a call. 

You set your phone down and didn’t respond.

You didn’t throw it. You didn’t curse. You didn’t scream. You just... sat there. Numb. 

And that was the first night you drank.

You drank because your hands wouldn’t stop shaking and your mind wouldn’t stop screaming and no mission could numb you enough to silence the memory of T’challa’s last words or Ramonda’s last breath or Shuri’s tears soaking through your shirt.

You didn’t stop after one. You wanted to not feel at all. And when the bottle emptied, you drank again. And the next night. And the one after that.

It didn’t fix anything.

—

A Year Later.

You had buried yourself in fieldwork— back to back missions for Wakanda with little to no rest in between. It dulled the ache of grief, but it never fully faded. You were getting better. Still dying inside, but a little slower now.

You took risks that made even Okoye grit their teeth, but you didn’t care. With Shuri as the new Black Panther and the Midnight Angels at your side, it felt like movement was the only thing keeping you from collapsing. 

You didn’t care if the assignments were dangerous. Maybe you even preferred it that way.

Shuri was adjusting your new visor in her lab when she glanced up casually. “You know your ex is running for Congress?”

You tilted your head, “What?”

She flicked her fingers and brought up a holographic newsfeed. There he was—James Buchanan Barnes. Neatly combed hair in a dark blue suit, sporting a nervous half-smile. He was shaking hands somewhere in New York, surrounded by cameras.

You stared. “Bucky… in politics? Are we sure that’s not a skrull?”

Shuri laughed, brightening the room. “Positive. He filed last week. His campaign’s all over the place—veteran advocacy, post-Blip recovery programs.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Making amends.”

“He always said he wanted to,” she said gently.

You nodded, silent for a second too long. “He’ll do well.”

Shuri studied your expression. “You think?”

You didn’t answer right away. Your eyes stayed on the image—on Bucky’s restrained expression, the way he looked down like he was afraid to take up space.

“Yeah,” you said. “Have you seen that smile? He could charm a whole room without opening his mouth.”

Shuri laughed again. You found yourself smiling too, even if it hurt to do so.

For a while, she was as self-destructive as you. But now, you didn’t know how Shuri carried her own losses so gracefully, how she held herself together. Maybe it was the suit or the legacy. Or maybe she was just stronger. Your method was simpler: run into danger and don’t care if you make it out. It wasn’t healthy. But it was efficient.

Still, your senses were stronger than ever. You have noticed how Shuri’s heartbeat always picked up when you mention Bucky. You always assumed it was because she was worried about you— about the old wounds reopening. 

What you still didn’t know, what she never told you, was that she and Bucky were in constant contact. And after her mother’s death, her updates to him became more detailed, more frequent. Perhaps, it was because you were the closest thing she had to a sister. Perhaps she wanted to keep you safe— and letting Bucky know of your missions meant that if anything were to go wrong, he would be there to help.

She had already lost T’challa and Ramonda. She was not going to lose you, too.

—

Utah. Thunderbolts* timeline.

The gas station was run-down, lit by flickering fluorescent lights and signs buzzing with static. Inside, the team Yelena had apparently nicknamed the Thunderbolts stood in varying degrees of impatience as Bucky took off the last of their restraints.

Yelena rubbed her wrists and shot Bucky a sidelong glance. “So. How are we going to track Bob?”

Bucky didn’t answer immediately. He was already pulling out his phone, lips pressed in a hard line. “Can’t track Mel’s phone,” he muttered under his breath. “Wherever they are, they must have signal jammers.”

“Great,” John said. “And we’re just supposed to... drive and hope we’re going in the right direction?”

Ava narrowed her eyes. “We don't have time. If Val has Bob, there’s no telling—”

Bucky raised a hand. “I… I might know someone nearby who can track a scent halfway across the world.”

Alexei straightened with a hopeful gleam in his eye. “Ah! We are getting reinforcements?” He cracked his knuckles. 

Bucky was already reaching for his phone, hesitation coiling in his chest. His thumb hovered over the screen.

He shouldn't be doing this, right?

Were you ready to see him? After everything? After how you ended things? Did you even want to see him?

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shove down the uncertainty clawing at his ribs. 

Focus, Barnes. 

This wasn’t about closure or guilt or anything personal. Civilians could be in danger. And if Sentry project was as dangerous as they said, then they were way past playing it safe.

Even if it was messy. Even if it hurt.

“Something like that,” Bucky muttered, then hit Call—and walked out into the gas station parking lot.

—

Call to Shuri,  Wakandan Secure Channel.

“Bucky,” Shuri answered briskly, “If this is about a replacement arm because the raccoon stole it again—”

“It’s not,” Bucky cut in. “I need hotel information.”

A pause. “For whom?”

“For her.” He didn’t have to say your name. Shuri knew exactly who he meant.

“Why?”

“You told me she was in a joint op with Everett Ross in Salt Lake City. I just need the hotel name, Shuri.”

“That’s classified,” she said, more defensively than she meant. She was willing to give him many things about you, but this might be teetering on a line she wouldn’t cross.

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t urgent. We need to track someone before he levels a city,” Bucky explained, “Please.”

Shuri went quiet, because she knew a call from the White Wolf meant things were getting out of hand. 

—

You smelled him before he knocked.

He smelled like leather and metal. He had that faint, signature scent — like snowmelt clinging to old wood. 

You just finished an intel swap with Everett Ross, and now all you wanted to do was lie down and sleep. That was until you caught a whiff of his scent and you stopped dead in your tracks. 

The knock came a second later.

You took a breath, schooled your expression, and opened the door.

And there he was. James Buchanan Barnes. Standing in a Salt Lake City hotel hallway. 

His hair was longer than you last saw on TV, a little more silver threading through the temples. A black t-shirt that clung to him in all the ways that weren’t fair, leather jacket over it. 

You froze for a moment. 

“Wow… I— you…,” he said, as if he couldn’t help himself. “You’re still as beautiful as the last time I saw you.”

You let out a dry laugh before you could stop yourself, folding your arms. “You showing up uninvited in a hallway in Utah wasn’t exactly how I imagined hearing that.”

Bucky gave you a lopsided little smile — the kind that once made your knees weak. “Yeah, well… surprise?”

You rolled your eyes. But it was hard to ignore how your heartbeat had kicked up. “How did you even know I was here?”

He winced. “Okay, so… don’t be mad.”

“Oh no,” you said, flatly. “Great way to start.”

“I, uh… may have asked Shuri.”

Your brows rose. “You what?”

“Just for updates.”

“Bucky.”

“She didn’t tell me much! Just—like—general stuff. Missions. If you were injured. If you’d… eaten.”

“You’ve been asking my best friend to report on my food intake?”

“Okay, that was one time!”

“You don’t get to be worried anymore,” you cut in ever so gently, and the smile dropped from his face.

“I know,” he said. 

You stared at him, longing pressing under your ribs.

“You could’ve just called,” you said.

He swallowed. “I didn’t think you’d answer.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I…” He ran a hand through his hair. “I needed your help. For something. But part of me… I- I don’t know. I would be lying if I said I didn't want to see you.”

“Well, congratulations.” You rolled your eyes, “You found me.”

He didn’t respond. Just stood there with that goddamn puppy-dog look on his face — the one you used to wake up to. The one that said he still loved you in ways he probably didn’t know how to stop.

The silence stretched thin.

Finally, you sat down on your bed and said, “You weren’t there.”

Sitting down on the armchair across from you, Bucky’s brows pulled together, and he knew instantly what you meant.

“T’Challa,” you said. “Ramonda. You didn’t come. You sent flowers. A text. That’s all.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Your voice cracked at the edges. “You don’t get it, Bucky. You were family. They loved you.”

“I loved them, too,” he said. “God, I loved them. T’Challa gave me a second chance. Ramonda treated me like a second son. You think it didn’t kill me not to be there?”

“Then why weren’t you?” you asked, quieter now. “Why didn’t you show up?”

He looked away. “Because I knew I’d see you, too.”

Oh. 

He continued, voice rough, eyes fixed on a random point over your shoulder. “I knew I’d see you in white, standing in front of that city that saved both of us. And I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold it together. I couldn’t go to Wakanda to grieve them and be reminded of you. I was already falling apart. I couldn’t break in front of everyone.”

Your breath hitched, just a little.

“You think I didn’t fall apart?” you whispered. “You think I didn’t wake up everyday being reminded of you? That I didn’t carry Shuri when she couldn’t stand even when I missed you?”

He looked back at you, “You are stronger than me.”

“No, Bucky,” You shook your head. “I just showed up.”

He swallowed hard, his chest heaving just slightly.

You stared at each other again — that thick, choking silence drowning you like a wave.

And still… underneath it all, there was love. Frustrated, frayed, unresolved — but alive. 

Bucky leaned forward. “I know I messed up. I know I don’t deserve to ask you for anything.”

You didn’t answer. You just watched him, waiting.

“I’ll stop,” he promised. “The updates. Everything. I’ll leave you alone. I just… need you to do one thing.”

Before you could respond, your nose twitched.

You frowned and sniffed the air, eyes narrowing when your ears picked up four new heartbeats in the vicinity. 

“Bucky,” you said slowly. “Does this have anything to do with the four jackasses currently pressed up against the hallway wall?”

He blinked. “...No?”

You sighed, walked to the front of the room and opened the door.  Yelena, Ava, John, and Alexei all flinched like a bunch of kids caught behind a curtain.

“I told you to wait in the car,” Bucky groaned. 

You crossed your arms at the four extremely guilty faces frozen mid-lean.

Ava, arms crossed like she wasn’t just eavesdropping with laser focus. Yelena, who gave a tiny wave. “Hi.” John, trying very hard to act casual. Alexei was grinning wide. “Ah! She is even more terrifying than Mr. Soldier described! I like her.”

You stared at them. Then at Bucky.

He winced. “...So yeah. About that one thing.”

—

They gave you the rundown on Bob and the Sentry Project—chaotic, riddled with questions and coded language that made you realise that Bucky was right— this was a larger-than-life situation.

It was enough to raise every red flag in your head, and by the end of it, you were just dragging a hand down your face like you were wiping off the last shred of peace you had left.

“Fine,” you muttered, already rerouting your mental map like instinct. You stepped in closer, tilting your head just slightly at the three people who had been in close vicinity to Bob. 

Yelena, John, and  Ava.

You went in close and did a focus inhale through your nose. Your senses lit up. You could smell a thread between them— that must be Bob’s smell. 

You could pick apart the sweat and smoke residue. You could smell the iron-spike scent of stress hormones surging through their blood. You could practically taste the adrenaline.

“Got it,” you said, nodding once.

Then you turned, already moving.

Your pupils contracted as you flipped into the edge of your infrared vision, sweeping the environment in layered pulses of heat and light. People lit up like sketches in flames. Your hearing tuned up next, catching radio chatter three blocks out, the thrum of a drone overhead.

You walked out, and they followed you as you followed the scent straight toward Avengers Tower.

—

Void, New York.

The city was being devoured—block by block, building by building—into a yawning chasm of darkness,a  negative space eating reality alive. It was as if Bob had carved a hole in the fabric of reality and let nothingness bleed through. The skyline blurred at the edges, buildings sucked into the black like paper into flame. 

People were turned into shadows, and what scared you the most was you can’t smell them anymore. You can’t hear them anymore. They… vanished.

You stood on the edge of where Grand Central Station used to be. Bob was in the center of it all—or what was left of him. 

You had found him, and it had gone bad. Catastrophically bad.

Yelena didn’t hesitate. She was the first one to go in. 

The others had followed—Alexei, John, Ava—one by one, swallowed whole by the nothingness.

Now it was just you and Bucky.

The edge of the Void shimmered like a heat mirage, the floor fracturing under it. 

You stared into the nothingness and it looked exactly how you’d felt the day Wakanda lost its king. The day Ramonda breathed her last breath in that throne room. The day you held Shuri’s hand as she lost everything.

And all you could think, selfishly, was how Bucky hadn’t been there.

You swallowed hard, voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m scared.”

Bucky looked at you, eyes softening.

You didn’t know what was on the other side. You didn’t know what you’d see— what the Void would show you, or take from you.

But for the first time in years, the love of your life reached out and took your hand. 

“If we vanish again,” he said quietly, “we vanish together.”

Right. 

Your fingers curled around his, Your voice barely trembled as you said it again, “Together.”

Then you stepped forward and let the Void take you both.

—

Bucky woke up in the snow.

He recognised this place even before he heard the screaming wind, before he looked down and saw his blood soaking into the white ground.

Bucky was twenty-something again—still Sergeant James Barnes. Still just a soldier, a friend, a smartass.

He was watching himself fall. Watching his arm catch on the railing, and breaking on impact. He watched his body spiral and bounce once before settling.

He tried to look away, but he couldn’t.

He remembered waiting for hours for help. No one came.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered, but the younger version didn’t respond. He blinked once more and then stopped moving altogether.

Then, in an attempt to escape this vision, he buried himself in an avalanche of snow.

He woke up in another room. It was his apartment, familiar and claustrophobic at the same time. The curtains were drawn tight, the air thick with the scent of cheap whiskey 

And there he was — himself again. This Bucky was slouched on the floor, back against the wall, surrounded by a graveyard of bottles. Some still full. Most empty. The floor was soaked where he’d dropped one earlier.

He had a bottle pressed to his lips now. He took another long, angry swig. Then another. Then—

Nothing.

No burn. No warmth in his chest. No haze. He roared suddenly, launching the bottle across the room. It shattered against the wall. Glass rained down like glittering snow.

“Why won’t it work?” he shouted, voice hoarse. “Why won’t it fucking work?”

He lurched to his feet, fumbling for another bottle in the kitchen. His hands shook. His breathing was ragged.

“Just let me forget,” he begged, staring at his reflection in the microwave’s glass. “Let me forget. Let me be numb.”

But his body refused. His curse of super soldier metabolism was that he would never let him escape. He would never get drunk ever again.

He threw the next bottle harder. The glass cut his knuckles. He didn’t feel it.

He had only landed from Wakanda twelve hours ago. But this time, he landed with the knowledge that you were not his anymore. And now there was no one to fight with. No one to talk to. No one to hold his hand when the nightmares got bad. No one to anchor him when he spiraled.

He slid down the wall and pressed his forehead to his knees like he could disappear into his own body.

He whispered your name over and over again.

The most devastating part was knowing that he had finally found someone who saw him, and still, somehow, he had driven you away.

He stayed like that for what felt like hours. Days. Maybe he never left that floor at all.

Then — Bucky saw a ripple from a puddle across the room where he had spilled his drink earlier. 

He looked into it, and instead of a reflection, he saw you. 

You were curled up on a couch in another life, in another room. Fingers wrapped around a half-empty bottle. Your head lolling against the armrest, eyes glazed. Laughter bubbled out of your mouth that didn’t belong there — not the happy kind. This laughter was crooked, the kind you used to hide the sobs building beneath your ribs.

The bottle slipped from your fingers and onto the floor.

You were drunk. Not a buzz. Not a haze. You were gone, and it showed.

You started slurring words to no one and between fits of laughter. The makeup smeared across your cheek wasn’t from a night out — it was from wiping away tears with the back of your hand over and over again.

You were wrecked in a way Bucky couldn’t be.

You had the freedom he envied, the escape he was never allowed. You could bury the grief. He had to live with it. And then— he saw what you were clutching in your lap.

It was a photo of You, Bucky, Shuri, and T’challa, taken by Queen Ramonda by the lake, only a couple of days before Thanos attacked. 

You stared at the photo like it might move. Like if you looked hard enough, you could reach through the glossy paper and pull them out.

But they were gone.

T’Challa. Ramonda.

And Bucky.

He hadn’t died, but he wasn’t there either. Not when it mattered.

Your grip on the bottle tightened. And then—suddenly—you screamed. “WHY AREN’T YOU HERE?!”

The words tore out of you like glass, shredding you from the inside out.

You hurled the bottle across the room. It hit a wall, shattered, and splashed liquor across the floor. Your body jolted with it, like you’d thrown a piece of yourself.

And then you just collapsed yourself, rocking back and forth. “My fault,” you whispered over and over again. “My fault. All my fault. My fault.”

Bucky watched from the other side of the reflection, both of you broken in different ways—he, invulnerable and furious that he couldn’t feel the poison work; you, drowning in it.

The grief between you wasn’t just shared.

It was mirrored.

Both of you in your separate corners of the world, drinking like it might erase memory, like it might bring someone back, like it might turn regret into penance.

With a deep breath, he took a leap of faith and stepped into the puddle. 

It felt like falling like leaping off a rooftop with no guarantee of landing, but choosing the fall anyway because it might bring him back to you.

And he was right.

He was there, with the real you. 

You were in that room, in the corner, watching it all play out like a film you couldn’t pause.

That puddle had been more than a doorway. It had been a choice. And he had chosen you.

Bucky knelt down beside you slowly. He didn’t say anything at first. Just pulled you into him.

And for a moment, you didn’t move.

But then his arms wrapped around you, the walls gave in. Your fingers clutched at the back of his jacket and you buried your face into his shoulder.

You stayed like that for a while. 

Then, muffled against him, you said, “I should’ve called.”

He just held you tighter.

You continued. “You gave me flowers. A text. It wasn’t much, but… at least it was something. I didn’t even text back. I didn’t give you anything.”

Bucky pulled back slightly to look at you, his hands still resting gently on your shoulders. “No,” he said. “Don’t apologize. I—” He exhaled slowly, eyes dark and honest. “I was suffocating you. I… I ruined you.”

“You never ruined me, Bucky,” you said. “You broke my heart. But you never ruined me.”

Silence stretched again — for a while.

“I was scared I’d never see you again,” you admitted, quieter now. “That you’d disappear into some mission and I’d never get to tell you I was still… that I still— fuck… I—” Unable to finish your sentences, looked away instead, chewing the inside of your cheek. Then you asked what had been burning in the back of your throat this whole time: “Are we ever going to be okay again?”

His answer was quiet, immediate. “We already are.” He kissed your temple — not possessive or desperate, just… loving. 

You blinked up at him. “What?”

He smiled. “You’re here. I’m here. We’re talking. Yelling. Holding each other. That’s more than most people get.”

You chuckled, exhaling a shaky breath, forehead resting against his. “So what now?”

“Now?” he murmured. “We get up.”

Your hand slid down his arm and laced your fingers with his. “And what about the end of the world?”

He gave a half-laugh, half-sigh. “Right. That.”

You both stood, like people learning how to walk for the first time again.

He looked at you, wiping a tear from his cheeks. “C’mon,” he said, nodding toward the door. “Let’s go find Bob.”

And this time, you walked out together.

—

Post-Void. New York, again.

You’d done it. You’d pulled Bob out, helped him control the void inside of him. 

And just as the dust started to settle, Val ambushed you all with a press conference. She threw around the word New Avengers like it was already printed across a glossy magazine cover. 

Your phone immediately lit up like a Christmas tree.

Everett Ross: Did my EX-WIFE just put you in the New Avengers lineup? Why did you not tell me this?

You winced. Ex-wife. Of course.

Then, Shuri: ??? What is HAPPENING? Should I have not given Bucky your hotel?

And the kicker came from the current king of Wakanda himself.

M’Baku: Weren’t you on a foreign mission on behalf of Wakanda? You are now on AMERICAN NEWS? Call back immediately.

You groaned and thumbed your phone to Do Not Disturb.

The others were watching you now. Bob was still sitting in the sun. Yelena tried ignoring the cameras with practiced disinterest. 

Beside you, Bucky was catching his breath, hair tousled, jacket streaked with dust. 

“You wanna come back to my place?” he asked, pointing to your phone. “Make the calls from there, if this is too much.”

You blinked. “Don’t you live in D.C. now? Whole Capitol Hill, suit-and-tie Bucky?”

He shrugged, glanced at a hovering drone cam, and flipped it off without changing expression. “Kept my old apartment in Brooklyn. Rent controlled.”

You smirked, though the change in his heartbeat did not go unnoticed. “You’re sentimental.”

“No,” he chuckled. “I’m cheap. But if it helps, the water pressure is still garbage and the radiator still sounds like a haunted typewriter. Just like last time you were there.”

Before you could answer, Alexei called out from behind you. “Can we all come? Team debrief?”

You turned, and shook your head. “Top secret. I’ll find you later.”

Ava lifted a hand lazily. “She’s a tracker. She will.”

She was right. If anyone tried to disappear, you’d have them in an hour.

As you turned away with Bucky at your side, your super-hearing picked up everything. Far behind you, John Walker, never one for subtlety, muttered to someone — probably Yelena, “Twenty bucks says they’re back together by tonight. I mean, do you see how they look at each other?”

You kept walking. Bucky hadn’t heard it — his senses weren’t as sharp as yours, even with the serum.

You debated pretending you hadn’t either. 

—

You knew before he even unlocked the door that keeping this place wasn’t about rent control.

When it creaked as you walked, the first thing you could smell was remnants of yourself. 

The radiator still coughed in the corner like it was dying. Everything smelled faintly of old wood and clean laundry, and something faintly him — steel and cedar and memory.

Your breath hitched when you saw the shelf to your left still had your copy of Baldwin’s The Fire Next Time, the one Bucky swore he never borrowed.

Your old hoodie — the grey one with the thumb holes — was folded on the arm of the couch like you had just worn it yesterday.

The photos in the frames hadn’t changed. There was one of you and him, laughing in the sunset. One of Bucky, Sam, Steve, and T’challa with you and Shuri making faces while photobombing them. Then, a photo of you, him, Shuri, and T’challa— his copy of the one Ramonda had taken. 

Oh. 

The space was like a museum and a time capsule rolled into one.

You didn’t say anything at first.

You sat down at the kitchen table and pulled out your phone. A stack of voicemails and messages had piled up, still buzzing in the background. The world was catching up to what had just happened — the Void, Val’s PR machine spinning headlines while you were still scrubbing concrete dust out of your hair.

You answered M’Baku first, then Shuri, then Ross. But your eyes kept drifting to the photos, the jacket, the battered mug with the chipped rim that you used to have your coffee in, no matter how much it leaked.

Bucky stayed quiet. 

He didn’t hover. Just leaned against the counter with a mug in his hand that had long since gone cold.

When you finally finished the last call, you let out a deep breath. Your fingers tightened around the edge of the table. Then, you looked at him. “Rent control, huh?” you raised an eyebrow.

He blinked, looking down to his feet.

“You’re full of shit,” you added, gentler this time.

And Bucky chuckled his first real laugh since your reunion. He dropped his head for a second, shaking it slowly. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess I am.”

He stepped a little closer, leaning one hand on the table across from you. His other hand hovered, like he wanted to reach out but didn’t want to break whatever fragile platform you were both standing on.

“I kept thinking I’d throw it all out,” he said. “That I’d come back one day and finally… take it all down. Pack the clothes. Box up the books and mail them to you. But I never did.”

You looked down at your hands. You could feel his eyes on you.

“I think,” he said, quieter now, “that part of me thought… if I kept it all exactly the same, maybe you’d come back.”

Your throat tightened.

He ran a hand through his hair, his voice rough around the edges. “I don’t know how to do this. I’m not… good at this. At any of it. But I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t want you in my life .”

Silence stretched for a long moment.

Finally, you said, “Shuri told me something the other day.”

Bucky straightened a little.

“She was trying to explain quantum entanglement to me. That even when particles are separated by galaxies, they still feel each other. React to each other. Like distance doesn’t matter. Not really.” You met his eyes. “That’s us, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Bucky gave you a sad smile, “It’s us.”

You looked around the room again.

“I’m not ready,” you said. “I don’t know how to go back to what we were. I don’t even know if we should.”

“I don’t want what we were,” he said, without hesitation. “I want better.”

You studied him. He looked different than the last time you saw him — older, maybe. Not physically. But his eyes were angry. Less anxious.

You nodded. “Slow,” you said. “We take it slow.”

He looked… relieved. 

He didn’t step closer. He didn’t grab you or kiss you or make some grand statement. Instead, he reached out and gently rested two fingers against the back of your hand, just enough to feel you there.

“Okay,” he said.

And somehow, it was enough.

Not everything was fixed, but for the first time in a long time, you had him back in your life. —

You didn’t know what you expected when you landed in Wakanda. Maybe M’Baku would challenge you to one final sparring match and attempt to win the truth out of you with his bare hands. Maybe Shuri would yell. Maybe Okoye would look at you like a traitor.

But no one raised their voice, and that almost made it worse.

The throne room was still. M’Baku stood tall with his arms crossed. As you stepped forward, you tried to square your shoulders, trying to find the version of yourself that had once stood tall here— not as a visitor, not as a liability, but as someone who helped this nation rebuild from the blip, from the loss of their king, from the loss of their queen.

But your throat was dry. Your heartbeat thrummed in your chest. “I came to explain,” you said, voice thinner than you’d hoped.

“You do not need to,” M’Baku replied, his voice grave but not unkind.

You stopped, stunned by how final he sounded.

He descended the steps from the throne, each footfall echoing through the vibranium coated walls. “I regret to inform you that your contract with Wakanda is terminated,” he said. “Effective immediately.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he lifted a hand before you could speak.

“You are now aligned with the New Avengers,” he said, reciting an uncomfortable truth. “You report to the CIA’s director. Your loyalties have shifted—by necessity, perhaps, but shifted nonetheless. Wakanda cannot afford blurred lines.”

Fuck. 

“I didn’t ask for the public announcement,” you said as a last line of defence. “Valentina made that move without consulting anyone.”

“And yet the world knows,” M’Baku answered. “Perception, as you know, is reality. The eyes of the world are on you now. And those eyes inevitably turn toward Wakanda.”

You lowered your gaze, heart dropping in your chest. “I understand.”

“But…” he continued, “I want you to know that you were never just a contract to us.”

When he stepped closer, his stance shifted. He wasn’t Wakanda’s king now. He was M’Baku— your sparring partner, your most stubborn friend, the man who once cracked your rib in training and called it ‘bonding.’

“You were family,” he said quietly. “You annoyed me more than any outsider I’ve ever met, and I will miss that more than you can imagine.”

Before you could speak, he pulled you into his arms and… hugged you.

You held onto him—tighter than you meant to. You didn’t want to let go. Wakanda had been more than a mission or a job. It had been your home. It was the place that gave you purpose when the rest of the world had hunted you. And now, with a few words and a king’s goodbye, it was slipping through your fingers.

“You’ll be alright, sister,” he reassured, voice. “You always land on your feet.” He pulled back just enough to smirk. “Like a very ugly cat with no grace.”

You laughed. Or maybe you cried. You weren’t sure.

—

Outside the throne room, Shuri was waiting.

She stood like she’d been pacing with her eyes trained on the floor— but when you appeared, her head snapped up. Okoye was beside her, and even her usual perfect posture had softened.

“I’m sorry,” Shuri said the moment your eyes met, brittle at the edges. “For giving Bucky your location.”

You let out a deep breath and a sad smile ghosted across your face. “Don’t be.”

“He said there was a threat,” she shook her head, stepping closer. “And he wasn’t wrong. But I didn’t know it would end…. like this. I thought I was helping.” Her voice broke slightly. “I thought I was giving you back something you’d lost.”

You shook your head. “You weren’t wrong.”

She didn’t look at all startled by that— as if she knew whatever hole had been carved into you by the loss of Wakanda had immediately been filled by Bucky coming back into your life, by the rest of the team that you found. 

“Every time I hit a wall,” you said, just above a whisper. “I throw myself into work and pretend I don’t need anyone.” Your voice cracked open without permission like a dam that had held too long.

“But maybe…” You glanced down, then up at her. “Maybe it’s time I stop pushing away the people who love me. Maybe it’s time I meet them halfway and let them care for me.” You took her hand, “like you do.”

Shuri stared at you like sunlight through storm clouds— equal parts pride and heartbreak.

“Bucky cares,” she said. “Do not let each other slip away this time.”

You swallowed hard.

Okoye, always watching, always knowing, stepped forward.

“He is better,” she said, almost approvingly. “He has learned how to breathe without you. Perhaps it is precisely the reason you need him again. And he might just remind you that life is not all about survival and contracts— it is meant to be lived.”

You tried to blink away the sudden sting in your eyes. “Okoye…” you managed.

She raised a finger in warning. “Do not make me cry, girl.”

That startled a snorting laugh from Shuri.

You smiled. Just a little.

—

Two days later, Bucky helped you move into Avengers Tower.

He smiled sadly when he spotted your duffel bag on the curb beside a single, battered box.

“That’s it?” he asked, easily lifting the box labeled in your unmistakable handwriting: SENTIMENTAL SHIT.

You raised an eyebrow. “You expected me to have more emotional baggage?”

He let out a small laugh, missing your sense of humour. “I meant literal baggage. But…” he glanced down at the label, the corner of his mouth twitching, “…noted.”

You fell into step beside him, entering the still-mostly-empty tower. The echo of your footsteps followed you down halls that smelled like fresh paint and industrial cleaner. A few rooms were already occupied—Bob’s, Ava’s, and an unnamed office space—but yours was at the far end of the residential floor: a bit secluded, sunlit, and overlooking New York in a way that felt almost too generous.

You dropped your duffel onto the bed with a sigh. He set the box on the desk and stood back, studying in the space like he was mentally filing it away for future reference.

“You alright?” he asked softly.

You shrugged, arms crossing out of reflex. “I guess. Feels… weird.”

“What does?”

“Living out of Wakanda.” You glanced at him. “It’s even weirder being around you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Friends,” you said, with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “That’s what we are now, right?”

“I guess so.” He gave a gentle laugh, scratching the back of his head. “Friends who know exactly how the other one likes their coffee.”

You smiled for real then. “Friends who have seen each other naked. And cry. And leave.”

His voice was quieter now. “And come back.”

—

Two days later, the tower was silent after midnight.

It didn’t feel like a base yet—more like a draft of a memory— place still deciding what it wanted to be. The lights in the common room were dimmed to an amber gold. Somewhere down the hall, a ventilation unit clicked and sighed like an old house learning how to breathe again.

You couldn’t sleep.

You’d unpacked your bag. Stacked your few books with spines you knew by heart. Hung your jacket on the back of the door and lined up your toiletries with mathematical precision, like symmetry might trick your brain into believing this was home.

But your body didn't buy it yet, So you wandered barefoot down the hallway in an oversized sweatshirt—the same one Bucky had given you all those years ago.

You found him in the common room, curled into one corner of the couch, damp hair curling at the ends from a recent shower and mug of tea cradled between his metal fingers,

He looked up when he saw you. “You too, huh?”

“Sleep is a myth,” you said, plopped onto the cushion beside him. 

He handed you the mug. You didn’t hesitate before sipping— he used to share drinks with you all the time. The tea was warm, chamomile and honey, just the way you used to make it for him when he couldn’t sleep.

You let the heat sink into your palms for a few seconds longer than necessary before handing it back.

“This place is too clean,” you said at last. 

Bucky nodded. “Won’t be for long. Alexei just moved in. Give it two days before something explodes.”

You snorted. “I give it twelve hours.”

That made him laugh, as he leaned his head back against the couch cushion and looked up, like he could see constellations through the ceiling. You looked at him and, for a second, you imagined  you were both back in his hut again, painting stars on the ceiling with glow-in-the-dark stickers and half a bottle of wine.

“Remember that night by the river?” you asked.

His eyes flicked to yours. “The one after T’challa’s birthday dinner?”

You smiled. “Yeah. We dragged the blankets out and tried to sleep under the open sky. You brought out your old army jacket. I stole your pillow.”

He didn’t say anything for a second. Slowly, he reached out, brushing his fingertips across yours. 

—

The next few months passed easily.

You and Bucky slipped back into some old habits. Mornings were for training. Afternoons often ended in sparring sessions and conversation. And in the hours in between, you found each other again and again— sometimes late night tea. Sometimes, you'd leave a book by your door. Sometimes, he’d put in your favourite movie after a stressful day. He never made a big deal out of it, and neither did you. It wasn’t discussed. It simply was.

Of course, the team noticed.

Ava, subtle as a brick, started running a betting pool in the group chat on who would initiate getting back together. She never said who the odds favored, but winked at you every time you entered a room with Bucky in tow.

John grumbled about “weird tension” on mission briefings, mostly because he lost his first bet. Even Bob— still learning how to survive in a household of ex-spies, assassins, and super-soldiers—picked up on it. One morning over coffee, he glanced at you, then at Bucky, then said, completely unprompted, “You breathe easier when he’s around.”

You blinked at him, stunned. He just sipped his coffee and went back to his crossword.

But the real kicker came at breakfast, a few weeks later.

You were barely awake, slouched at the long kitchen island in the tower. Bucky sat beside you, reading news with a tablet in hand.

Yelena walked in, grabbed a banana, and without hesitation said, “So. When are you two getting back together?”

You nearly choked on your tea. Bucky froze mid-scroll. You coughed for a solid ten seconds before managing, hoarsely, “I—what?”

Yelena leaned on the counter. “Please. The movie nights? The sparring together all the time? You are basically together.”

Bucky cleared his throat. “We’re… talking. Taking it slow.”

Yelena squinted at him like he was the world’s worst liar. “Slow like friends slow, or slow like ‘you slept in her room after the Prague mission and thought no one noticed’ slow?”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. Bucky stared at the ceiling like he was considering defenestration.

“I—I didn’t—we didn’t—” you stammered.

“She had a nightmare,” Bucky said valiantly. “I stayed in her armchair.”

Yelena raised her eyebrows. “How noble. You’ll be married by June.”

And with that, she bit into her banana and walked out as if she hadn’t just casually set your entire life on fire before 8 a.m.

You stared at the doorway for a long time before turning to Bucky. “We are never living that down.”

He smiled, just a little. “She’s not wrong, though.”

You tilted your head. “About what?”

He shrugged. “About the slow part not really being all that slow anymore.”

That shut you up, but not in a bad way.

—

The day it had finally happened, though, you’d been in the tower’s comms room, backlit by flickering screens, teeth clenched as you watched the mission feed buffer and skip. Bucky and John were on the field on recon and containment. It should be routine. No reason to worry.

You told yourself it was fine. You knew Bucky could handle himself. You’d said it a hundred times.

But then the feed glitched again. Then John mentioned gunfire and Bucky’s comms went dark.

The jet returned fifteen minutes later, skidding onto the landing pad. You were already waiting there when they brought him in.

Bucky.

His combat suit was torn, blood soaking through the thigh, gashes deep in his side. His vibranium arm was scorched, still hissing faintly from an energy blast. And yet… he was awake. Breathing. He gave you a small smile, somehow, even when the poor nurse wheeled him into the med bay. You ran to follow

He could’ve died. And you weren’t there.

That’s when you saw John.

“You were supposed to watch his six!” you shouted at him before you could even register how much you meant them. “Do you even know what a field partner does, or do you just wing it and hope the super soldiers heal fast enough?”

John blinked, surprised. “Jesus, I didn’t—”

“Don’t!” you snapped. “You were with him! He had your back—where the hell were you?”

“He told me to take the high ground!” John barked, his voice rising. “I didn’t know they had long-range fire!”

“It’s literally your job to know!” Your skin felt like they were on fire now. “Do you even remember the brief? You think because he’s got the Hydra serum he can take every shot for you?”

“Hey.”You heard Bucky say from the bed behind you. “Relax.”

Your head snapped toward him. “Relax?”

He half-winced as a doctor pulled a bullet fragment from his thigh. His breathing was shallow, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward in dry amusement

“Yeah. Relax. You’re doing that thing.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What thing?”

“You sound like me back in the day,” he managed to say, letting his head fall back on the pillow. “God. The role reversal’s kinda scary.”

And just like that, you shut up.

He did used to do this. When you were still together. When it was you on the field and him pacing the halls of the palace like a caged wolf. Every bruise you got, he catalogued. Every mission report, he read twice. When you brushed off injuries, he’d pull you aside and look at you like you'd died and no one told him.

And now here you were, standing over him, boiling over like your heart had been under for years.

“It’s different,” you whispered under your breath. “You were obsessed.”

Bucky opened his eyes again, squinting slightly. “What?”

You could hear the beeping of monitors overwhelming you. You could taste the metallic tang of blood and antiseptic. “You were obsessed,” you said, a bit louder, “I’m freaking out over bullets. You used to freak out over a scratch.”

He gave a nod, not flinching. “Yeah. I know.” He shrugged. “Wasn’t healthy. But I cared.” But then his tone shifted. “And you don’t get to talk to John like that.”

You took a step back, caught off-guard. “Are you serious?”

“He’s not perfect,” he said, matter-of-fact.

“Wow,” John interjected under his breath, “Thanks.” 

Bucky paid him no mind “But he tried. This wasn’t on him.”

You pressed your fingers into your temple, trying to breathe. “I know, I just—I didn’t know what else to do, Buck.”

You looked at him then, and all the fire in your chest dimmed into ash. He looked… tired. Older. Stronger, too. But there was something in his eyes—some flicker of the man you left behind. 

Bucky glanced toward John. “Give us the room when they’re done, yeah?”

John, for once, didn’t argue. He just nodded and backed out, probably relieved.

The door shut with a hiss, and you waited until the doctors had finished stitching him up and giving him the okay to rest before you walked back to his side, a little more tired, a little more human.

You sat on the edge of the bed. Your hand found his immediately, as if it was instinct. His skin was warm and he smelled like bullets and iron, the way it always got when he’d been running on too much adrenaline and too little self-preservation.

“Is this okay?” you asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

He nodded before reaching for you with both hands in that familiar, greedy way he always used to, like he couldn't stand another second without you touching. “C’mere,” he said.

So you climbed carefully onto the too-small mattress beside him, your body curving into his like muscle memory. You avoided the bruised side, settling in close with your head tucked beneath his chin, just where it used to belong. His wrapped his arm around you.

Your palm rested over his chest, right above his heart. It beat steady, and you wondered if it ever really stopped beating for you.

He breathed in your hair. "You always smell like home," he whispered, so quiet you almost missed it.

You watched the little cuts and bruises heal on their own, bit by bit. His lashes fluttered like he was teetering on the edge of sleep — then opened again, just to make sure you were still there.

You stayed tucked beneath his chin for a long while. Eventually, you spoke, your voice muffled into his chest. “I didn’t mean to scream at Walker,” you said with a small laugh. “Or be… so overbearing. Like you used to be.” You peeked up at him with a sideways smile. “Funny, right?”

Bucky chuckled. “I deserved that,” he smiled, rubbing slow circles against your back with his human thumb

You swallowed, then pulled away just enough to look at him properly.

“I just…” You hesitated, choosing your words carefully, like they mattered. Because they did. “For the first time in a long time, work isn’t the most important thing to me.” You reached up and gently brushed your fingers along the edge of the bruise on his cheeks. “You are.”

“I know,” he said, voice rough. “And I… I just wanted you to know I never stop caring — just didn’t know how to care right.”

You both laughed a little at that — sad and sweet, like the punchline to a very old joke.

“Remember that time you hacked into a satellite feed because I missed one check-in?” you teased, smirking.

Bucky groaned, his cheeks turning pink. “Okay, first of all, it was a tactical recon satellite, I didn’t hack it, I borrowed a login.”

“Oh, that makes it better,” you said, eyes sparkling. “You bribed M’Baku with a reservation at a two Michelin Star vegan restaurant just because I didn’t text ‘safe’ fast enough.”

“I was worried,” he shook his head, then, quieter, “You didn’t answer for four hours.”

“I know,” Your brows relaxed again. “I know you were trying to love me. I just… couldn’t let myself be loved like that back then.”

Bucky reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you now?”

You smiled, eyes filling up with a puddle of tears.“Well,” you said, voice a little wobbly, “Only if we meet halfway.”

He smiled, and god, it was like the sun rose just for you.

“Okay,” he agreed, leaning in until you could taste the air he breathed.

Just before your lips touched, he stopped. “You sure?” he asked, looking down at your lips.

Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it through your chest.

You nodded. “I’m sure.”

He didn’t move yet.

“You sure you’re sure?” he whispered, voice lower now. His fingers had tightened just slightly at your waist, anchoring you there,but he just needed to give you one last chance to run — but you didn’t take it.

“Bucky…” you whispered, and the way you said his name answered everything for him.

“Okay,” he said, more a sigh than a word. “Okay.”

Then he kissed you.

It was heat and hunger that only two people who had been starved of each other, who’d tasted what it was like to be apart and never wanted to go back could feel. His mouth claimed yours like he needed to make sure you were his and you kissed him back just as fiercely, just as desperate to prove that you were.

You curled your fingers into the collar of his tac vest, pulling him closer, and he groaned against your lips. His metal hand slid up your back, and his other hand cupped your cheek and pulled you closer

And he kept saying it between kisses, like a litany, “You’re sure?”

You answered with another kiss. Deeper now, borderline bruising.

“You’re sure?” he asked again

“I’m sure.” Your lips parted on a gasp, and you nodded, forehead pressed to his. “I’m so sure, Buck, I— I never stopped—”

His mouth was on yours again before you could finish, and it didn’t matter. His thumb traced your cheek like he was re-learning you all over again, when he realized he still remembered all the ways you liked to be kissed. When you finally pulled back, breathless, he looked at you like you’ve been to hell and back for him.

“God, I missed this,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I missed you so bad, doll.”

You smiled, blinking back the tears that weren’t sad at all. “I missed you worse.”

He grinned, all wrecked and completely in love.

You kissed again, gentler this time, remembering how good it felt to be known by each other again.

Which was exactly when the door slid open with a cheerful whoosh.

“—Bucky! I was gonna check on—oh,” came Alexei’s voice, suddenly flat as pancake batter left too long on the griddle.

You froze, lips still an inch from Bucky’s. Your heart leapt straight into your throat, and you turned slowly toward the door, horror across both your faces.

Alexei stood there, blinking once, before giving the slowest nod known to man. His hands were crossed on his chest, looking too smug for his own good.

“Well,” he said, dragging his voice out. “Well. I’m going to tell team it finally happened!”

Bucky let out the deepest, most resigned sigh imaginable and let his head thunk back against the pillow. “Can you please wait until I’m discharged?”

“Nonsense!” Alexei said brightly, already halfway down the hallway. “Ava owes me twenty American dollars. And John will make that face. You know the one.”

You groaned and buried your face in Bucky’s chest, playfully mortified. 

“Back then,” he chuckled, lips brushing your hair, “I would've fought him for interrupting.”

You peeked up at him, “And now?”

He smiled. “Now I’m just glad you’re here.”

-end.

[saved-fanfiction]

Civilian X being promoted(force) to be a Manager for the new rising Hero and that hero is YOU!

Imagine Reader who is a hero at FOMO and your manager is Civilian X(it's either you have a crush or him or he have a crush on you or unknowingly and silently pinning each other)anyway-

Imagine X being extremely tired cause he have to juggle being your manager and Hero X and maintaining a professional dynamic (which both of you failing miserably)

Hero X couldn't hold back teasing/flirting with you, some certain people saw it and began to ship you two, congratulations! You're now in a similar position as Moon with OG!Nice

More stress and work for X! Not so yay for him

But he can spend more time with you! Yay!

Not yay for you cause now you're a target("fuck!" - X) and and an accessory rather than a person("fuck the Trust Value System" - You)

Hero X try his freaking best to at lest a decent relationship/friendship/whatever the fuck is actually happening at this point with you

While his Civilian side is trying to maintain a professional dynamic and not be romantic with you(which is hell for him)

Unlike his hero counterpart, his civilian side is more closer to you(he's really glad to have been offerforce this position despite the extra overtime & underpaid) but both of you couldn't really make a move despite how fucking obvious your feelings for each other cause;

1. Imbalance power dynamic in workplace

2. Your status as 'Hero X' girl/boyfriend

3. Scandal that will destroy you

He may or may not will reveal his identity as Hero X cause fucking damn it, his really desperate to have you and have a relationship

"..... Ok" , ok? OK?!? That's your response to his grand reveal!?

Well that was less dramatic from what he was expecting but at least your but your honestly mostly emotionally drain from everything

But hey! Your mental state start to improve again after that reveal, a few burden lifted from your shoulder

relationship start to improve, right? Kinda

It was hard at first to be romantic with his civilian side cause his also your manager but your improving

HOWEVER–

X trying so hard not to flirt or be lovey dovey with you when his Civilian X, keeping up the professional act his so hard for him when he can just hug you from behind and nuzzles his face in your neck and inhaling your scent–

Ok that enough! Anyway

Be expected to be love bomb when his Hero X

Constant flirting, expensive gifts, and many date night as much as possible

Sometimes he can't help but look stupidity giggely as he draft a "prefect date" as your manager before submitting it to other higher ups

If those plans are rejected, "Screw those people" he said and proceed to take you on his prefect date

It just honestly got more chaotic cause X loves to be a menace sometimes just to have moments with you

And your honestly baffle how his Civilian Persona haven't been in trouble cause his suppose to be managing you

Key word "managing you" not Hero X, he said once to you

He may or may not have use his position and fame to get what he wants without causing his Civilian Persona too much trouble and have more lovely moments with you

Honestly don't know where I'm going with this, I just want to make a Hero X x Reader content and this is what my brain throw at me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[saved-fanfiction]

👀 if its okay with you, could I request some smut of Law x reader who had long ago said if he needed he could fool around while they are asleep? Like him coming to bed late and just boom! Suddenly horny seeing his lover sleeping in his bed in his old yellow hoodie.

I am high key feral for this man 🥵

Yellow hoodie

Part 1 - Part 2

trafalgar law x reader

contents: established relationship. this is written with law’s POV, even though he’s still referred to in the 3rd person. law (drunk) sees reader (drunk) asleep in his hoodie and goes feral. reader wakes up. mostly rough, but with soft moments

warnings: dub-con (drunk sex, somnophilia), rough sex, multiple orgasms (reader), overstimulation, some fear play (law gets aroused when reader is in shock), slight pain in the beginning (reader), unprotected sex – it's mentioned that reader has a safe word, but it isn’t used – reader is mostly GN, but has a vagina

a/n: i had a blast writing this, as I am also high key feral for this man. hope i didn’t go too off the rails. the words just wouldn’t stop. it's long bc i used the beginning for a drunk sex fic i had planned but never finished. also i hope it's ok that reader wakes up. happy reading, i hope you enjoy <3 :D

word count: 2.753

There’s something very soft about Law when he’s drunk. The usual sharp glares smoothed down into something far more tender. His gaze directed only at you. And try as he might – he’s clearly trying his best – he can’t quite stop himself from looking a little love-drunk whenever you’re around.

He’s all slow blinks and ruffled hair, undeniably cute. And that’s exactly how he looks as he enters through the door of your shared bedroom.

It’s Friday, meaning the crew are having a few drinks to wind down from the week. Law always joins them. Not out of free will, of course; he just happens to be the only crew member for whom attendance is mandatory.

Some time ago, the crew had reached an agreement with Law about needing to attend a certain number of social gatherings, including friday drinks, holidays, and birthday celebrations. It even means that Law has to attend his own birthday, much to his dismay.

Law, being the way he is, and dealing with a heap of trauma, tends to shut himself off in his office to drown himself in work. He does so even more when his mental health spirals, making his depressive episodes completely unforeseeable and unmanageable. His friends have found that the most effective method of preventing them is to make sure he has regular social interactions to force his attention onto something else.

Law obviously finds this arrangement stupid, but the effect is undeniable. He will begrudgingly show up at 7 on the dot, have a few drinks, loosen up a little – sometimes going so far as to even smile – and then be tipsy enough to go straight to bed upon returning. It has the added benefit of making him sleep in on Saturdays, much to your delight, as it means morning cuddles.

So, as much as he tries to fight it, the rule stays. It really does do wonders for his mental health, which is apparent from the way he’s standing by the door, a little drunk, and clearly in a good mood.

But his good mood turns into something… else when he sees you. There you are, fast asleep in his bed, huddled up to escape the biting cold of the metal sub. The Polar Tang is submerged, letting very little light into the room, but Law can still make out the top of your head peeking out from under the blanket.

He hadn’t felt it before, too focused on making conversation with the crew. But now that he’s alone with you in the room, with nothing but your soft breathing and the fuzziness in his head, he feels that familiar pull in the pit of his stomach telling him he’s getting aroused.

Just as he’s about to tell himself to wait for morning, he remembers a conversation the two of you had some months ago. You had somehow gotten onto the topic of sex, sharing kinks and personal fantasies. Law distinctly remembers you saying you’d be ok with him doing things in your sleep. He was a little taken aback at the time but suddenly feels himself growing very fond of the idea.

He only stands still for a few more seconds before jumping into action. Eyes never leaving you, he hurries over to the bed as quietly as possible while taking off his clothes. He slides under the covers behind you; very carefully, so as not to wake you. The alcohol is getting to his head a little, but what really gets him riled up is the fact that you’re wearing his old yellow hoodie for extra warmth.

He lets out a quiet “fuck” when he sees it, and feels himself grow painfully hard. You’re not usually a heavy sleeper, but the alcohol must have gotten to you, too, seeing as you would normally wake up from his movements. He still decides to use his devil fruit powers to take off your clothes, though. Just in case. He wants to savour this. Having you completely defenceless under him.

With a flick of Law’s hand, you’re left in nothing but his yellow hoodie, and it’s taking everything in him to remain in control of himself. He gently moves his body closer to yours, willing himself to take his time. Telling himself that it’ll be more than worth it.

When his back is pressed completely to yours, Law wraps his free arm around your front and moves it down to your core. He almost lets out a groan when his fingers are met with wetness; but manages to catch himself just in time.

Law can’t remember the last time he’s been this nervous about something. His heart is hammering so loud he’s afraid you might wake up from the sound alone. But he simply needs to see your reaction to being woken up stuffed full of him. So, although he wants nothing more than to shove himself inside you right now, Law decides to be patient for a moment longer. He skilfully finds your clit and rubs his fingers over it a few times, testing the waters of how far he could go with you like this.

He freezes when you let out a little noise and shift a bit, but it seems his actions aren’t enough to wake you just yet. With this, he decides not to push it further.

Law grabs his cock – throbbing with need, and rock hard – and aligns it with your soaking entrance.

He slides it in. Fast. Before you get the chance to stop him.

When you wake up, he’s already buried deep. Almost down to the base. The sudden intrusion making you clamp down so hard that it’s impossible for him to move any further. You squeak in surprise as you wake up, and the need inside him grows impossibly strong at the way your body jolts in alarm. He lets out a low groan of pleasure, trying not to get too lost in it just yet.

“Shhh, baby. It’s ok, it’s just me.” He shushes you, knowing this is probably quite a shock to you, despite having technically agreed to it beforehand.

“L- Law?” Your voice is a quiet whimper, and he can feel how scared you are. He feels bad for you, but the sound makes his cock twitch, and that’s currently the part of his body that has the most executive power.

“Yes, y/n, it’s me. Can you breathe for me, baby?”

He feels you suck in a shaking breath that you clearly didn’t realize you were holding, and your body relaxes slightly beneath his. He takes this as his opportunity to push himself even further inside your tight heat, making you let out another helpless whine.

His hand moves to your hip, thumb caressing your skin in soothing circles. It has the added benefit of keeping you in place, as he can feel you try to squirm away from the brutal intrusion.

“Go back to sleep, y/n. Let me use you a little, yeah?”

“O- ok.” Your body relaxes a little further into the mattress, but he knows you aren’t sleeping. Just tired, and very disoriented.  

“Fuck, you’re being so good f’me.”

When Law feels you squirming less, he lets go of your hip, burying his large, tattooed hand under the yellow sweatshirt that you’re still wearing. Snaking it around your middle to rest between where your ribs meet the bed, pulling you into him tightly.

Law rocks his hips into yours, slow at first, but quickly starts to thrust a little deeper when he no longer sees any traces of pain or fear on your face.

He keeps kneading your insides to accommodate him. Pushing himself in and out of your tight hole, while watching the look on your face slowly turn from one of utter confusion into pure bliss.

And fuck, he loves it.

There’s something about your expression that completely enraptures him. Your mouth hangs slightly open. Only closing to bite your lower lip when he forces a particularly deep thrust into you. The way your eyes are still a little unfocused from a mix of drowsiness, alcohol, and undeniable pleasure. Your eyebrows – restless – tense every time he bottoms out, easing slightly when he pulls back.

It's adorable.

He could stare at you like this for hours, closely studying every detail and movement of your face. Every subtle change in expression from how his actions affect you. But he’s snapped out of it when you give a high pitched yelp and start gushing around him, shaking in his tight embrace.

Law can only watch in awe as your body tenses beneath his. Reeling from the way your tight pussy spasms around his fat length. As you lose control of your limbs. Of your voice.

Did you really just cum? Already?

It’s only been a few minutes. Law is so taken aback that he almost forgets to keep fucking you through your high. But there isn’t much of an interruption. His hips started moving on autopilot the second he felt you clamping down on his cock.

He recovers quickly.

“Fuck, you like this more than you were letting on.” You can’t see it, as you’re facing away from him, but a devilish smirk spreads across your boyfriend’s face. He hears you let out a little whine, your hand coming up behind you to pathetically push at his hips.

“Aww, you need a break?” He coos, mocking you.

When he sees your tiny, pathetic nod, Law decides to have mercy on you. For now. Although you aren’t using your safe word, he knows this must be a lot for you, and is a little worried you might have forgotten it in the confusion.

So, he compromises by stilling his hips; but doesn’t pull out of you just yet.

“Hey, y/n. You alright?” His voice is still soft, but more serious this time, lightly nudging your head with the arm supporting it. He wants to show you he expects an answer and isn’t just teasing.

You slowly look up at him, and he almost melts from the expression on your face. You’re still glassy-eyed, clearly a little discoordinated, and panting hard. But you nod at his question, and he doesn’t miss the subtle way in which your mouth turns up into a weak – but very pleased – smile.

“Ok, good. Just making sure.” And he starts pressing kisses to your face and neck, partly to reassure you, partly to distract himself from the sudden urge to violently rut into you again. His hand, still under your side, caresses your heaving chest in lazy circles.

It’s only when you let out a satisfied, breathy giggle that he notices his actions. They aren’t purposeful, but your reaction makes him realize that you aren’t the only one who’s completely fucked out. Law is whipped.

He grumbles slightly. It must be the alcohol. He thinks, trying to find any explanation at all for his uncharacteristically lovey state. But he knows damn well it isn’t the alcohol making him grin back at you when you give him a dopey smile.

To compensate, he gives you a hard thrust that he knows must have punched you right in the cervix, judging by how your mouth is ripped open in a silent scream.

“Break’s over.” That’s all the warning you get.

With that, Law starts back up into a brutal pace, even rougher than before. He watches your eyes snap wide open again, and pulls you tighter against his chest. Knowing you’re about to try wriggling free from the overstimulation.

His fingers find your nipple this time, rubbing it in almost soothing motions that contrast greatly with everything else he’s doing to your poor, exhausted body.

Law keeps fucking you like this for a while, simply enjoying the moment through the fuzziness in his head. Both of you are completely delirious from alcohol, pleasure, and in your case, sleep.

The room is filled with sounds; harsh snaps of skin against skin, heavy breathing, blankets rustling, and your exhausted, broken whines drowning it all out. But it doesn’t feel loud to either of you, too lost in the moment to register anything beyond the sensations running wild in your bodies.

When you eventually try pushing away from him again, Law is prepared. Lifting the forearm resting under your head, he traps your neck behind it, forcing your shoulders to press into his chest. He isn’t applying pressure, only doing enough to keep you in place while his other hand roughly grips the soft plush of your belly.

Your back is arching from the pleasure, but unable to move further with your head and hips anchored to Law’s much larger torso.

It doesn’t take long before you start squirming in that specific way that tells Law you’re on the verge of another orgasm. He’s determined to push you over the edge one more time before reaching his own high, which is also fast approaching.

So, as much as he loves resting his hand on your soft stomach, he moves his fingers further down to once again attach themselves to your clit, rubbing it in messy circles.

The effect is immediate.

Although Law has barely touched you, you’re violently coming apart for the second time that night. He keeps snapping his hips into your soft ass, completely entranced at the sight before him. There’s something mesmerizing in how you helplessly writhe and squirm in his hold. Combined with the feeling of you desperately trying to clamp down on his cock that already has you stretched so wide, he knows he isn’t going to last much longer.

Trying to hold on as much as possible, he focuses on continuing his movements on your body, but it’s no use. The sight of your vulnerable form struggling underneath him with agonizing pleasure is simply too much. He sees your eyes roll into the back of your head before closing his own. Letting the high overtake him.

Law’s pace speeds up even faster than before as he tumbles over the edge. He keeps a searing grip on your hip again, keeping you firmly in place as he rides out his high.

It feels like flying and falling at the same time. He is fully aware of every nerve in his body, and at the same time too blissed out to fully register anything that’s happening.

Time seems to stand still. Or maybe it speeds up.

It’s impossible to tell, because his brain is not working like usual. The white-hot pleasure is coursing through his body like fire in his veins, shutting out all common sense. All he can do is to let himself enjoy it.

When he opens his eyes and slows down again – whether it’s been years or mere seconds, he doesn’t know – Law finally feels the exhaustion overtaking him.

His body is heavy against the mattress, and he can feel you trembling beneath him ever so slightly, which is what fully snaps him back to reality.

“Hey, y/n. Baby, are you ok?”

His hand is on your shoulder now, nudging it as gently as he can with the way his body isn’t fully back under his control yet.

“Yeah.” It’s very quiet. So quiet he would have missed it had he not seen your lips move. “I’m good.” You even smile weakly, but he can tell that it’s genuine.

He slumps down on his back in relief, a contented sigh escaping him. “Good. I was afraid it was too much for a sec.” But he can hear your breathing slowly even out, becoming deep and steady. And he knows you must have fallen asleep again.

The tiredness is overcoming him as well, impossible to escape, especially with the sense of profound relaxation that always remains after an intense orgasm. Every cell in his body feels tired, and the remaining fuzziness from the alcohol makes it impossible to resist sinking into the mattress.

…

Law doesn’t know how long he dozed off for. He jolts awake, sitting bolt upright, and looks over to your still sleeping form. He scrambles off the bed and picks you up despite how peaceful you look. He has more important things to worry about.

He doesn’t want to disturb your sleep a second time, but when Law is neither drunk, aroused, or angry, the only thing that remains is pure doctor. He carries you off to the bathroom, all while scolding you, even though he knows you’re too far gone to hear him.

“Y/n. You have to remember to pee after sex!”

thank you for reading!! I really hope you liked it <3<3 sorry the title is so rushed again, i literally always forget to think of one until the last second

(Dividers made by me)

(This is my fic, don't repost or use in any AI training programmes! Reblogs are always appreciated <3) Here are my rules, and my masterlist.

Part 1 - Part 2

[saved-fanfiction]

Show Me

Summary: Jonathan comes home early from work and finds you in a way he never would have anticipated.

Content: female reader, JJBA part 1 (no spoilers), married, use of the title husband, reader referred to as Lady Joestar once, use of pet names (my love, my heart, darling, etc.), masturbation, being caught masturbating, fingering, being taught how to finger/touch clit, slight overstim

Word Count: 3K

A/N: So I had this idea the other day and I had to write it cause Jonathan--UGH I love him so like yessss. This is my first time writing for Jonathan so I hope I did him justice! I hope you all enjoy!

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Jonathan was ecstatic when he was able to come home early from work. All he had wanted to do, all he had been able to think about, was being back by your side. Being able to see you smile, hear your laugh, talk with you. 

So when he couldn’t find you in the library where he would typically find you with your latest read, he grew a tad bit antsy. He looked in the dining room, the study, and even asked one of the staff if they had seen where you had gone off to, but you were still nowhere to be found. 

Before he grew too frantic, he decided to check the bedroom. Maybe you had come down with a painful headache that only a good nap could cure.

He wound his way up the stairs, down the hall, and pushed open the door to your shared bed chambers only to be met with a sight he never could have anticipated. 

You lay there on the plush cushions, eyes hooded and fogged, mouth agape, and legs spread to the world as your fingers lay buried within your core, working yourself in a way that filled the room with slick, squelching sounds. 

Jonathan’s mouth fell open at the sight, you gasping sharply in utter surprise at his appearance. 

“You--You are home early.” You rushed out of bed, pulling your robe tightly around your sweat-pebbled skin. 

“I--yes, well I--” He continued to watch you wide-eyed as you fought not to break down from embarrassment. He was quick to shut the door behind him. “W-what were you doing?” 

“Nothing.” You tried brushing off, heading for the dressing screen across the room. You kept your gaze downcast as you made to pass in front of him. “Forgive me for--” Jonathan stopped your travel by grabbing your arm in a delicate grip. A grip so gentle you were always surprised by it, seeing as he was such a hulking man. 

“I--wait a moment. Let us talk.”

“Jonathan…I am ashamed you found me in that way. I do not--”

“Ashamed?” He sounded all too confused as to why you would feel that way. A confusion that finally had you turning your gaze to meet his own. A gaze always so full of understanding and kindness, things you felt you didn’t always deserve. “Darling it is just me. Not only am I your husband, but your friend.” You’re heart fluttered at those words. 

Yes. Yes, Jonathan Joestar was your friend. Your best friend and to hear him continue to confirm that just made you fall in love all over again. 

“I just--I know what you were doing…I will admit I’ve done…similar acts…before our marriage.” He gave a slight wince at his words, a small blush crossing over his cheeks. 

These topics were not something talked about so…openly. Both within respectable society and between you two. 

You were completely stunned that he would wish to talk to you about it, especially seeing as your husband was always quick to grow very timid about the subject.

“But I--I wish to know why. Are you not…satisfied with our…intimacy?” Your heart twisted painfully in your chest at his words. That you would lead him to believe such things. You were quick to raise your left hand to cup his flushed cheek in your palm, to try and ease his worries if only for a moment.

“Do not think for one second longer that I do not love being that close to you.” Jonathan leaned into your touch, his other hand engulfing it to keep your touch close. 

“But?” You turned your gaze downwards again, your heart once more twisting. Your husband said your name softly. “I do not wish for you to go on not feeling as good as I when we are intimate.” He guided your palm downward so he could lay a loving kiss to its heel.

“It’s just…I do feel good but it is like there is an…itch, I suppose, that never quite gets scratched so…I scratch it myself.” You cringed at your own words and at yourself for making him feel bad about something you had been perfectly fine to keep to yourself until now. 

“I see…” Again, you felt like your heart might tear in two. Did he despise you for speaking the truth? Did he wish to spend time apart after witnessing you in such a way? 

“I am sorry, my love. I truly did not want you to see--”

“Show me.” Your mouth fell open at his words.

“W-what?” 

“Show me how I can…scratch the itch for you.” You blinked up at him.

And blinked again. 

And again. 

He was dead serious about this request. A request you could see in his eyes he was not going to back down from until you agreed to show him. 

“Bu--Jonathan, you truly do not need to worry--”

“Yes, I do. I am your husband. It is my job to worry about you and your needs.” His hands moved down your arms to grab hold of your own, giving them both a solid, unwavering squeeze. He leaned down so that he could peer straight into your eyes to show you just how sincere he was. “My heart, show me please.” 

 You watched him for a moment longer. A moment you used to quickly try to clear your spinning mind. To understand that he was actually asking you this. That he was truly willing to learn such a thing for you. 

You loved him. 

Oh dear god above you loved this man more than you knew what to do with. 

You pulled yourself to your tippy toes so that you might place a tender kiss to his full lips. Jonathan was quick to kiss you right back, making your heart beat quicker and quicker in your chest. 

“O-okay.” You breathed as you pulled away. “Would you…would you mind taking your coat off?” Jonathan was quick to nod, pulling his hands from you only to do as you asked. 

“I will do whatever you ask. I am yours to command.” He pulled his black coat off, laying it along the end of the bed. 

Yours to command. 

Oh dear--that shouldn’t have excited you as much as it did. Shouldn’t have reignited that burning pool of need between your legs. 

“Lord Joestar,” You teased, fingers finding their way to the small buttons of his white dress shirt to fiddle with them in your growing anxiousness. “You give me too much power.” Jonathan’s eyes sparkled in amazement as his large hands grabbed your wrists once more. 

“Lord Joestar? Lord?” He leaned down, planting a kiss on each of your cheeks. “That is Jojo to you.” You laughed as he went for round two of cheek kisses. Kisses that made your heart feel so full and warm it nearly had you forgetting all about the nerves that had wormed their way into your veins. “What next, darling?” 

And nearly forgotten nerves came back in full then.

“Shirt off?”

“How is me taking my shirt off going to help me learn how to--” You pushed up onto your toes again to peck his lips, stopping him from speaking any further. 

“Because I wish to feel your skin on mine.” That blush pulled to his skin but he nodded, unbuttoning his shirt without further question. As he did, you untied your robe once more, shrugging it off and letting the silky fabric pool at your feet. 

Jonathan’s fingers fumbled in their unbuttoning at the re-revealing of your body, blue eyes drinking in every last inch. 

“My heart--I never grow tired of your beauty.” He breathed. 

“And I never grow tired of yours.” You just as softly spoke back, fingers finding his to help him with the rest of his buttons. His blush deepened and he once more leaned down, kissing your forehead. 

Once his shirt joined your robe on the floor, you guided him over to the bed where he was quick to take his shoes off and crawl in after you. 

Your hands roamed over the hard muscles of his chest, feeling over the velvety skin that was interrupted once or twice by a scar he received from one of his adventures. 

You had just pressed your chest against his, had just begun to unlatch his belt when Jonathan’s strong arm grabbed hold of you. A small yelp escaped your lips as he moved you around, having no problems doing so and doing so tenderly. Not once had his supernatural strength harmed you in any way, always moving you with the utmost care. 

“Now, Lady Joestar,” Your husband teased as he sat your back against his chest, holding you warmly in his arms. His nose nuzzled against your ear and cheek, sending your skin burning at such affection. “No more frittering and please show me.” His voice dipped low and sweet. A sound that reverberated through your ear and whole body, causing a shiver to course through you. To make your nipples pebble harder.

“Am not.” Jonathan’s fingers dug into your sides, causing a bubbling laugh to spill from your lips. “S-Stop!” Jonathan chuckled in your ear, stopping his tickling.

“I am serious, love. Please.” He begged once more, fingers moving from your sides to trail up your legs, which you had bent together. His thumbs rubbed over your knees in a silent ask to open them. Your heart gave a panicked skip, your fingers balling into his slacks. “It is just me.” He soothed, kissing your cheek again. 

You nodded. 

Then nodded again before slowly spreading your legs for him. He kissed your cheek again in encouragement. 

“Now…” His voice never rose past that of utter comfort. His hands moved over your legs, which trembled in slight nervousness and anticipation, before finding your hands. 

You allowed him to ease one out of its death grip of his pants leg. Allowed him to guide your hand to lay over your pubic mound, your breath shaky on every exhale.

“Show me?” You swallowed past the dryness in your mouth as you forced yourself into action. As you ran your index finger through your fold to get your finger slick before finding your clit, which throbbed up at for having stopped your earlier ministrations. You’re legs twitched as a jolt of pleasure shot through your belly. 

You began to rub your clit in small circles, keeping your pace even and mostly unchanged. The whole time Jonathan held you close, one hand laying flat on your stomach and the other still holding your wrist loosely.

“Is that…a good spot?” Jonathan asked to which you were quick to nod. 

“Mm-hum. Y-Yes.” He nodded, keeping his cheek against the side of your face, watching your every movement closely. So close like he was studying for an exam--or for battle. You couldn’t decide which one--not when steady pleasure coursed through you. Not when your hips begin to flicker in need to move. In need for more. “Do you--hah--do you want to try?” 

“Yes.” He all but panted. No hesitation filled your ears. No second guessing just pure want to do as you asked. 

You nodded, biting your lips as you gave your clit one last pass, trying to savor the buzz thumbing through your veins before removing your hand. You breathed in deeply, breasts heaving up and down as you found and guided Jonathan’s hand downward. 

He slowly ran his finger through your dripping folds just as you had, his touch making you bite your lip harder. And when he ever so slowly dragged his finger back up, passing just over your clit, your mouth flew open on a gasp, hand grabbing his to guide it right where it need to be. 

“There?” He asked, giving it a small, testing tug that made your hips jut against him. 

“Yes, yes. There. Right there.” You whined only for your whine to deepen to a moan as he began to rub your swollen clit in just the same way he watched you do. It was the same in every last way besides the fact it was his finger and that only made your head spin faster. 

“O-oh my--Nnngh--Jojo.” You grasped for his hand resting on your stomach, interlocking your fingers within his. 

“Is that okay?” He breathly asked, never once stopping his ministrations. Never once changing his pace. Everything stayed just the same and it was going to make you cum before you had even begun. 

“Yes…oh yes.” You held onto his hand for dear life while the other all but claws at his wrist. 

You felt it then--felt Jonathan’s cock stir within his pants against your back. Felt it gradually swell and harden and it only made your skin flash hotter. 

“Your fingers were inside when I walked in.” He whispered in your ear, causing yet another shiver to wreck through your body. “Should I do that too?” You moaned his name, letting your head lull back against his shoulder. 

“Y-yes.” 

“Show me?” He asked and still his finger never stopped moving against your clit.

“You--you’ll do--hhah--you’ll do this.” You managed, pulling your hand from his wrist to hold out your index and middle finger, curling them forward to show him how to touch you. “There--there is--nnugh--another g-good spot. Rougher--huhgh--on top.” You had no clue whether Jonathan could make sense of your jumble of words or not, but he nodded against your sweat-slick skin in understanding. 

“Should I do it now?” No sooner had you nodded than Jonathan suddenly stopped his finger’s movement. An utterly whiny, needy sound pulled from your throat faster than you could stop it. It was a sound you had never once produced in your life and one you felt the slightest bit of embarrassment for being unable to control. It had Jonathan’s body tensing behind you. “Did--did I do something wrong?” 

“No--No just--I need you to touch me. It was--felt so good.” You panted, running your hand up the back of his strong neck to mess with his short-cropped, blue-black hair. 

“Oh.” He simply said. You bit near painfully at your bottom lip when he lifted his hand ever further away from your weeping cunt. Lifted it away when all you wanted was it to be all over you. “And you stopped feeling good when I stopped?” You whined again, hips giving the slightest movement to try and find his hand once more.

“Jojo--are you--are you teasing me?” You turned your head up to look into his blue eyes, finding his face beat red and--was that mischief gleaming in his blue eyes. 

It was! The goof was trying to tease you. 

“Jojo!” You whined, tugging lightly at what little bit of hair you could grab hold of. “You’re being mean.” 

“Forgive me.” He murmured against your cheek. “I just--liked that sound you made.” 

He was trying to end you. 

Trying to get you so flustered you couldn’t even think straight. 

“Jo--” Whatever words you had planned on saying flew out the window when he sunk a thick, long finger into your core. 

He felt your gummy walls flutter and clench around him as you welcomed him in. Watched as your brows furrowed and lips part of a shaky inhale of breath, eyes so blown he thought the beautiful color of your iris would get taken over in your pleasure. 

 Jonathan added his second finger as you instructed, watching your legs spread wider to further suck them in. 

The sight of you like this, body exposed fully to him and bared so wide, was so sinful. A sight he had never thought to see had he not chosen to come home early. 

And how thankful he was of his choice. 

He curled his fingers within your convulsing walls, searching for that spot you had vaguely spoken of. A spot he found just an inch within your warmth that wasn’t so rough as it was ridged. 

You gasped, fingers tightening against his scalp and eyes squeezing shut at the touch. 

“There?” You could hardly form words besides a mewled yes. It was a sound that only further made Jonathan’s cock ache near painfully within the confines of his pants. 

He begins to gradually rub his fingertips against that spot, starting out on a slow, still testing pace. One you needed quickened now. 

“F-faster--please.” Jonathan was more than happy to comply, his quickened space filling the air with those same wet, squelching sounds he had walked in on. Sounds that molded and mixed with your moans and pants like a perfect melody. A melody Jonathan wanted to hear more and more of. One he knew he would be daydreaming about while away from you. 

Your pleasure built and built, warmth spreading from your core and down your thighs in telling of your end. 

“Mmm--Jojo--nngh--I’m--keep doing that. Oh please, please, please keep doing that.” Jonathan nodded, kissing at your earlobe. 

“Yes, love. Of course.” He whispered into your ear as he kept his pace nice and even and pressed oh so snuggly up against that wonderful spot. 

White hot euphoria collected deep within your belly. Euphoria that shot through you fast and had your walls tightening around his fingers in rapid succession. You moaned his name a bit too loudly but you could hardly care, not when you were seeing stars fall behind your eyelids. Not when Jonathan keeps his fingers working within you, guiding you through your finish. 

But as that pleasurable warmth began to fade, Jonathan showed no sign of stopping his fingers. Fingers that worked against your tired walls in a way that was too much and made you squirm in his strong grip around you. 

“Ahnhg--Jojo--Jojo you can st-stop.” 

“Oh--sorry.” He breathed, stopping his movement. “Did I…scratch your itch.” He asked while nuzzling his face into your neck. You gave a sigh in your utter satisfaction, running your fingers up and down his neck. 

“Yes. Oh yes. Very much.” You felt him smile into your hot skin before laying a kiss there. “Now,” You started once you’re breath had evened out some. You moved around so you could face your husband and look over his too-handsome face. “How about I scratch that itch of yours? Hum?” Jonathan’s face flushed beat red all over again and you watched him swallow sharply. 

“O-only if you wish, dear.” You all but smirked at him, brushing your hands over his broad chest. Hands you ran lower and lower until you were tugging lightly at his belt loop. 

“I very much wish to, my love.”

[saved-fanfiction]

Happy Birthday, Josuke!

Pairing: Josuke Higashikata x Reader

Summary: It's Josuke's birthday and he wants to try something new tonight:

A/N: I posted this a while ago on AO3, but as I was updating my masterlist here, I realized I never posted it on Tumblr. Based on this VERY NSFW image (which is referenced with permission). I love that this will be the work that christens my blog.

WC: 4.1k

Read it on AO3 here.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, Sub Josuke, Use of toys, light bondage

Your hands are shaking with excitement as Josuke's favorite Prince album plays softly in the background.

“Are you sure you still want to do this? Speak now or forever hold your peace,” your voice is sing-song as you guide Josuke's chin so he can look up at you.

Josuke is naked and kneeling on his haunches in the center of your bed with his hands tied behind his back. You'd wanted to put on something a bit more appealing for this event, but he insisted that he liked the way you looked in your underwear and his oversized shirt. Tonight was all about him and you wouldn't deny him anything. At least, not right now.

He hums with a smile. His face is already a bit flushed as he looks you in the eyes.

“I trust you babe. Besides…” He trails off as he smirks. “This is really hot.”

You giggle a bit.

“You remember the safe word, Josuke?

“Yeah babe.”

“Say it for me.”

His cheeks grow pink and he breaks your gaze.

“Raspberry.”

“Are you nervous?”

He chews on his bottom lip as his blush begins to spread to his neck.

“A little bit.”

You bring his eyes back up to yours.

“Don't be. I'm going to take very good care of you birthday boy.”

“I'm looking forward to it baby.”

You lean down to press a kiss to his lips. He wastes no time sliding his tongue into your mouth and you allow him. You won't be too hard on him tonight. It is his birthday after all. Gently, your hands begin to smooth over the skin of Josuke's shoulders. Your fingertips lightly dance across his warm skin and trace over his star shaped birthmark. His moan is complaint when your hands make their way up to his pompadour. A smile begins to creep across your lips. You can feel his frustration grow as his lips start to leave yours, no doubt to tell you off about messing up his hair. Grabbing a fist full of his black strands, you tug his head backwards. His mouth hangs open against yours. Whatever he was about to say is replaced by a breathy moan. It’s entertaining to see just how quickly his irritation melts into pleasure. He shoots you a glare that translates something about how you're going to pay for that later. Right now, you don't care and by the end of the night, you were hoping to have Josuke's brain too fried to remember in the morning. You place kisses up the column of his neck as your hands wander a bit. When your hands smooth down his shoulders and onto his chest, you can feel him flexing. You know he's itching to touch you. He's never been restrained before and he's probably regretting it now. You lick a wet trail across his collarbone before biting at his skin. He moans loudly when you begin to suck on the skin hard enough to leave a mark.

Josuke always enjoyed being marked. He only pretended to cover up the markings. In actuality, he loved showing them off. He loves getting “caught” with hickies all over his body (by anyone except his mother). He also loves the way you scratch his back when you're under him. Feeling the sting the next day in the shower not only reminds him of how well he railed you, but it also gets him excited all over again.

“Bend over,” you instruct him.

His cheeks blaze as the words leave your mouth. Josuke could always be so bashful in bed, especially when he was being submissive. He had no problems telling you filthy things when he was the one in charge. When you and Josuke started sleeping together, you were quite surprised how filthy his mouth got whenever he took the reins in the bedroom.

You place a hand on Josuke's chest to help him into position. With his arms restrained behind his back, you don't want him to hurt himself falling forward. Gently, his head lays onto the soft mattress. You hum as you run your hands up and down his arms to get him to relax. Getting off the bed, you walk over to your nightstand where you have an assortment of toys splayed out. There are only a few in your possession, but you would be using all of them on Josuke tonight. You grab the small, purple egg shaped toy and open the drawer in search of the small bottle of lube you had stored inside. You notice how Josuke tenses when he hears the drawer close. Walking back over to the bed, you place a hand on Josuke's thigh.

“Josuke,” you start in the most calming voice you can muster. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. I'm just, I-I'm just a little excited. That's all.”

“Okay,” you say as you rub your hand up and down his thigh to get him to relax. “I’m going to go slow. Tell me if anything hurts or makes you uncomfortable.”

“I will babe.”

You squeeze a bit of lube onto your fingers and ball your fist to try and warm it up a bit in your hand. Josuke flinches when your wet fingers graze the cleft of his ass.

“Josuke, relax sweetheart.”

You hear him exhale. You wait for him to visibly relax before you continue any further. Your fingers lightly rail around the tight ring of muscle. He doesn't flinch this time. You continue to feel around to get him used to the sensation. He jumps a bit as one of your fingers slowly begins to enter him.

“You okay, baby?” You ask as you reach down to palm at his erection to take his mind off of your finger breaching his ass.

He's hard enough to crush rock salt and you've only just started. He moans as you begin to languidly stroke him.

“I'm good. I'm good.”

The thought of using your mouth on him makes your mouth run dry.

“You want me to keep going?”

“Yes.” An exhale. “Please.”

You're slow in the way you work your finger into him. You want to take your time and make this a really good experience for Josuke. He always takes such good care of you all the time, it's only fair. Once you get your finger in to the knuckle, you begin to insert a second finger. Josuke groans under you. You can't see his face but you can see the blush creeping up the back of his neck. You knew that if his hands weren't tied behind his back, he'd have a hand clasped to the back of his neck to cover it. You begin to feel around and scissor him open. Taking a firmer grasp on his cock, you stroke him with vigor. It's enough to earn a moan from him but you know it's not enough to give him any satisfaction. Your ears pick up on the way Josuke's breathing gets heavier. It makes you so happy to know that he's relaxed and enjoying himself. A loud moan is muffled into the mattress when you find his prostate. Testing a few different speeds and pressures, you listen to the way Josuke moans to gauge how much he's enjoying having your fingers inside him. It's the breathy ‘fuck babe’ that lets you know you've got him just where you want him. He whines when both of your hands leave him.

“Babe please,” he begins to say as he looks over his shoulder.

You laugh at how early in the game he’s already pleading with you.

“Don't worry, Josuke. I'm going to take really good care of you. Just be patient baby.”

You grab the egg shaped toy and squeeze a generous amount of lube onto it. The toy isn't large, maybe the size of a strawberry with a long string attached, but you don't want to hurt Josuke. You run the tip along the outside of his hole, not wanting to take him by surprise. Josuke gives another heavy exhale, relaxing for you again. Slowly, you push the toy into him. He's choking out small groans as you steadily push the toy into him.

“How are you doing down there?”

“It feels...weird but not bad.”

“Good. You're doing really well so far. I think you're in for a nice treat tonight.”

“Yeah, I can't wait.”

You get the toy all the way into him and he inhales sharply. If you remembered your placement, the toy should be sitting directly on Josuke's prostate. You make sure to let the string hang out for easy retrieval later. Wiping your hands on the towel you have set out on the bed, you admire your handy work.

“How's that feel?”

“Good.”

“Good. Sit back up.”

Like before, you place a hand on his chest to help bring him back up to a kneeling position. He shivers as the toy shifts inside him. You reach over to the nightstand and pick up the two smaller pill shaped toys and the small roll of skin tape. You kneel in front of him on the bed so you're almost eye level.

“Gonna tape my mouth?” He asks with a smirk.

“Now why would I do that? I want to hear you scream for me tonight.”

Josuke's face flushes as he pouts. It feels good to wipe that smug smirk off of his face.

You lean forward and take one of his nipples into your mouth. Your eyes are focused on him as he tilts his head back and moans. Slowly, you begin to stroke him again as you switch to his other nipple. When it pebbles your mouth, you pull away with a ‘pop’. You lick languidly at his nipple before placing one of the toys over it and securing it there with tape. You do the same with his other nipple. You made sure to purchase tape made for skin so the removal process wouldn't be painful for him (or you in the possible future). You place open mouthed kisses along his body. With him being restrained, you could explore his body to your heart's content. It's a mystery how Josuke remained in such good shape when he ate so much junk food and hardly worked out.

You have all of Josuke's attention. He's watching you, his pupils blown wide as your mouth trails lower and lower. He has you locked in his gaze as you worship the body of the man you love the most. He’s being so good for you. You can't wait to ruin him.

Your lips reach a scar on his abdomen that he got a few years ago. He got it when protecting a child from a serial killer. The wound had him in the hospital for a few weeks. It was bad. He could have died. But he didn't. He's still here. With you. About to be ruined by you on his birthday many years later. You lick up the path of the scar and Josuke's head tilts back as he moans even louder than before. You continue kissing downward, watching as he starts to fidget. The soft hairs of his happy trail tickle your lips as you kiss under his navel and continue working your way down. He's panting shallowly as he watches you. Patience wasn't one of Josuke's strong suits. It's obvious that he's fighting the urge to break through the silk ropes and pin you down. Where would the fun in that be? You can feel his cock twitch under your jaw. He frowns at the mischievous smile on your face.

You look down at his poor, neglected cock. The head is flushed red with a bead of pre-cum sitting on the tip. Your mouth is watering to taste him. You take one teasing lick at the top of his cock and he lets out a throaty moan. Your tongue swirls around the tip, licking up the pre-cum there. His hips jerk forward into your mouth as the muscles in his thighs strain. You take him about halfway and hollow out your cheeks.

“Shit.” He says above you. “Keep doing that and I'm not gonna last.”

You take him as far as you can, bobbing your head back and forth for a bit before stopping short. He shivers as you run your nails up and down his toned chest. He's breathing heavily when you pull your mouth off of him. Picking up the purple cock ring from the nightstand, use push it over the head of his cock. You twist it, testing to ensure it's not too tight. Josuke is long but he's also girthy. The shop you bought it from had many different sizes and you're hoping you grabbed the right one. It stretched a bit to accommodate larger sizes, but you didn't want it to be too tight on him. Using your saliva as lubricant, you slide the cock ring onto him and push it to the base of his cock. It fits perfectly.

“Fuck babe, this is really hot.”

He's right. It was rare that you got to do something like this to Josuke. It's not that he didn't let you. You never really asked. You’re more than happy with the way Josuke folded you like a pretzel and fucked you into the mattress almost every day.

You grabbed the small purple remote from your nightstand. Josuke opens his mouth to say something that is no doubt snarky, but is lost for words when you press the power button on the remote and all of the toys begin to buzz to life. His back straightens up and his head tilts as the toys vibrate at the lowest setting. Your fingers trace around his nipples and cock to feel the shallow vibrations of the toys. Gently, you grab him by the balls and hold them in the palm of your hand. You can feel the toy softly buzzing inside Josuke.

“Holy shit,” he chokes out as his eyes flutter closed.

“Now, Josuke. I'm going to give you one rule tonight. Just one. Don't cum until I tell you to.”

He moans in acknowledgement. You reach over to the nightstand and grab the last toy that you'll be using for the night, a Hitachi magic wand. This one was a fan favorite in your bedroom. Josuke enjoyed using it on you as he fucked you, especially to overstimulate you. Everything was exceptional about Josuke. His stamina was no different. He could go and go and go. For every time that he came, he wanted you to cum twice.

His eyes are back on you as you turn the wand on its lowest setting. Your smile is deceptively sweet as you lean forward to place kisses along the side of his neck. It takes him by surprise when you place the wand against the underside of his cock. He moans right into your ear, which causes warmth to shoot right through you. Josuke was never one to be quiet in the bedroom. There were times that he was louder than you. Having a partner who was unafraid of letting you know just how good you were making them feel definitely stroked your ego. You send your neighbors plenty of gift baskets to make up for all of the times that they couldn't look you in the eye.

You alternate between licks and kisses as you continue to explore Josuke's firm chest. Your free hand grabs the remote and begins to play with the three dials controlling the speed of all three vibrators. His body jerks backwards when you turn all three dials to their highest setting. He lets out a choked ‘fuck’ through his teeth. You hum happily as you continue to kiss across his broad chest. He begins to pant and growl and you know at this rate, he's not going to last very long, so you decide to turn down the dials on the remote and remove the wand from him. He whimpers at the loss. When he's good and calm, you bring the vibrators back up to medium speed.

Kissing up the column of his neck to his jaw, you can feel the vibrations of his moans. His moans grow louder when you press the wand to his length again. You can feel him fighting the urge to thrust for more friction. It's when you kiss him that you feel him press his cock up against the wand. He’s losing his composure, but you knew he could do this for much, much longer. He's desperate to have your tongue in his mouth so you let him do as he pleases. He gasps when you tear your lips from his to continue kissing his body.

“Please,” he begs.

“Please, what?” you ask, your lips still pressed against his warm skin.

He doesn't answer you. He's not at his breaking point. Not yet. You pull the wand back and lower the speed of the toys. His bottom lip is trembling, something you've never seen from Josuke. This lets you know that you have him right where you want him. You want so badly to strip yourself of your clothing and fuck him until you're sore but you don't want to give up your power. Josuke granted you the power to have your way with him tonight. You'd never abuse it, but you sure as hell were going to milk it (and him) for every last drop. So for the next half hour, you play with the speed settings on the vibrators while you mark Josuke's chest, neck, and shoulders with your mouth. Whenever he was on the verge of cumming, you would stop or change speed.

His body is trembling and drool is running down the corner of his mouth. Tears begin to run down his cheeks.

“Please,” he begs.

He squeals when you press the wand a little harder against his length.

“P-please...please. Please let me cum,” he begs, his voice so low it's almost a whisper. “Please. I need…”

More. He needs more. He’s so close. He needs just a little push and know just what will do him in.

You remove the wand from his length but leave the other vibrators to buzz away at medium speed. The sob that leaves Josuke's lips has heat pulsing through you. You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel just a tiny bit guilty. If this hadn't been his idea in the first place, you think you would've caved by now. Though, a much, much larger part of you felt proud. You'd reduced Josuke to a crying, pleading mess. You could get used to seeing Josuke being so submissive.

You'd heard him beg earlier, but you wanted to hear him say it again.

“Look at me Josuke.”

Gripping his jaw, he looks at you through teary eyes.

“Josuke, do you want to cum?”

“Yes! Yes! Please! Please! Pl—”

You shush him with a kiss to his soft lips.

“I want you to cum for me Josuke.”

He nods. It's an order. You turn the dials of all of the vibrators up to their maximum setting. The veins in Josuke's neck pop out as his mouth hangs open. You grab the Hitachi wand, set it at medium speed, and press it to the base of his shaft. His body is trembling as he chokes out a series of moans. You lean down and take the head of his cock into your mouth. Hollowing out your cheeks, you shallowly bob your head up and down focusing all of your attention on the tip while the Hitachi and cock ring do the rest of the work for you. His breathing is erratic as you feel his abs pressing against the top of your head.

“I’m gonna cum. Holy shit, I’m gonna cum. Please. Please! Oh, fuck! Gonna cum,” he babbles.

You moan around him and his whole body goes quiet. A deep broken moan escapes him and you know you're in for it. He leans forward, putting his weight on your back as he yells through his orgasm. His cock twitches as his cum begins to fill your mouth. His orgasm is explosive for it's delay lighting liquid fire throughout his body. You can't remember the last time Josuke came so much at once. You do your best to swallow it all, but his cock slips from your mouth with all of his thrashing. You keep the Hitachi on him through the height of his orgasm and as he begins to calm. His yelling begins to boil down to drawn out groans.

When he begins to whimper, you remove the wand and power it down. His chest is heaving on top of you and his body shaking in aftershock. The sweat on his chest is begins to soak through the back of your shirt.

“It's...it's too much. Please…” He begs, his voice hoarse from yelling.

He rolls off of you so you can grab the remote. You press the power button to power down the various vibrators at once. Josuke sighs in relief as he continues to catch his breath. You look over at him with bits of cum painted on the corner of your mouth and chin. He's still trying to catch his breath, but gives you a small smile. You place a hand on his chest for reassurance and he shivers. His body is in endorphin overdrive.

“Let me get you cleaned up. I'll be right back.”

You hop off the bed to grab a small towel. You clean your face before walking back over to Josuke. With him laying on his side, you work to undo the knotted silk ties keeping his hands together. You can already see the red lines and bruising that will be more prominent in the morning. You hear Josuke groan as his arms are freed. It wouldn't surprise you if his arms were asleep.

“Are you okay, Josuke? That wasn't too much was it?”

“I love you,” he says, his voice cracking and hoarse.

“What?”

You heard him the first time. You’re just surprised by his response.

“I said I fucking love you,” he says a little louder with a dopey grin.

Warmth begins to bloom in your chest as you smile down at him. His eyes never leave your face. Of course it's not the first time he's told you that he loved you but he's looking at you like you're the most beautiful thing in the world.

“I love you too,” you giggle as you continue to clean him.

Once he's all cleaned up and the toys are in the ‘to be cleaned’ bin, he reaches his arms out, making grabby hands at you. You get onto the bed next to him and he rolls over to lay on your chest. He's still naked and a bit sweaty but you don't really care. His pompadour has almost completely lost its shape. The stray strands tickle the underside of your jaw. Your arms wrap around him and hold him close. He lets out a content sigh as he closes his eyes.

“Are you sure you're okay, Josuke?”

“I'm okay. Babe, that was so fucking hot. I wish everyday was my birthday.”

His body relaxes into yours and you can tell he's about to fall asleep.

“Hey! Josuke, don't fall asleep! You've gotta take a shower and we have to change these sheets!”

His arms wrap around you, holding you in place under him.

“Josuke!”

“Just fifteen minutes babe.” His voice is laiden with exhaustion.

“Josuke you're going to be asleep for the rest of the night. Let's get you in the shower now. “

His arms tighten around you to hold you still.

“God, I fucking love you,” he says so low, you can barely hear it.

His words melt you. God, did he know how to butter you up. Damn him.

“I love you too.”

“Marry me.”

“What?”

Again, you'd heard him the first time.

“Marry me baby.”

A grin begins to split your face. He can't be serious. It's just the adrenaline talking. That's it.

“You're crazy. You can't be serious,” you say with a nervous giggle.

“I'm dead serious.”

You can't see his face, but you know he's being serious, no matter how dazed the words may sound coming out of his mouth.

“How about we talk about it later?”

He doesn't answer you. He's already asleep. You almost can't sit to be able him up in a few so he can take a shower. You love Josuke so much.

senseiofbullshit 2025 - I do not not consent to my work being stolen, plagiarized, or modified.

[saved-fanfiction]

Attraction & Repulsion

You have known Jotaro Kujo since you were kids, but since middle school he has been absolutely sour towards you. When you are both assigned to work together for your senior project, he reveals something you didn't expect.

Read on AO3 here

CONTENT WARNING 18+ ONLY PLEASE

WARNING FOR : Handjob, Blowjob, Loss of Virginity, Unprotected Sex

What was so appealing about Jotaro Kujo?

In your school, Jotaro was known as the resident bad boy - you could always catch him with a scowl on his face and a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He was menacing, standing at six foot five and constantly peering down at everyone with an annoyed face. It didn’t help that the hat he wore often covered his face, casting a dark shadow over it. His deep, gruff voice often spat out expletives to his classmates and even to his teachers, who simply took it without argument. It wasn’t hard to spot him walking down the hallway, hands deep in his trademark trench coat.

But everything about him just annoyed you.

Why was he always so rude?! Sometimes he would glare at you when you passed him on your way to class, causing you to return it with your own. You would catch him smoking in the schoolyard, blowing the smoke out lazily. The smell of cigarette smoke often wafted in the air as he passed by, causing you to cough. Whenever you bumped into him by accident, he never apologized. Instead he would look down at you, his hat slipping down and making it hard for you to decipher his reaction. You would mumble an apology and keep walking, not even bothering to look back. It took everything in you not to snap at him when he would talk rudely to your teachers.

It was as if the Universe had decided to have him be a constant annoyance in your life. Your family lived down the street from him, with your father occasionally going out drinking with Jotaro’s father whenever he was in town. This meant that you attended all of the same schools as him, starting from preschool up until now in high school. During preschool you had attempted to befriend Jotaro, and the two of you had had a weird friendship up until your first year of high school. He started the school year as a practically new person, his face chiseled, his body tall and muscular, and his voice much deeper.

You suddenly were a pest to him.

His “bad boy” reputation fueled your dislike of him, and eventually it developed into a deep annoyance. You did your best to avoid him outside of class, but it was inevitable. Your father had begun asking about him, and you did your best to brush the question off and change the subject. Jotaro’s father had begun touring more, which meant that he hadn’t spent time with your father.

What a relief.

However, your friends did not share the same view as you and worshiped Jotaro. They were always drooling over him, squealing every time he walked by or whenever they caught a glimpse of him from a distance.

“He is such a dreamboat!”

It wasn’t uncommon during lunch for your friends to look across the courtyard and watch Jotaro as he casually smoked a cigarette. Despite their efforts to get his attention, he never once looked their way.

“He is so handsome,” your best friend, Anne, sighed.

You rolled your eyes, stabbing your fork into your salad.

“I have no idea what you see in him.”

“You’re just saying that because you’ve known him since you were kids!”

The fact that you were technically childhood friends with Jotaro was always hung over your head. You had insisted to your friends that he really wasn’t all that, but they refused to believe you. At first, they had felt threatened by your former friendship with him, but they had quickly dropped it.

“Stop staring and finish your food. Lunch is almost over.”

Your friends never stopped talking about him, and it was basically an obsession for them at this point.

“Why don’t you just start a fanclub for him?” you had suggested sarcastically.

They had taken your idea seriously, and there was an unofficial “Jotaro Kujo Fan Club” that was dedicated to keeping tabs on him throughout the school day and even his social plans outside of school. You weren’t sure if Jotaro knew about his “fans” (stalkers), as he never seemed to react to the girls who were always swarming around him.

“What is it about him that makes him so dreamy?”

The answer was always the same.

“He just has that bad boy aura, you know?”

“It makes him so sexy.”

“Gross,” you would reply with a wrinkled nose.

There had been a few times where your friends had begged you to introduce them to Jotaro, but you had refused every single time.

“He hasn’t talked to me since middle school. I don’t have much pull with him, sorry.”

“But you can try, right?!” Anne had cried.

“Why do you want him so bad?! He’s nothing but rude and annoying.”

Your statement had the table going quiet, each girl holding a hand over their mouth in shock.

“What? It’s true! Do you hear how he talks to the teachers?”

“The teachers are always rude to him!”

You had blinked, staring at your friends in bewilderment.

“When has that happened? Did I miss something?”

Your friends had refused to answer your question, which had made you sigh.

“He never apologizes to me whenever he bumps into me.”

“Maybe you should watch where you’re going.”

“Anne!” you had hissed. “Don’t be rude!”

“She has a point.”

Maybe you needed to find new friends?

With senior year coming to a close, you would hope their focus would shift from Jotaro to college. You continued to distance yourself from him, ignoring your parent’s questions about him and avoiding him in the hallways. Whenever he talked back to teachers during class, you would sink into your thoughts and wait for him to finish before focusing again. Sometimes he would be walking home at the same time as you, and you made sure to walk on the opposite side of the street and to walk as fast as possible.

It felt stupid, really, but what could you do? He was rude and annoying, and you wanted nothing to do with him.

To try and get credits for college, you had enrolled in an advanced Anatomy class that was taught by a professor from the local community college. In order to get the full credits, you were assigned a senior project. At the beginning of the school year, you had been briefly told about it, and would begin working on it during your last semester. After returning from your Winter vacation, your professor informed you that you would have to begin working on the project.

“I hope you all had a wonderful vacation!”

It was the first day back from vacation, and everyone was tired. You fought a yawn, resting your chin on your fist as you listened to your professor. Your family had traveled to Jeju Island for some nicer weather, and had flown back the morning before. With two months left in the school year, you were itching to be done.

“Well, it’s time to talk about your senior project, just like I promised at the start of the year!”

He stepped up to his laptop, starting the Powerpoint presentation and displaying it on the board.

“Drum roll please!”

Your classmates gave half-hearted pounding on their desks. The next slide was revealed, with GROUP PROJECT displayed.

“A group project! By group project, I mean groups of two.”

The announcement had your classmates waking up, glancing about the room at potential partners.

“You will be assigned a partner by me! I made the groups during vacation.”

A few groans spread around the room, causing the professor to raise an eyebrow.

“Your professors will do the same for you in college. You won’t know everyone in your classes, so it makes the process easier for you.”

He clicked to the next slide, which explained the project in detail.

“You and your assigned partner will be given a specific system in the human body. You will conduct research on it and develop a realistic model to explain its organs and functions.”

The next slide had a list of the organ systems. You had enjoyed learning about the nervous system, and you crossed your fingers under your desk that you would be assigned it.

“You have the choice of making a physical model or creating a 3D one with a design program that I will provide to you. I suggest discussing with your partner what is easiest for you.”

You pursed your lips. Perhaps a 3D model for all the nerves . . . ?

"Try to be as specific as possible! Make sure to include all organs, or you will lose points. There will be a presentation as well, so make sure to be as detailed as possible.”

Your professor crossed his arms across his chest.

“Okay, can I get another drumroll please? I have the groups on the next slide.”

The drumroll this time was much louder, and you continued to keep your fingers crossed under your desk. Your professor waited a minute before dramatically clicking onto the next slide, with GROUPS labeled at the top. Each line started with the specific organ system, with the partners listed after. The organs were listed in the order you had studied them, with the digestive system being first. The nervous system was fourth, and your heart sank when you saw that you hadn’t been assigned it. You kept scanning the slide, looking for your name and nearly slamming your desk when you found it.

Your name was written after the reproductive system, along with Jotaro’s name.

You were dreaming, right? This had to be a dream!

Turning your head towards his desk, you saw that Jotaro was already looking at you. His face had its usual stern, unreadable expression, and he acknowledged you with a subtle nod. You fought the urge to flip him off and, instead, looked forward to your professor, who was going over the rubric for the project.

You had no idea what kind of student Jotaro was, as you had never heard that he was taking remedial classes. While you were used to doing most of the work in group projects, the last thing you wanted to do was carry Jotaro’s responsibility for your last project. Huffing under your breath, you crossed your arms tightly and sank lower into your seat.

Plus, the reproductive system?! You had to examine . . . ugh.

Jotaro was still looking at you when you flickered your gaze towards him. The thought of having to discuss reproduction . . . and genitals . . . babymaking . . .

Heat rushed to your cheeks while goosebumps erupted along your skin.

Your classmates had been mature discussing the topic, especially when discussing sexual health, so you anticipated that Jotaro would be the same. Plus, you had never heard that he was dating or hooking up with someone, so . . .

Shaking your head, you tried to refocus on your professor’s words and failed. He began passing out the project packet, asking you to follow along as he reviewed it. You half followed along, your eyes drifting over to Jotaro occasionally. He had finally turned back towards your professor, tapping his pencil absently on his desk while he listened.

Maybe there was some hope?

The period began coming to a close, and the professor clapped his hands.

“Okay, the part everyone has been waiting for! Before we leave today, please introduce yourself to your partner and begin making a plan.”

Jotaro turned to look at you, and you knew he wouldn’t be coming to you. With a sigh, you begrudgingly grabbed your belongings and plopped into the desk next to him. One of his arms hung casually on the back of his seat, body turned towards you as he waited for you to speak.

“Er, hi.”

He didn’t respond, continuing to stare at you.

“Well, we have a fun system to explore. I can tackle the female system, while you do the male system. Makes sense, right?”

You opened your planner, flipping through until you reached the current week.

“If we plan early enough, we can probably finish this month. I’m sure you have other projects you need to work on.”

When he didn’t respond, you looked up at him. You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to respond.

“Whatever.”

Anger began to rise in you, but you pushed it down.

“Okay, I’m going to pencil in I’m doing the female system, and you’re doing the male one.”

You scribbled the note down, glancing at your schedule for the rest of the week.

“This week is pretty light. We should schedule a meeting this week to make our plan and split up the work.”

Looking up again, you cocked your head to the side.

“Are you free this week?”

He sighed, lowering his head so his hat concealed his face.

“I need an answer, Jotaro.”

“Whatever, you decide.”

Your eye began to twitch.

“I can’t decide if I don’t know when you’re free.”

He didn’t respond again. You reached up to pinch the bridge of your nose, counting to five under your breath before trying again.

“Well, I’m free most of the week. Just find me when you’re ready to work.”

The bell rang, symbolizing your freedom from Jotaro. You jumped up, not even bothering to say goodbye as you stalked off. Anything to be away from him.

***

When you arrived home, your parents informed you they would be gone for the night. Your father had to attend a work meeting in the city, and the two decided to make a small vacation out of it together. They promised to be back tomorrow by dinner, and asked you to keep the house safe while they were gone. After ordering dinner, you got comfy on your couch, turning on Netflix and browsing through the home page.

A series of sharp knocks had you jumping, and you realized the food had arrived really fast. Grabbing the tip off the counter, you jogged to the front door and threw it open.

“Wow, thank you so much! You got here so fast -”

The words died in your throat as you realized it was in fact not the delivery driver. Instead, Jotaro Kujo was standing on your porch, hands tucked into his trenchcoat. You blinked up at him, trying to process the scene in front of you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

His deep voice grumbled in his chest as he spoke.

“I’m here to work on the project.”

You glanced behind him, gesturing to the darkened sky.

“Do you see what time it is?”

He ignored your question, glancing behind you into your house.

“Jotaro, what are you doing here?”

A pair of headlights shone on you two, and you realized the actual delivery driver was here. You brushed past Jotaro, tipping the driver and thanking him before returning to where Jotaro was still standing. He glanced down at the bag, raising an eyebrow at you.

“We normal people have dinner at this time. I haven’t had a chance to eat.”

“Don’t let me stop you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Jotaro, you haven’t answered my question.”

“I did.”

“You answered my question with a question,” you sighed.

He glanced behind you into your house again.

“Are you going to invite me inside?”

The two of you walked inside, with Jotaro slipping off his shoes as he looked around. You locked the door, placing your food on the table and settling back on the couch as you began unwrapping the bag and grabbing the food containers.

“You said you’re here to work on the project. Why?”

“I’m ready to work on the project.”

You shot him a glare as you chewed on your food.

“You’re ready to work on the project.”

He nodded, looking at you as if it was obvious.

You took a couple more bites before speaking again.

“I’m going to ask you again. Do you see what time it is?”

“Dinner time, apparently.”

You flushed, shooting him another glare.

“What have you been up to all afternoon that you couldn’t stop by earlier?”

“I was busy.”

You rolled your eyes, shoveling more food into your mouth.

“So busy I’m sure.”

It was his turn to glare at you.

“I’m not busy anymore, so now I’m here.”

You paused to take a long sip of your drink before finishing up your food.

“Uh huh.”

Gathering the trash, you slipped into the kitchen to throw the bag out before returning to sit beside Jotaro.

“Why can’t you just come back tomorrow? It’s late, I’m not sure how much work we can get done.”

He leaned back against the couch, throwing an arm across the back of the cushions.

“This is the only free time I have.”

You barked out a laugh, shaking your head.

“I highly doubt that, but sure.”

He sighed, shaking his head as he leaned his face towards you.

“What, do you follow me like the rest of your friends do?”

Your mouth fell open. So he did know!

“God no! I have much better things to do.”

“I highly doubt that.”

His tone mocked your previous words, which made your skin bristle. You closed your eyes, sucking in a breath as you kept your anger at bay.

“Listen, why don’t you come back tomorrow? We can work on it here as soon as we get out of school.”

“I just told you, I can’t.”

“You haven’t given me an exact reason why,” you grimaced.

“What, are you my girlfriend?”

Heat flooded your cheeks as your mouth opened and closed in shock. Jotaro leaned further back into your couch, legs spreading open in a wide manspread. He seemed at ease, face calm as he studied you.

“In your dreams.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Look, I just have some stuff to take care of with my Mom.”

Holly Kujo was quite possibly the nicest person you had ever met, and you always wondered how Jotaro was her son. She had doted on you when you were a kid, sneaking extra cookies your way and happily supervising your play dates.

“Oh, why didn’t you just say that? Your Mom is so nice, so that’s fine.”

He grunted in response.

“Kakyoin and I also hang out, so that takes time too.”

Noriaki Kakyoin was in the same year as you both, transferring in halfway through the year. Just like Jotaro, he had his own personal fan club, but he was much nicer. The two were often spotted together, and you assumed Kakyoin was as much a delinquent as Jotaro was.

“I didn’t realize you two were besties.”

“Don’t say it like that,” he growled in irritation.

You giggled, shaking your head.

“That doesn’t sound like a denial!”

“Are we going to work on this damn project or not?”

The smile on your face was slowly wiped off.

“Can’t you, like, reschedule with your bestie?”

“Don’t call him that,” he warned.

“Whatever,” you sighed. “But, seriously, I’m tired, Jotaro. This project is worth a lot, and I want it to be as perfect as possible.”

He turned to look at you, studying your expression.

“We’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

You blinked up at him incredulously.

“Are you being serious right now?”

He sighed in irritation, leaning his head back against the couch cushion.

“Look, I’ll do whatever you say right now. If we can get a big chunk done like you said, I’ll back off for a bit.”

You considered his offer. He was right, if you could get a lot done tonight, you could focus on your other classes and prep for finals. A part of you was even okay with taking over for the remainder of the project, as long as he did his work for now. Plus, you wouldn’t have to keep hassling him to make time to see you . . .

Jotaro must have noticed your expression change since he suddenly turned his body towards you.

“So that’s a yes?”

Crossing your arms across your chest, you gave him a pointed look.

“On one condition. You do whatever I say. Like I said, this needs to be perfect.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mused. “You’ve been such a nerd since we were kids.”

It was the first time ever that he had mentioned your shared past.

“Sorry I want to go to a good school.”

“Nothing wrong with that. I’ve always known you were meant for good things.”

Who was the person sitting beside you?!

“W-well, why don’t we head to my room? I have a desk up there, plus my school stuff. Um, I’ll get some drinks and snacks.”

Jotaro disappeared up the stairs while you busied yourself in the kitchen. You knew he would see how flustered you were and tease you, so you took your time to try and calm yourself. When you entered your room, he was sitting on the floor by the foot of your bed, eyes roaming around. His eyes shifted towards yours before looking back at the wall.

“It smells nice in here.”

“O-oh, thanks.”

You placed the snacks and drinks beside him before sitting in front of your desk. Opening your laptop, you began rambling about the rubric for the project and what you both needed to do to ensure you got full credit. You pulled out the packet that your professor had given you and showed the notes that you had written earlier.

“I figured we could use this as a template and go from there.”

Jotaro didn’t respond, giving you a curt nod to symbolize that he was listening. You kept on, showing him the outlines that you had drafted in your planner and explaining your thought process. Turning back to your laptop, you created a series of files to share with Jotaro before turning to look at him again.

“So? What do you think?”

You looked at him expectantly, hoping he would keep his word from earlier. He shrugged, waving a hand dismissively at you.

“Whatever. If you think that works, fine.”

“Jotaro, take this seriously,” you hissed.

“I am.”

“Can you at least act like it?!”

You paused, closing your eyes to take in a deep breath.

“Look, can you at least give me some input?”

He took off his hat, placing it beside him while he ran a hand through his hair. Your breath got caught in your chest as you took in his face, no longer hidden under his hat. He turned to look at you, dark brows creasing. His face was sharp - a sharp nose, sharp jaw, with the outlier being his soft, pouty lips. You blinked, realizing he was talking to you.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Er, no. Sorry.”

His lips pulled into a smirk.

“What, distracted by my looks?”

“Sh-shut up!”

You kept your eyes focused on your laptop as you babbled on.

“Even though we’re covering both systems, I think we should teach each other about them so during the presentation we’re prepared.”

You cleared your throat, flipping through your notebook until you found your notes.

“Okay, the female reproductive system . . . the main organs are the uterus and ovaries.”

Skimming through your notes, you hummed to yourself.

“The uterus is responsible for the menstrual cycle, as it sheds, and where babies develop during pregnancy.”

Jotaro was quiet, and you were too embarrassed to look at him.

“The ovaries are where eggs develop and are expelled from, traveling down the Fallopian tubes where they sit in the ovaries and wait to be fertilized.”

“Fertilized by sperm.”

His deep voice was softer now. You glanced over your shoulder to see him looking at you with an expression you hadn’t seen before.

“Yes, by sperm. Do you know where it comes from?”

“My dick.”

“Jotaro!”

He laughed, the sound startling you.

“I’m kidding. It’s made in the testes and travels through the penis and is ejaculated during intercourse.”

“Oh, you do pay attention in class.”

Clearing your throat again, you continued on.

“The ovaries also release hormones that regulate reproduction in females.”

“What about the clit?”

You blinked.

“Er, that’s not a reproductive organ. That’s a sexual one.”

“Won’t that shit need to be included?”

You leaned back in your chair, tapping your chin in thought.

“Well, we briefly talked about sex organs. Reproduction is much different, though.”

“How? Reproduction is sex. It’s how babies are made.”

The room went silent. You kept your back to him, feeling the heat return to your cheeks.

“What? You know I’m not wrong.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled.

You busied yourself with typing out your notes. It was quiet for a few minutes before Jotaro spoke again.

“You ever had sex?”

What.

“That is none of your business.”

“So you’re a virgin.”

You whirled around, pointing a finger at him. He put his hands up, speaking before you had a chance to.

“Whoa, relax. I’m a virgin too, so back off.”

“Wait, you are?”

He grimaced, looking away.

“Your friends have this idea that I’m this hot, confident guy who can pull any girl he wants. I’m not interested in things like that. I’ve never even had a girlfriend.”

Your friends would be happy to hear that.

“Plus, I haven’t met anyone who I properly tolerate.”

“Must be so hard to find someone.”

You expected him to glare at you, but he smiled at you instead.

“I tolerate you.”

“You . . . you do?”

“I have since we were kids, loser.”

You sank towards the floor, crawling towards him and settling beside him.

“But you’re always so . . . dismissive towards me.”

“I see how your friends look at me. I know they would eat you alive.”

“Fair.”

Jotaro was so close to you that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. Up close, you were able to see his eyes, and you remembered that they were such a bright blue that you had often gotten lost in them when you were a kid. He cocked his head to the side, seeming to hesitate for a moment before speaking.

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

His hand came up to grasp your chin, eyes looking intensely into yours.

“Only if you’re comfortable. I won’t pressure you to do anything you don’t.”

Your body began shaking out of nervousness.

“I-I don’t know . . . I’ve never -”

“Me neither.”

“What if I’m bad?”

“I could finish fast,” he chuckled.

You bit your lip, looking back into his eyes again.

“Why?”

He shrugged, his hand letting go of you.

“I think this project has made me realize I may not be seeing you as much anymore.”

“O-oh, right.”

“Can you at least kiss me?”

Sucking in a deep breath, you crawled into his lap, straddling his thighs. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling back slightly to look at him. His eyes studied your face as you leaned in, lips parting until they were pressed softly against his. His lips were surprisingly soft, moving gently against yours. He tasted clean despite how often he smoked, and you wondered if he had brushed his teeth before arriving. When you pulled back, his face was much brighter, a small smile on his face.

“You’re a great kisser.”

You laughed, pushing him away.

“Don’t be dumb!”

You settled back onto his lap, but froze when you felt him hard against your inner thigh. The thought that you had been the one to turn him on had arousal beginning to form deep within you. A thought popped into your head, and you began sliding down his legs until you were kneeling in between them. Jotaro quirked a thick eyebrow at you, watching as your hands shakily lifted to grab at the buttons of his pants.

“Can I . . .?” you shyly asked.

He responded by lifting his hips, and you quickly undid the button and zipper before sliding them down his long legs. The pants were kicked off, leaving him in his boxers. Your eyes were fixated on the large tent, and you began second guessing your decision.

“We can stop.”

Your head shot up. Jotaro reached up to cup your face, a small smile gracing his lips.

“I’m not going to pressure you if you don’t want to.”

 Looking back at his crotch, you shook your head.

“You’re just . . . um, big.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“A girl stroking my ego.”

You wanted to stroke something else instead.

Sucking in a breath, you slipped your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down. His cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach. Your eyes went wide, admiring the neat hair at the base and how thick he was.

He definitely matched his body size.

You rose onto your knees slightly before reaching down with your right hand. He let out a hiss when your hand connected with him, and you slowly wrapped your hand around him. Your fingers weren’t close to meeting from his girth. Your left hand reached down to gently caress his balls, causing his head to fall back while a moan left his mouth.

“Your hands feel so warm,” he murmured.

You started off slow, stroking his cock slowly to get used to the feeling of him. Jotaro didn’t seem to mind, head still thrown back and eyes closed as you began to pick up the speed slightly. You gently squeezed his balls, and his hips jerked up. After a few minutes you had a good motion going with both hands, and you were about to go faster when his hand shot out.

“If you keep going I’m going to come.”

His hands came to grab at your hips, lifting you up above his lap. One hand held onto your hip while the other fumbled with your sweats. You swiftly untied them, yanking them down your legs, leaving you in your underwear. The hand on your hip moved down and pulled your panties to the side. Your breath hitched in your throat as large fingers began running along your slit.

“So wet already,” he whispered in your ear.

Hiding your face in his shoulder, you let him continue to rub against you. His thumb began circling your clit, his pointer and middle finger rubbing against your slit still. Your hips began jerking against his hand, and you began moaning into his shirt.

“You sound so pretty,” he cooed.

While you had touched yourself a few times, this felt much different. Normally, it took a long time for you to orgasm, but it didn’t take long with Jotaro. You came with a yell of his name, hips stuttering against his until you were coming down from your high. He stroked your hair, keeping you close until you slumped against him.

“Good girl.”

He kissed you, hands tangling in your hair. When you pulled apart, you blurted out what was on your mind.

“I want to taste you.”

“We’re crossing a lot of things off our list, aren’t we?” he chuckled.

He gently nudged you off his lap. His head jerked towards your bed.

“Lay on your stomach.”

You did as he asked, looking up at him as he stood near the foot of the bed. He reached behind him to tug his shirt off, leaving him completely naked in front of you. His body was just pure muscle, mouth watering at the sight of his biceps, shoulders, and abs. Smirking, he stepped closer to you, stroking himself before reaching out for you and yanking you by the hair.

“Suck.”

You leaned forward on one arm and opened your mouth, letting his heavy cock slide in. He tasted divine - he tasted like Jotaro. You closed your eyes, bobbing your head slowly as your mouth adjusted to the stretch. His hand came to rest on the back of your neck, guiding you to a rhythm that felt good for him. He pushed down too hard, his cock pressing against the back of your throat and causing you to cough.

“Oh shit, sorry.”

“You’re just really big.”

He laughed softly.

“Use your hands.”

You looked up at him with a frown.

“You sure you haven’t done this before?”

“I’ve seen some porn.”

You rolled your eyes.

Listening to his advice, you took him into your mouth again and used your hand to stroke what didn’t fit into his mouth. After a while you had a good rhythm going, and just like before Jotaro pushed you away.

“Sorry, I just -”

“I know,” you smiled at him.

He gestured towards you.

“Why aren’t you naked yet?”

Shaking your head, you pulled your shirt off. His eyes went wide upon seeing that you didn’t have a bra underneath. He eyed your naked body, tongue coming out to wet his lips.

“You’re beautiful.”

You flushed, looking away in embarrassment.

“Sh-shut up, Jotaro.”

He knelt on the bed, eyes half-lidded as he slowly approached you.

“I’m going to be honest, I really want to be rough with you right now. Is that okay?”

“H-how rough?”

He turned you over until you were on all fours. Suddenly he pushed your head down, his other hand pulling your hips up until you were face down ass up.

“Do I need to pull out?”

You shook your head.

“I’m on the pill. It helps with my cramps.”

He spanked you, clicking his tongue.

“Don’t need the backstory.”

You whimpered, hips rutting back against his. He spanked you again before you felt the tip of his cock pressing against you.

“Are you ready? I’m going to go slow.”

“Yes, Jotaro. I trust you.”

He paused at your words. You were about to look over your shoulder at him when you felt him begin to press into you. Hissing, you sucked in a deep breath and tried to get your body to relax.

“You’re doing so good, baby. Keep relaxing for me.”

You whimpered at his words, allowing him to slide in a little more. The stretch was painful, and you kept willing yourself to take it so it could change to pleasure. Jotaro’s hand settled on your ass, squeezing it while the other returned to the back of your neck. For some reason, the feeling of his hands on you aroused you, and you relaxed enough for him to slide in until he was halfway.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned.

“K-keep going,” you moaned out.

“I’m going to push in with one thrust, okay? You ready?”

“Just do it, Jotaro!”

“Greedy whore,” he said as he thrust in.

It felt as if he was in every inch of your body, as if he had melded with you. Gasping out, you wiggled your hips against his, which were now flush against yours. He grabbed your ass, the other hand gripping at the hair at the nape of your neck.

“I’m going to fuck you now. Can you take me?”

He didn’t wait for a response before pulling out quickly, only to thrust harshly back in. The bed creaked underneath you as he fucked into you faster, his pace merciless. You felt your second orgasm barreling towards you as you rubbed your clit.

“J-Jotaro, I’m going to come again,” you squeaked out.

“I’m almost there,” he said through gritted teeth.

You came again, screaming his name out. He followed not long after, hips erratic as he came with a roar of your name. He collapsed on top of you, your body falling forward as he laid on your back.

“You’re heavy,” you panted out.

He rolled over, pulling out which caused you to wince. You felt tired, ecstatic, and sore. Glancing over at Jotaro, you saw he was laying on his back with an arm thrown over his eyes.

“That was . . . wow.”

You chuckled, nuzzling into his side.

“Now whose ego is getting stroked?”

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer.

“Thanks.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“I’m no hook-up, Jotaro.”

“I know you’re not,” he frowned down at you. “I meant what I told you earlier.”

He sat up halfway, looking down at you.

“I think we fucked up the order of us dating.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Dating?”

He hummed in affirmation.

“My friends are going to kill me.”

“Fuck them. If they’re really your friends, they’ll be happy.”

The both of you fell silent after that. You had begun to doze off when you felt him kiss the top of your head.

“Get some rest. We need sleep so we can finish this dumb ass project.”

[saved-fanfiction]

JJBA: Love is Unbreakable. Intro

[Pic above from @/StickerTricker on Twitter!]

Synopsis: Y/n loves playing dating sim games, they intrigue her with the different plots, characters and special routes that one may do. So when her best friend introduces her to a new one. She realizes that maybe she needs to back away from the screen.

Pairings: Various JJBA Characters x Reader, Original Characters x Reader.

Rating: 16+ (Later Parts maybe +18)

Warnings: Stalking, Obsession, Possessiveness, Scopophobia, Kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome (In some endings), death, murder, threats of harm, Mentions of Suicide, Depression, More to be added.

Enjoy...y/n.

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"Come on! You have to try it! I searched all over for this game for you!"

You felt awful a bit.

(B/F/N) had come back from a trip she went on and handed you a switch cartridge. You had told her not worry about you when she left, and that she didn't have to get you anything. But, her being the best friend in the whole wide world.

She brought you back an Otome game.

She had gotten you into them at first, sucking you in with The NIFLHEIM and Obey Me: One Master to Rule Them All.

They were fun. The storylines were moving, the artwork was great and the characters were lovable!

So when she held this new one in front of you, you had a feeling this one was going to become your new obsession.

It was based off of the anime Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, an anime that you loved to sit down and watch. You found it entertaining that no matter what, foolishness seemed to follow the Joestar Bloodline. So you were excited to play this game based around it.

“Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure…Love is Unbreakable. Hey, it's a play on one of the season’s names too!” (B/F/N) says and you nodded along. You turned the box over on the back to read the description.

‘Play along as your own character in the different stories from the hit Series Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure! Help Jonathan Defeat Dio in Phantom Blood, Fight alongside Joseph in Battle Tendency, or even Join Jotaro and his friends to defeat DIO once again in Stardust Crusaders! Fall for your favorite Joestars and who knows! Maybe they’ll fall for you too~’

“I’m probably gonna stay up late playing this tonight..”

“Well, Don’t let me stop you! I just wanted to stop this by! I still have to go unpack!” (B/F/N) gave you a kiss on the cheek and a big hug before leaving out. 

You grabbed your switch and decided to head to your room to start up your new game.

—---------------------------------------------------

You placed your switch on the dock and watched as the screen lit up, seeing the several characters zoom across the screen before the title screen popped up. 

You smiled as you pressed start.

A pretty woman character popped up on the screen. She had pretty sky blue hair with swirly green/blue eyes, she had freckles and pretty mocha brown skin. She seemed to be staring off before ‘noticing’ you.

“Oh Hello! Welcome, Welcome, Welcome!!! My name is Melody Musik! Welcome to Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure: Love is Unbreakable!”

She was bright and bubbly, she must be an OC of the creator of this game. She surely followed the JJBA character style to a tea, dressed to stand out in a crowd.

“What is your name?” Her voice was sweet, you hurriedly typed in your name and you watched as her eyebrows furrowed together before her smile returned.

[Please Insert your name]

…….Y/N…L/N……...

“Your name is Y/n, Correct?”

[Yes]<   [No]

“Such a pretty name! Now, Pick your story line~!”

[When you pick your storyline, it will be a special version of the story. Please choose carefully as once you start, you won’t be able to choose another one!]

[Phantom Blood]

[Available routes: Jonathan Joestar, Dio Brando]

Join Jonathan as he goes about his life beside his evil adoptive brother Dio. Help Jonathan Defeat Dio or either Join Dio and reject your humanity.

[Battle Tendency]

[Available routes: Joseph Joestar, Kars]

Join Joseph, the descendant of Jonathan and Erina as he comes over to the states. Follow him as he defeats Straizo and ends up with more than he can handle in the form of the Pilarmen. Will you defeat them? Or will you Join Kars in his quest to become the ultimate lifeform.

[Stardust Crusaders]

[Available routes: Jotaro, Joseph, DIO]

Time to Join Jotaro in saving his mom from DIO and his minions, Take a trip across Egypt and defeat the minions in his way. Will you stay alongside Jotaro or Will DIO persuade you to join him in his path to destroy the Joestars

[Diamond is Unbreakable]

[Available routes: Josuke, Jotaro,Joseph, Kira,}

Welcome to Morioh, 1999! There's a serial killer running around that you have to help find. Join Josuke and Jotaro as you try to figure out just who this killer is. Maybe the killer is in plain view. Or maybe he’s just a simple man who wants to live a simple life doing simple things.

[Vento Aureo]

[Available routes: Giorno, Bruno, Doppio/Diavolo]

Dio has a kid?! Join Giorno as he travels through the ranks of the mafia to defeat the boss of passione, the most powerful mob in Italy to become a Gang-Star. But, the boss may have his eyes on you. Be careful of who’s around you.

You stared as Melody explained each plot line and how you would fit into it. She pointed to each one and showed the available routes and the ‘difficulty’ level of the romanceable characters.

“Of course all the villains are hard…but that's not going to stop me!” You say excitedly and it was almost like Melody was giggling at you. You brushed it off as she continued to speak.

“Oh and don’t worry! I’ll be alongside you in every story! If you ever want to know something  or you get stuck!” She smiles at you and shows the various looks that she’ll have between each series. From having her own ancestors in Parts 1 and 2, to being similar to Jotaro and being in 3, 4 and 5. 

Though you kept getting the feeling that Melody was something more, you got a little Doki Doki Literature Club or John Doe type vibes from her.

“Tch. I doubt this game is going to be sentient. If so I would feel so bad for you Melo.” You said giving the tutorial character a nickname. You could’ve sworn you saw her blush and avert her eyes, before quickly returning to her idol animation.

“So! What are you going to choose?”

{I Choose This Route} : [1] [2]

[Phantom Blood] [Jonathan/Dio]

[“I can’t bear to lose you, We have to defeat Dio!’]

{I Choose This Route} : [1] [2]

[Battle Tendency] [Joseph/Kars]

[“I predict that you’re gonna say: Of Course Joseph I’ll Join you!”]

{I Choose This Route} : [1] [2]

[Stardust Crusaders] [Jotaro/Joseph/DIO]

[“Yare,Yare…be careful. I care about you too, you know.”]

{I Choose This Route} : [1] [2]

[Diamond Is Unbreakable] [Josuke/Jotaro/Kira]

[“Hey! Let’s play some games after this. Chasing killers is stressful”]

{I Choose This Route} : [1] [2]

[Vento Aureo] [Giorno/Bruno/Diavolo]

[“I, Giorno Giovanna, Have a dream. And I want you to be a part of my dream.]

{I Choose This Route} : [1] [2] [3]

[???] [Melo]

[“H-hey! Y/n You have to help me!! I’m just like yo-]

[] . [Next]

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©jotarosblkwifey 2023

----------------------------------------------------

Hi everyone! I hope you enjoyed this intro! I plan on trying to get each route out at least once a week! Each Route will have 2 parts and all of them lead up to the special secret route at the end!

I hope you enjoy~ Currently working on route one as we speak!

[saved-fanfiction]

Fuck Up the Friendship

You have been friends with Jotaro for a long time, but after a weird night of partying, it seems things may change.

Read on AO3 here

WARNING THERE IS EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD 18+ ONLY

WARNINGS FOR :

Partying, drinking, fingering, oral sex, couch sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Jean Pierre Polnareff knew how to throw a damn party.

It was nearing four in the morning, and you knew it was time to head home. After a long night of drinking, dancing, and debauchery, your body was beginning to feel exhausted. Despite the late hour, Polnareff’s house was still full, with everyone else starting to look just as tired as you felt. The host himself seemed as if he still had the energy to go, laughing heartily as he walked around and tried to talk to everyone.

You were leaning against the hall in the entryway, trying to figure out how to get home. Driving was definitely out of the question, with alcohol still lingering in your system. Uber could work, but would you be able to find a driver this late . . .? You could spend the night - Polnareff was one of your closest friends, and you knew you could trust him. But you wanted to sleep in your own bed and prepare yourself for the inevitable hangover that would be waiting for you in a few hours.

A deep voice pulled you from your thoughts, causing you to look up.

“You good?”

Jotaro Kujo, another one of your close friends in the same group as Polnareff, stepped into the hallway. A cigarette hung loosely from his full lips that were pulled slightly down in annoyance. He had removed his trademark hat earlier, his dark hair slightly messy with a few loose curls framing his face. A pair of ocean blue eyes framed by long, dark lashes studied you intensely. Your eyes roamed his face, taking in the familiar shape of his sharp jaw that ended with his strong chin.

He raised an eyebrow at you before speaking again.

“Are you that fucking drunk?”

You shook your head.

“No, just tired. It’s been a long night.”

As if on cue you let out a long yawn. Jotaro shook his head, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

“I’m trying to figure out how to get home,” you sheepishly admitted. “I just might end up crashing here.”

Jotaro frowned, his fingers twitching around the cigarette.

“Don’t be fucking stupid. I’ll drive you home.”

Your eyes went wide and you began to shake your head.

“No, it’s okay! It’s late, you should be getting home too.”

“You don’t live that far from me, plus I’m sober as fuck. Let’s go.”

He walked past you, stopping a few feet in front to glance at you over his shoulder.

“Well? I’m not going to wait for you.”

“Coming!”

The night air was cool and crisp, sobering you up further. Jotaro continued to walk ahead of you, hands tucked into the pockets of his bomber jacket. While the two of you were pretty close, you always felt bad whenever he did a favor or something nice for you. A part of it was because Jotaro was very serious and unreadable, and you always felt like you were a nuisance to him whenever he helped you out.

The other part was because you had a huge crush on him.

Sighing, you pushed the thought away as you approached his car. Jotaro had parked down the block, a sleek Audi sedan that roared to life as you got closer. He opened the passenger door for you, watching as you slid in before closing the door and crossing to the driver’s side. It was silent for a moment as he buckled up, turning his head to look at you.

“Do you need a water or something?”

“No, I’m good, thanks,” you smiled.

Nodding, he shifted the car into drive and began heading in the direction towards your place. Whenever you drove with him it was usually quiet, but tonight felt . . . different. There was a tension in the air that you couldn’t quite explain, and you wondered if Jotaro felt it too. Your mind replayed the lyrics of a song that had played while you had danced earlier.

Are you going to kiss me?

‘Cause you’re taking me home

It’s four in the morning

Are we doing this wrong?

You swallowed nervously, turning your head to stare out the window.

“What’s wrong?”

Jotaro’s gruff voice startled you, causing you to jump.

“What?”

“You’re acting weird.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks and you looked away again. Your mind rushed back to earlier that night, when your friend group had gotten together after making your social rounds. Polnareff was happy, red cup in hand as he clinked it against Norioki Kakyoin. Kakyoin was the Mom of your group but he knew to let loose when necessary. The two turned to Muhammed Avdol, the oldest in the group but the most laid back. They clinked their cups before turning to you and Jotaro.

“Cheers! I love you guys!” Polnareff explained.

Laughing, you clinked your cup before taking a long drink. You felt a heavy arm wrap around your shoulder and turned in time to see Polnareff standing beside you. A lecherous grin was on his face, and you knew what was coming next.

“Will tonight be the night that you finally give me a chance?”

Polnareff had a reputation as a huge flirt and a bit of a ladies’ man. Ever since the two of you had known each other, he had never gotten tired of making a pass at you and asking to give him a chance. You always rolled your eyes at him, saying that you were just friends and that you didn’t want to mess your group up. Polnareff would just sigh dramatically before exclaiming in French that he would simply try again before finding another girl to bug.

This time, however, you were feeling a little flirty so you leaned into him, batting your lashes over the rim of your cup.

“Maybe tonight will be the night you get lucky, Polnareff.”

He grinned while Kakyoin and Avdol whooped.

“Don’t get my hopes up, baby. I promise you won’t regret giving me a chance.”

You laughed as you nudged him with your shoulder.

“Oh? I hope that’s a promise you can keep.”

He laughed, kissing your cheek before stepping away and announcing he had to be a good host and check on everyone. Before he left, he gave you one last look and a wink.

“You know where to find me. I’ll be waiting.”

Kakyoin shook his head while Avdol gave you a knowing look.

“You’re going to break the poor man’s heart if you don’t deliver,” Kakyoin said.

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll surprise you all tonight.”

Avdol let out a long whistle.

“Who are you, and what have you done with our best friend?” he asked.

You turned to look at Jotaro to crack a joke but immediately went quiet. Normally his face was impassive and, well, bored, but he looked . . . upset. He was scowling, shaking his head so subtly you wouldn’t have noticed unless you stared at him. You opened your mouth to ask him what was wrong but he left, simply saying he needed a drink and walking off.

“Someone’s panties are in a bunch,” Avdol mused.

“He better not be pissy!” Kakyoin complained. “I need him on his A game when we play beer pong!”

You glanced towards the direction where Jotaro had stalked off to before sighing. Maybe he just needed a minute? Avdol called your name and the three of you fell into conversation. After some time, Kakyoin announced that he was ready for beer pong and asked if you could find Jotaro.

“I need my beer pong partner!” he exclaimed as he pushed you towards Jotaro’s direction.

You wandered Polnareff’s house, saying hi to a few familiar faces but not finding Jotaro. Maybe he’s outside smoking? Frowning, you were about to head outside but decided to fill up your cup. When you stepped in, you spotted Jotaro in the corner of the kitchen, standing there as he watched people shuffle in and out. As you approached him, you saw the scowl from before returning to his face.

“Hey, Kakyoin’s looking for you.”

He didn’t respond - he simply pushed off the counter and brushed past you back towards where you had been before. Blinking, you wondered what had put him in a bad mood.

“What is something I said?” you muttered to yourself.

When you returned to your friends, Jotaro and Kakyoin had begun a match against Avdol and Polnareff. You stood in the middle, cheering and encouraging them. Polnareff seemed to have been bolstered by your previous flirting, as he was showing off while throwing the ball. His confidence seemed to affect his game, as he was doing much better than he normally did.

“Okay, Polnareff, I see you!” you teased.

He winked at you before making another shot. While he high fived Avdol, you turned to look at Jotaro and Kakyoin.

“You boys better catch up!”

Kakyoin nodded, taking a long swig of his drink. Jotaro seemed to ignore you, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette and lighting up. You tried not to frown as you slowly looked back at Polnareff and Avdol. Jotaro’s mood didn’t seem to lift for the rest of the night, so you were surprised when he offered to drive you home. It seemed as if he had disappeared into the crowds after losing the match, so you had been surprised when he appeared in the hallway.

“You into Polnareff?”

Your head whipped around to stare at him with wide eyes.

“Uh, what?”

Jotaro’s eyes were focused on the road in front, seemingly unbothered by his own question.

“You heard me.”

Blinking at him, you waited for him to say he was joking but he didn’t. You couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out of your mouth.

“Are you sure you’re not the one who’s drunk?”

He scowled, eyes still staring straight ahead.

“I wouldn’t be driving you if I was.”

You crossed your arms and quirked an inquisitive brow at him.

“Where is this coming from?”

He ignored your question.

“So you like him or not?”

“Why are you asking me?” you pressed.

He shrugged, still avoiding eye contact with you.

“You were just extra flirty with him tonight. Normally you push him off.”

Your mind flashed back to the annoyed look on his face after you had joked around with Polnareff earlier. He had walked off after seeing the interaction . . .

Laughing again, you shook your head.

“God, no. He’s just a friend, but he’s also a bit of a manwhore.”

Jotaro snorted, his eyes flicking to yours quickly from their corners.

“Yeah, you got that right.”

You laughed again, shaking your head.

“So to answer your question, no, I’m not into Polnareff. I was just feeling a little flirty tonight, so I just went with it.”

He gave a slow nod.

“Okay.”

Glancing out the window, you realized you were nearing your apartment. Curiosity tugged at you after hearing his question.

“Why did you ask?”

“Huh?”

“The question,” you frowned. “Why did you ask if I like Polnareff?”

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. You watched him for a minute, waiting for him to speak. After a moment he let out a deep breath, angling his head towards yours slightly.

“It just bothered me, that’s all.”

Your eyes went wide again.

“Uh, what?”

He shrugged again, his fingers loosening slightly around the wheel.

“I just didn’t like the way you were talking to him like that.”

“Is it because he’s in our friend group?”

“Something like that.”

You opened your mouth to ask another question but quickly snapped it shut. Instead you turned back towards the window, processing his statement. Why did it bother him? You knew you were all close friends, and the thought of you pursuing any of them never crossed your mind. Despite your crush on Jotaro, you knew that it would ruin the dynamic you had in your group so you pushed the thought aside.

So was Jotaro bothered because of this dynamic? Did he not want to see two of his close friends coupled up? It made sense, you knew Jotaro and Polnareff spent a lot of time together outside of your group hangouts, and the thought of you breaking that up made his question make sense.

However, a part of you, a small, hopeful part, wondered if he had asked because the reason it bothered him was because he wanted you. He didn’t want Polnareff to pursue you and be successful, he wanted it to be him. You subtly shook your head. Jotaro didn’t like you that way, and you assumed he probably never would.

The two of you finally arrived at your apartment. Jotaro parked in an empty spot on the street, turning the engine off and turning to look at you.

“You have keys, right?”

“Of course I do!” you frowned.

He chuckled, opening his door.

“I’m going to walk you up. It’s really late, I don’t want some random creep to grab you or something.”

You opened your door and followed him towards the entrance of your apartment. Fumbling with your small bag, you rummaged and found your keys. Jotaro waited patiently as you fiddled with the key ring until you found the key for the front gate. He held the gate open for you and walked alongside you. It wasn’t the first time that he had come over, but this time felt . . . different.

“You didn’t have to walk me,” you said. “My building is pretty safe.”

“You have a creepy neighbor,” he pointed out.

“I do?”

He nodded, not saying anything further. The two of you kept on until you reached the elevator and went up to the third floor. You made sure you had the key for your door as you rode up, and Jotaro continued to walk quietly alongside you until you came to a stop in front of the door.

“Well, this is me.”

“I know,” he mused. “I’ve been here before.”

You hesitated, shuffling awkwardly in front of him.

“Um, do you want to come in? You can crash if you want.”

Although you lived alone, you had an extra bedroom that served as a guest bedroom. You always told the boys they had a place to stay if an emergency arose or if they partied too hard. None of them had taken you up on your offer, but you wondered if Jotaro would accept.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, smiling up at him.

“Yeah, it’s late. Plus, you’ve already done enough by driving me home. Come in and spend the night.”

Jotaro nodded and muttered okay under his breath. You opened the door and stepped aside so he could enter. While you wandered about and began flicking on lights, he carefully slid off his shoes and sat on the couch. You poured a glass of water for each of you and placed one on the coffee table.

“I’ll go get the guest room set up.”

He didn’t say anything as you walked down the hallway. You began occupying yourself with tidying up the room, and your mind began to drift. A part of you was nervous that Jotaro was here, in your home, late at night, and about to sleep here.

This shouldn’t be weird, he’s your friend.

You wandered into the bathroom and began pulling toiletries out for Jotaro. Memories of your entire friendship played in your head, and you slowly began realizing that maybe your crush was more than that. The two of you had met in high school freshman year, and he had protected you the entire time. The rest of the boys had done so as well, but Jotaro had been the most aggressive with guarding you.

When you graduated and moved onto college, the two of you often had study dates together. Kakyoin would occasionally join, but it was mostly you and Jotaro. There had been a few times where the two of you had been teased about all the time you spent together, but you had brushed it off. Jotaro had never said anything, his face impassive every single time.

Now, two years after college and living as functional adults, you spent the most time with Jotaro. He often accompanied you when you ran mundane errands or when you wanted to go for dinner with someone. He listened to you talk endlessly about your job or even your dating life.

Had he done so because he saw you as more than a friend?

Your mind was spinning as you stepped back into the living room. Jotaro was still sitting on the couch, his head tipped back and resting against the couch cushion. His eyes were closed, his face relaxed as he breathed deeply. You carefully settled beside him, and upon feeling the couch dip his eyes slowly opened.

“Was the room a mess or something?”

You laughed, shaking your head.

“No, I’ve never had a guest.”

Jotaro didn’t say anything. Sucking in a breath, your body moved on instinct before your mind could process what was going on. Your mouth was on him instantly, hands gripping the front of his shirt. You half-expected him to push you off, but instead his mouth moved furiously against yours. His hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer to him.

You tried to settle on his lap but you felt his large hands let go of your hair and settle on your waist. His body began to move, hovering over your much smaller one and pushing you towards the opposite end of the couch. Your back pressed against the back of the couch, one hand coming up to cup his face. One of Jotaro’s hands settled on the armrest of the couch, grabbing onto it to steady himself as he continued to kiss you hungrily.

When you pulled back, his light eyes were dilated, staring at you with hooded lids.

“I think I like you,” you blurted out.

A huff of air left his nose as he chuckled, his free hand grabbing the back of your neck.

“Fuck, finally.”

You pulled back to look at him.

“Wait, are you being serious?”

This time he barked out a laugh.

“I wouldn’t be making out with you right now if I wasn’t into you.”

He leaned in closer, his eyes searching your face for a moment before he spoke.

“Let me take care of you tonight. Fuck, I’ve wanted this so much.”

You nodded, settling back into the couch. He reached behind him to grab a pillow and placed it on the armrest so you could lay comfortably. Smiling up at him, you watched as he squeezed himself into your side and leaned in to kiss you again. His hands reached between your legs to grab them, helping you to spread them as one hand grabbed at the waistband of your shorts.

“Is this okay?” he breathed.

“Yes.”

He smoothly unbuttoned your shorts with one hand, unzipping them slowly before sliding them down your legs. They flew across the room, quickly discarded and forgotten. He seemed to hesitate a moment before his fingers teased your core. A shiver ran up your spine as his fingers pressed against your covered slit.

“God, you’re soaked. Did I do this to you, baby?”

You bit back a moan as you nodded.

His fingers moved your panties to the side. You shut your eyes and let out a surprised whimper as he kissed you. His tongue immediately slid into your mouth, tasting every part of it as his hands began rubbing circles against you. You reached down to keep your panties out of the way while the other awkwardly curled around him.

The living room was filled with the sound of your wet sounds, Jotaro keeping a steady pace. When he deemed you wet enough, his fingers pressed into you. You moaned into his mouth, his thick fingers stretching you in a way you had dreamed about. He removed them for a second before his thumb began rubbing your clit.

“I’m going to take care of you so good that you’ll never think about anyone else,” he growled into your ear.

You threw your head back against the pillow, moaning out his name as you felt your first orgasm of the night approach. His thumb kept on rubbing your clit while his other fingers pushed into you again, and the combination of both sensations had you finishing with a loud yell of his name. He withdrew his fingers as you came down from your high, panting as you felt your body become weightless.

 “Are you okay?”

“You are too good at this,” you managed to croak out.

He laughed, pulling himself away from you. Your eyes trailed down to the large bulge in his pants and you began reaching towards it. His hand immediately reached out to smack it away.

“I’m taking care of you, remember?”

You pouted, sitting up to gesture at his crotch.

“You deserve to get off too.”

“I’ll get off when I’m fucking you later.”

Noted.

Jotaro laid on the opposite side of the couch, mimicking your current position.

“Take the rest of your clothes off.”

His eyes never left your body as you took off your shirt and unclipped your bra. Once you were naked, his arms reached out for you.

“Come sit on my lap.”

You crawled towards him and straddled his lap. His hands reached out to adjust you, and it took you a moment to realize he was getting you to sit on his face.

“Jo-Jotaro -”

“Relax.”

He slid down on the couch so he was able to lift his head and shoulders. His legs were bent, allowing you to lean back against them. Your hands reached between them to keep yourself upright as your body slid down until your core was close to his mouth. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you closer until his mouth was hot on you.

“F-fuck, Jotaro!” you gasped out.

You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm. Every time his tongue pressed against your clit your body jolted, the pleasure so intense it was bordering on painful. Your body moved away on instinct but his strong grip kept you in place. When you jerked away for the third time, he pulled away and slapped your cunt.

“Keep moving and watch what happens.”

You whimpered, nodding slowly. He watched you for a second before resuming eating you out. Scrunching your eyes shut, you took a deep breath as you urged your body to relax. You focused on the feeling of his tongue moving against you, tasting you as if he had never eaten a meal in his life and was starving. The pleasure began to reach a threshold but you forced yourself to push through it.

However, after a few moments, the pleasure turned into something that was scary and unfamiliar.

“W-wait, Jotaro,” you gasped out.

He shook his head, mouth moving with the movement. The feeling swelled, and for a moment you were afraid you were going to pee.

“J-Jotaro - oh!”

You came suddenly, body twitching as you felt something slip out of you. Jotaro kept on, giving you kitten licks until you sagged against him.

“I can’t believe I just made you squirt.”

“I what?!”

Lifting your head tiredly, heat rushed across your face at the sight of his glistening face. His own cheeks were flushed with arousal, eyes lidded as he watched you.

“You taste so good. I want to taste you more but I really need to fuck you now.”

Jotaro gently pushed you off his lap so he could undress himself. Your mouth watered at the sight of his shirtless form, tracing the muscles with your eyes until it ended at the dark happy trail that disappeared into his pants. He slowly unbuttoned his pants, sliding them down his long legs and kicking them off towards the floor. His erection strained against his briefs, the size both impressive and intimidating.

“I’ll take it slow, baby. Don’t look so worried.”

His briefs came off, revealing his large cock. You admired the neat patch of dark hair, reaching out to run a finger along it before tracing up his length. He shivered, hands coming back to settle on your hips.

“Get back on top.”

You obeyed, lifting your hips as you angled yourself over him. He stroked himself a few times, watching your face before he leaned in to kiss you gently. You felt your nervousness slipping away, and it gave you the courage to begin sliding down him.

The initial stretch had you gasping, leaning down to bury your head in the crook of his shoulder. His fingers dug deep into your hips, an intense way for him to ground himself in an effort to not buck up into you.

“You feel s-so good,” he croaked out.

You slid down another inch, a shiver wracking up your spine. Your hands clung onto his shoulders, using them to steady yourself as you took in another half-inch.

“Why are you so big?” you gasped out.

A low chuckle rumbled deep in his chest.

“Fuck, if you keep talking like that I won’t be able to hold myself back.”

Sucking in a breath, you kept sliding down, crying out when you felt yourself bottom out. Your ass rested against his thighs, which were shaking fiercely.

“Move,” you hissed out.

His hands gripped your hips and lifted them up. You gasped, feeling his hips thrust up at the same time. It took you a moment to realize that he was getting you to ride him, and you swiftly followed his guidance. His mouth pressed against your chest, his hot mouth opening to take a nipple into his mouth. The dual sensation of pleasure had your eyes shutting, and you threw your head back in ecstasy.

“Jotaro, I’m not going to last long,” you whined out.

“Me neither,” he admitted, his pace getting faster.

The speed that he was helping you to ride him was almost inhuman. Damn him and his immense strength, you thought, mouth dropping open. You felt yourself tightening around him, and you came with a high-pitched whine of his name. He followed immediately after, his hips thrusting up erratically into you as he came inside of you.

Your body felt boneless and you dropped against him. Gasping for breath, you wrapped your arms weakly around him. Jotaro nuzzled into your neck, his breaths hot as he regained his own breath.

“That was amazing,” you whispered weakly.

He carefully lifted you up, and you felt the sticky mess between your legs. He slid your bodies down the couch and adjusted you so you could rest against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat loud in your ear had your chest swelling with affection, and you curled deeper into him.

“Is it too late for me to say I think I like you too?”

You laughed tiredly, shaking your head.

“No, I think you made it quite obvious.”

[saved-fanfiction]

— jjba: first time making Jotaro Kujo whimper

characters: Jotaro Kujo (part 4), gender neutral reader

rating: mildly suggestive. MINORS DNI.

Imagine…

the first time you heard jotaro whimper it completely was unexpected. you had been dating only a short time and intimacy between the two of you had been rather lacking. he was never one for pda but even when you were alone with him he was sometimes still very reserved.

this night however you had been watching a nature documentary he had insisted you must see. of course it was about the ocean, what else would be so important to him. his strong arm was wrapped around you and you were against his broad chest, your head nestled in the crook of his neck.

the dolphins in the documentary were particularly playful and you exhaled a little giggle. your warm breath fanned across his neck. it was only for a split second but you could have sworn he tensed up. even his hand on your shoulder gripped you slightly. you blinked, surprised. had you imagined that? or was his neck very sensitive? it could have been a mere coincidence. soon your curiosity got the better of you. you waited for an opportunity to try out your theory.

soon the baby seal segment of the documentary came on and the moment the little seal scooted across the sand you purposely giggled again, your warm breath tickling jotaro’s neck. this time he merely turned his neck from side to side as if dealing with a painful tick but made no comment to you. internally you smiled to yourself realizing you might have come across a potential weakness in your beloved boyfriend. third time was the charm, right? resting one hand against his chest you tilted your head up and placed a soft kiss just below his ear.

“y/n…” his voice uncharacteristically soft and almost pleading.

you had never had him react in such a way so before he could murmur a word of protest you kissed his neck once more. this time you opened your mouth slightly. it was soft and lingering as you sucked on the sensitive skin a bit more….and he whimpered.

the whimper was unmistakable even with the sound of the documentary playing in the background.

you immediately looked up at him only to see his eyes were closed as his brows were furrowed together and he was biting his lip. you couldn’t wait to make him whimper again.

[saved-fanfiction]

Sung Jin-woo letting one of his shadows join? Only if it’s Igris. 

🔞mdni🔞

jinwoo x reader x igris

Warnings: nsfw, expletives, smut, threesome, would this be considered necrophilia? I sincerely hope not, anyways—oral, pnv, dom jin, just absolute filth, creampie—although questionable, throatpie, multiple forced orgasms, first persons pov, links attached for some visuals, i just wanna shoutout this tiktok

Part 2 — ‘the day I found out that Igris has a knot’

——

I can’t lie, whenever I watch Igris in action my heart thuds in my chest, hard. It’s just the way he carries himself that makes him seem…so human. But he’s a beast, and he became Jinwoo’s shadow by a split hair. 

It’s no secret that they’re both equally as powerful. 

Sometimes I let myself fantasize for a while. Let myself think that when he looks at me, he’s feeling the same way. That his heart is slamming into his ribs, just like mine—if he even has one. I can’t help but wonder, what’s under that mask? Or rather, 

Who’s under that mask? 

Jinwoo catapults across my field of vision, slamming into the wall of the training arena. Igris stalks towards him, sword at his side and cape flowing behind him. I watch his every move, his every strut. He glances over to me, staring down at me with a predatory gaze, checking on me. Well, that’s what I allow myself to believe, only for a second. I know where his loyalty lies. 

Regardless, my heart’s about to fly out of my fucking chest. 

Within seconds, Jinwoo regains his strength, getting back up to rejoin this… ‘spar’. His aggression is palpable, I can sense it from all the way over here in these four walls tucked behind this safety glass. Only Igris can bring out this side of him—it’s always a fair fight, after all. 

Well, almost. 

I always look away at this point. It always gets bad for Igris. But for some reason, I can’t today. I watch, eyes fixed to the scene unfolding before me. 

Jinwoo slams Igris into the ground, sending a rumble through the earth beneath me. The chair I’m seated in shakes, and I grip the table in front of me. Igris fades into black smoke under Jinwoo’s fist, and his glowing eyes snap up to meet mine, piercing into me with a threatening glare. 

Fuck. 

My core spasms. Suddenly I’m empty, and yearning for Jinwoo to make it better. He stands and walks through the residual mist that was once Igris, toward me. I swallow hard and reign in the ball of muscle trying to break through my ribcage.

His stare never falters, his eyes are anchored to me. I stand as I urge myself to hold it, to dominate it. But it’s too intimidating—he’s too intimidating. I look down, just for a brief second, showing my submission. And when I look back up…

He’s gone. 

I feel a gust of wind and Jinwoo’s voice growls my name behind me, his hot breath misting against my shoulder. I break out into a shiver, and I stumble back into him. He catches me, steadying me with his iron grip on my waist. 

“Jin—” 

“Igris has taken quite an interest in you.”

He cuts me short with a hint of aggression in his voice. My stomach drops. His fingers wander down my hips, to my thighs—under the hem of my skirt. He presses his lips against the shell of my ear. 

“I’m not quite sure if I like that.” 

“Wh-what do you mean?” I whisper, obviously unnerved. I feel his hard bulge press into me, and my pussy floods with heat. 

“I'm his master.” Jinwoo speaks a little too calmly, subtly tugging my skirt up, little by little. “I know his thoughts, his feelings. He takes a particular liking to your—hah, well, everything.” He yanks my skirt the rest of the way up in one swift, harsh move. “I mean, I do know the feeling.” 

What is he even saying? That Igris…feels something for me? I can barely think, much less focus on the words he’s speaking. Not when he’s thumbing at my soaked panty. 

“I didn’t know he could feel anything. He’s a shadow.” I say, breathless. 

“Yes, he is. But he still has his own…urges. Instincts.” He whispers quietly as he tugs my panties down my hips, letting them drop to my ankles. 

“Desires.” 

“R-Right.” I gasp and hold my breath in anticipation and my body tenses. 

He’s going to bend me over this table and fuck me. 

I swear I feel a gush between my legs, and suddenly my face is flush against the wooden table and his feet are kicking apart mine. My panty stretches between my ankles and he snakes his fingers around my throat. 

“Igris.” He summons his best shadow in a thick, dark voice, and Igris fabricates from a black mist in front of me, as if he didn’t just disappear. “Isn’t that right?” 

I look up from the table, only to be met by a suit of armor and his piercing gaze spearing down through me. Shit. He can see me…like this. With my panties at my ankles, bent over a piece of furniture. 

How embarrassing. 

I feel Jinwoo fiddle single handedly with the buckle of his belt, and then the button on his pants. His other hand maintains its searing grip on my throat and jaw, forcing me to meet Igris’s quiet gaze. I struggle to breathe and my eyes threaten to leak. 

My heart is going to explode. 

“See? He didn’t even respond. He has total control over himself.” His voice lowers into a whisper next to my face and I hear his zipper. “He actually wants to fuck you.” 

What? He—what? My eyes bulge wider, if it’s even possible, and I feel his cock notch at my slick opening.

So what, he’s forcing him to watch us? To teach him some sick lesson? 

Jinwoo must sense my unease, and he loosens his grip on my jaw and my head slumps back down to the table. But I’m still staring into the void of Igris’s eyes. He remains unmoving, eerily still in his stance with his sword sheathed on his back. 

“Caalm.” He draws out the word, letting his fingers just barely skate along the length of my spine.

My back arches and I roll onto the tips of my toes to present my pussy to him. Pathetic. I almost hate how wet and ripe I am for him. He hasn’t even looked me in the eye yet. 

“We’re not doing anything you don’t want.” Jin-woo’s hand trails up to grip my throat once more, and he hunches over me until his lips are next to my ear again. 

“Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” 

Jin-woo breaches me with exigency, in one hard thrust of his hips. I let out a whimper and try to stay on my toes as I frantically adjust to his thick cock inside me. 

“I see the way you look at him.” He growls as he presses a harsh kiss onto my jaw. 

He knows. And he’s teaching me a lesson, too. 

“I…I don’t.” I can’t find my voice to tell my lie, especially when I’m doing it now—staring at Igris while his master is inside me. 

Jin-woo lets out a low, wicked chuckle, and his hand tightens on my throat. Igris moves just a millimeter, as if he were about to let himself react to his master's slender fingers wrapped around my neck. 

But he holds himself firm, head ever so slightly tilted down as he takes in the sight beneath him. The sight of my quivering, glossy eyes peering up at him, and my flushed, swollen lips glistening with a layer of spit. 

“Careful, Igris.” Jinwoo warns his subordinate. “We’re not in the arena anymore. You might hurt her if you retaliate here.” He unleashes me from his grip, allowing me to take an unobstructed breath. 

“He’s not a fan of my hand around your throat.” Jin-woo whispers into my ear, and pulls out of me suddenly, leaving me empty and aching. 

“I won’t hurt her. She’s mine, remember?” Jinwoo speaks nonchalantly, as if he were stating a fact. Reassuring Igris, yet at the same time reminding him that I’m his. I can sense Igris tense—he feels like a ball of kinetic energy, ready to burst. 

Jinwoo’s cock prods at me again, and I ready myself for the impact of his thrust. I know it’s going to be brutal. He slams into me with a ruthless smack, making the table beneath me topple onto two legs. My fingers grip onto its corners as I bite my cheek to stifle the moan threatening to rip from my throat. 

“Mine to fuck.” Jin-woo growls, and there’s a possessive tone to his voice. He wraps my hair around his fist and yanks my head back. Now I’m forced to stare directly at him. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” 

That damn question again. He wants me to say it to his face. To make it clear that he owns me and my pussy.

“Yes.” I just barely whisper and feel him ram into me again. “Fuck!” 

Igris takes a step toward me, his stare trained down on me. He’s so close to me now, and I’m eye level with his armored crotch. Blood rushes to my face and Jinwoo hisses behind me. 

“Soon.” Jinwoo snaps, using the grip he has on my hair to hold me firm as he immediately sets a relentless pace, fucking into me with a vengeance.

“Soon? W-what’s ha-ppening soon?” My voice bounces from his incessant thrusts, and I’m so fucking overwhelmed. 

“Igris wants his turn.” Jinwoo growls. 

His…turn?

My heart lunges out my chest, and I’m pushed closer towards the edge. The image of Igris actually fucking me is almost too much to handle. If he were to fuck me…oh god. I’m going to cum from just the thought. 

“Jinwoo, wait. I—” I moan softly as my legs tremble and my pussy grips his cock. Fuck, I’m going to come already. And Igris is going to watch it happen. “Please, s-slower—or, or, I’m going to—haah—gonna!” 

“Yeah? Already?” He huffs, letting his hips snap into me repeatedly, fucking me like he’s angry with me. “Just from the mere thought of my shadow fucking your needy little pussy?”

“N-No!” I deny the truth through a tiny, pathetic cry, fixating on the sight directly in front of me.

The armor guarding Igris’s most prized possession looks tight. 

“Show her your face.” Jin-woo orders quickly, huffing and puffing as he ruts into me. 

Igris obeys, taking off his helmet and letting it fall to the ground with a clank. I crane my neck to look up at him and I’m met with glowing red eyes.

Hungry, scarred, red eyes, staring down at me like he wants to wreck me.

His hair flows down past his shoulders, a stark white with silver highlights. Christ, he’s more gorgeous than I ever imagined. 

And I'm coming…to his face. 

“Fu-uck.” I whine shakily and watch Igris’s eyes widen and his angular jaw tense. 

“Oh fuck, she’s cumming on my cock, Igris.” Jinwoo grunts and fucks me through every spasm that ripples through me. I writhe and squirm underneath his grip and my eyes fill to the brim with hot tears. “Don’t you wanna feel that?” 

Igris’s gaze snaps to Jinwoo’s, and the answer to that question is written all over his beautiful face. 

“Shadow exchange.” Jinwoo growls under his breath. 

Within moments, Igris fades to black and before me stands the menace himself—the shadow monarch—huge cock in hand with his ominous, glowing eyes shooting freshly sharpened daggers into me. 

Then I feel it. A delicious stretch. My still throbbing cunt desperately tries to adjust to Igris’s fat cock. He’s inside me. He’s really fucking inside me. Fuck, it’s so thick and big that I could cry. I really might fucking cry. 

I let out a wobbly whimper and force myself to keep still, if I move I think I’ll split open. All I can do is peer up into the luminous eyes that look back down at me with contempt, as I beg him to do something. 

“Oh my god. J-Jin. Jinwoo.” I chitter through my teeth and my tears of disbelief finally stain my cheeks. “Jin-woo, he’s really i-inside me.”

“Impressive, mm?” He grunts, breathing heavily. He cups my chin, pads of his fingers sinking into my damp cheeks. He tsks, and a slight smirk tugs at his lips. “I want to be inside you too, darling.” 

Jinwoo drives his thumb and pointer finger into my jaw bone, forcing my mouth open. He gives himself a few sloppy strokes before swiping his swollen tip on my lips as if it were lipstick, coating them in my own cum. 

“Tongue.” He demands through a breathless groan, and my tongue instinctively darts out, tasting myself on him. 

I’m sweet. 

“That’s my good girl.” Jin-woo grins, his thumb rubbing my cheek tenderly like some sort of twisted praise.

His attention turns to his second in command, and he takes in the sight of him mounted to me. His cock twitches against my tongue, and my mouth reflexively closes around his mushroomy head. 

“Hnng—she’s incredible, isn’t she?” Jinwoo sounds so smug, and for the first time, I hear Igris grunt. “Fuck her good, Igris.” 

The force of his first thrust litters my vision with stars, and it pushes me further down onto Jinwoo’s cock all at once. Jinwoo takes an intentional breath to stifle a groan and begins balling my hair into his fist. 

My clit definitely has its own fucking heartbeat. 

Igris begins thrusting in and out of me like a starved man, shoving himself as deep as my tiny body will allow him. His movements are incessant, laced with desperation. Like he’s been waiting—wanting to do this for a long, long time. He’s fucking into me like he’s never fucked a pussy in his life and the thought of that likely being the truth is making this even hotter. 

“Shit, I don’t even need to fuck your throat.” Jinwoo huffs with a smile and stands still, proving his point. “He’s fucking you so hard that your throat is riding my cock.”

Tears stream down my face and my head feels like it’s full of cotton. Am I even breathing? I test it out and hear a gurgling noise that I can only assume came from  me. Jinwoo pulls out of me, holding my head in the air and I hear myself heave a loud breath. 

“Don’t pass out on us, sweetheart.” Jinwoo’s dark voice echoes and I feel him tap my cheek a few times with his cock. “Come on, you can take us both. Right?”

He slowly sinks his cock down my throat again, inch by inch. I gag and my eyes water, because while he’s doing that, Igris is ramming him into the back of my throat repeatedly. 

It’s all too much. 

I shake my head and tap Jin’s thigh, and he yanks out of me and I gasp for air. He strokes himself fast, with his hips thrusted into the air and his core flexed. He groans low and long, watching me. Watching us.

“Make her cum.” He speaks quickly, stroking himself harder. Igris pounds into me at a frightening rate and I feel the coil in my core suddenly snap. I let out a filthy moan, loud and languid, from the back of my fucked out throat. “She’s gonna come, Igris.” 

I am. I fucking am. 

“I’m—I’m cummi—”

Jinwoo stuffs his cock back down my throat with an urgency, hunching over me and fucking my throat like it’s a pussy. His hand snakes down my belly, and his finger barely swipes my pulsing clit. His ghost touch sends me over the edge and I cum so. fucking. hard. My pussy throbs so bad that Igris groans like a dying man and ruts me harder. 

“Oh fuck, baby. Yes.” Jinwoo moans, giving me one brutal thrust before emptying himself down my throat.

He grunts from the bottom of his stomach and he holds me for what feels like an eternity on his pulsating cock before tugging me off of him. I cough and sputter, swallowing between sorry attempts at taking a breath. 

“Granted.” Jinwoo catches his own breath, and I can’t even speak to ask him what he’s allowing Igris to do to me now. He leans down, caressing my face and brushing my sweaty hair away from my pleading eyes. He plants a tender kiss on my ear and as he pulls away he whispers to me.

“Igris wants permission to breed you. That’s okay, right darling?”

Jin-woo takes a step back and I call for him with my hoarse voice. But he only grins and uses his stealth to fade into thin air, seemingly leaving me alone with the knight commander Igris—the blood red. I feel his metal arm wrap over my chest and his hand grip my shoulder to gain purchase. 

“I-Igris.” I nervously and directly acknowledge him for the first time in this entire interaction. “Ple-ase…” 

He growls and pulls me off the table and into his hard exterior. My toes cramp from trying to stay on my feet but he’s way too big and I feel myself lifting off the ground. He wraps his other hand around my waist and supports me with ease, fucking me mid-air. I claw at his armour and my legs kick and cross but I’m trapped in his undying grasp. 

“Holy shit…Igris!” I cry out, frantic. “Hold on!”  

Igris’s rhythm goes sloppy, and he’s trying to force as much of himself inside me as he possibly can. He’s trying to kill me, not breed me. A high pitched squeal splits my quivering lips and I kick a little harder—entirely too overwhelmed and overstimulated. 

“T-Too deep! You’re too deep!” My tears stream down my cheeks yet my pummeled pussy weeps for more. 

“You’re okay, my princess.” Igris’s deep voice hurls me into my third orgasm and I go limp in his grip, completely dissolving into the pleasure of his cock filling every possible part of me.

He cums with a gruff shout, tightening his arms around me as he stays inside me, stuffing me with cum until I’m queasy. 

My vision splits and fades to black and his grip on me fades with it. I hear a hushed sound and feel myself falling. I’m about to slam into the floor. I brace for impact in my fizzled brain yet I don’t feel the hard, cold tile. Rather, a warmth envelopes me, cradling me as I blubber and fail to set any breathing pattern, much less a steady one.

“Shh-shh. Breathe. You did so well, baby.” It’s Jinwoo’s voice, cooing at me, and he holds me close to his warm chest. “You were such a good girl for us.” 

[saved-fanfiction]

I know you said you have a hard time writing him, but can I request something with Sanji? I really love your enemies to lovers dynamic in your Zoro fic, so maybe something like that? Can you make it spicy too? just something short pretty please!

(No stress if you don't want to)

-💙

Anon!!! Now I don't know if I made this man justice! I'm sorry it took so long! I really tried my best!! I got a little carried away, so this isn't really something short anymore... BUT I hope you'll like it 💕 I'm also tired and didn't proofread this as much as I should have!

I Hate Flirts

Sanji x Female Reader

wc: 2.6k

warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, enemies to lovers, smut, oral, p in v sex

To say your first impression of the cook, as you first joined the Straw Hat Pirates, was bad was one hell of an understatement. You weren’t a fan of pretty boys, and most of all, you weren’t a fan of flirts. 

Hell, you hated flirts.

When Luffy had introduced you to the crew, you’d tried to put on your best smile. Everyone seemed nice enough—Zoro, with his comfortable demeanor; Nami, who welcomed you with a knowing smile; Usopp and Chopper, who were immediately friendly. 

And then there was Sanji.

He’d approached you with that cheeky smile, a bouquet of flowers seemingly conjured out of thin air. “For the beautiful new member of our crew,” he’d said, taking your hand and kissing it with far too much charm.

You’d yanked your hand back, not being able to keep the sneer breaking on your lips at the gesture. “Don’t do that,” you snapped almost immediately.

It’d been entirely reactionary and the guilt you felt at the hurt in his eyes only served to widen the rift you’d created.

Sanji’s grin had faltered, just for a moment, before he replaced it with an exaggerated bow. “As you wish, mademoiselle. But my admiration knows no bounds.”

Your eyes narrowed at his answer. Something about it irked you beyond comprehension.

From that moment on, it was war. Sanji flirted relentlessly, his attempts becoming more and more ridiculous as he tried to win you over. You, in turn, shot him down at every opportunity, sometimes with a sharp retort, most of the time with a well-placed punch to the shoulder.

Despite the ongoing one-sided battle, you couldn’t deny that Sanji excelled in many places. He fought well and in the boredom of the endless sea, the meals he prepared were a highlight of your day. After all, you most definitely had a taste for the finer things in life.

As his cooking slowly broke away your apprehension towards him, you started to grudgingly admire his dedication to his craft. There was something about the way he moved in the kitchen, all precision and passion, that you couldn’t help but respect… Not that you’d ever admit that to him.

The rest of the crew found your dynamic endlessly entertaining. Nami would give you knowing looks, Zoro would snicker behind his sake, and Luffy, bless his heart, was just happy to have another person on board.

Despite everything, you had to admit the cook had his moments.

You weren’t sure what had taken you over but one extremely boring afternoon, your feet mindlessly brought you to the kitchen. Just as expected Sanji was there, elbow deep in preparations.

You leaned against the doorframe, quietly observing as he twirled the knife in his hands, as he chopped at a speed that was lightning-fast. “Need any help?” The words left your mouth before your mind could register them.

Sanji looked up, surprise clear on his features but a certain pleased glimmer filled his eyes. “A lady—“ he started to protest, the words dying on his lips as he saw your expression start to shift. “I-I’d love the help,” he muttered uncertainly instead.

You stepped into the kitchen, rolling up your sleeves as you moved to stand beside him. The countertop was cluttered with various ingredients, a testament to the elaborate meal he was undoubtedly preparing.

“What can I do?” you asked, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

Sanji handed you a knife and a cutting board. “Can you, uh, chop these vegetables? Uniform pieces, please.”

You took the knife from him, noting the gentle brush of his fingers against yours. Ignoring the slight warmth that spread through you, you focused on the task at hand. As you worked, the kitchen filled with the rhythmic sound of chopping, accompanied by the occasional clatter of pots and pans.

“Not bad,” Sanji commented, peeking at your progress. “You’ve got a good hand for this.”

“Surprised?” you shot back with a coy smirk, your tone teasing.

He laughed. “Maybe a little. You never struck me as the domestic type.”

You couldn’t help the soft chuckles that passed your lips. “I’m not,” you admitted. “But I have picked up a few skills along the way.” Your gaze was distant for a moment. “There’s nothing like good food and an excellent bottle of wine.” You punctuated your statement with a fancy twirl of your knife.

“Good wine, huh?” He said, curiosity piqued. 

“Oh the things I would do for a good Cabernet and dark chocolate,” you mused dreamily.

Sanji’s eyes lit up. “A fellow connoisseur? Now that’s something I didn’t expect!” He set down his own knife and looked at you with genuine interest. “What’s your favorite dish to pair with a good wine?”

You paused, contemplating your answer. “I’d say a rich beef bourguignon. The deep, savory flavors work perfectly with a full-bodied red.”

Sanji’s smile grew wider, an expression of pure delight. “You have excellent taste,” he said, clearly impressed. “How about you help me make that tonight? I’ve got some top-quality beef in the pantry.”

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. “You want to make bourguignon? Right now? What about all this?” You gestured at what you’d been chopping.

“Why not?” he replied, enthusiasm shining in his eyes. “It’s a perfect way to spend a boring afternoon, don’t you think? The prep can serve for tomorrow.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his infectious excitement. “Alright, let’s do it.”

For the next few hours, the two of you worked side by side, prepping ingredients and discussing various cooking techniques. Sanji’s knowledge of culinary arts was vast, and you found yourself genuinely enjoying his company. He was patient, guiding you through the more intricate parts of the recipe without a hint of condescension.

As the bourguignon simmered on the stove, filling the kitchen with a mouthwatering aroma, Sanji uncorked a bottle of red wine. “Here,” he said, pouring you a glass. “A little something to pass the time while we wait.”

You took the glass, savoring the rich, velvety flavor of the wine. “This is amazing,” you admitted, glancing at him. “Where did you get it?”

“A gift from a grateful villager,” he replied with a wink. “I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And making beef bourguignon with me counts as a special occasion?”

Sanji’s expression softened, a hint of sincerity shining through his usual flirtatious demeanor. “Every moment with you is special.”

You rolled your eyes, but this time, it was more out of habit than annoyance. “If you think this is getting you into my pants, think again,” you admonished though your tone remained playful.

He blushed and sputtered, choking on his sip of wine. 

Cute.

You smiled as you looked at him. It was the first time you’d seen this side of Sanji – the side that wasn’t really trying to win you over with charm and gifts, but simply being kind. You really looked at him for the first time. Maybe there was more to Sanji than the flirtatious exterior. Maybe, just maybe, he was worth getting to know beyond the playful banter.

As the weeks flowed, your dynamic shifted. Sanji’s flirtations became less over-the-top, more sincere. He still never missed an opportunity, but there was a gentleness to it now, a hint of genuine affection. And damn it, you found yourself responding in kind.

You weren’t sure when exactly it happened, but one day, you caught yourself laughing at one of his ridiculous flirting attempts. It was a real, deep and true laughter, the sound surprising both of you. Sanji’s eyes widened, a slow smile spreading across his face.

From that moment on, he craved to hear the cheerful din of your laughter again and again, especially when it was only for him.

One evening, as you mindlessly sipped a Cabernet with dark chocolate, you looked at him differently. As he hummed to himself, washing the dishes, you found yourself thinking this was nice. 

“You know, Sanji,” you started, munching on chocolate. “I think I wouldn’t mind it if you tried to get into my pants.”

Sanji nearly dropped the plate he was washing, turning to face you with wide eyes and a face quickly turning as red as the wine you were sipping. “W-What?” he stammered, clearly caught off guard.

You took another sip of your wine, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “You heard me,” you said casually, savoring the rich liquid. “I think I wouldn’t mind it. If you tried, that is.”

Sanji blinked, his usual suave demeanor momentarily replaced with genuine surprise and nervousness. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again, seemingly at a loss for words.

You chuckled softly, enjoying his flustered state. “Cat got your tongue, cook?”

You got up, slowly making your way to him. Your fingers traced his jaw as you looked at him through your lashes. “Unless I’m mistaken and you’re not interested. That’s fine too, I guess.”

Sanji swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously under your touch. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “No, no, you’re not mistaken,” he said, his voice a little shaky but sincere. “I’ve just… I’ve...”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Well then, in that case, you could kiss me,” you suggested, your voice soft and inviting.

Sanji’s eyes searched yours for a moment, as if making sure he wasn’t dreaming. Then, with a deep breath, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. The kiss was slow and sweet, filled with the promise of more to come.

Promises you didn’t want to wait for. 

You softly bit at his lower lip, asking for more. Sanji’s hesitation melted away as he responded to your encouragement, deepening the kiss with newfound confidence, His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as your lips moved in sync. His tongue met yours in a careful dance, the taste of chocolate, wine, and cigarettes mingling between you.

Time seemed to slow as you lost yourself in the moment, the gentle sway of the ship only adding to the intoxicating feeling. Your fists bunched in his shirt, then his hair, desire clear in the desperation of your movements. He stumbled forward, pinning you to the counter, your back arched and you wished you could melt into him more than physically possible. 

You pulled away slightly, breathless and dizzy with lust. “Does the door have a lock?” you asked breath hot against his. 

Sanji’s breath was ragged as he struggled to form coherent thoughts. He looked towards the kitchen door, then back at you, eyes dark with desire. “Yes,” he murmured, his voice husky. “It does.”

You grinned, biting your lip. “Good,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear as you did so. “Lock the door for me, pretty boy?”

The click of the lock seemed to break the last of Sanji’s restraint. He captured your lips again, this time with more urgency, his hands roaming your body with a newfound boldness. His touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire in your core.

You tugged at his shirt, impatiently pulling it free from his pants, your fingers tracing the hard lines of his abdomen. Sanji’s breath hitched at the contact, his hands moving to unbutton your own clothing with equal fervor. 

As your garments fell to the floor in a haphazard pile, Sanji lifted you onto the counter, the cold surface a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. He paused for a moment, his eyes drinking in the sight of you, a reverent expression on his face. You moved to remove your black lacy underwear but his hand stopped you.

“I want you to keep it on,” he breathed, his voice filled with genuine awe. “You’re a vision.”

Your eyebrow arched but still you blushed at his words and you most definitely didn’t let them slow you down. “Show me how much,” you challenged, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you.

Sanji didn’t need to be told twice. His lips traveled from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle nips that had you gasping for breath. His hands were everywhere, exploring, caressing, driving you wild with want.

As he trailed down your abdomen he dropped down to his knees, hands going around your thighs and dragging you to the edge. He looked up at you, veneration in his eyes. “Can I taste you?” He almost begged. 

You took your time to answer him, reveling in the sight. Your hand lazily cupped his cheek, tangled in his hair. “Yes.” Your whisper was almost lost against the sound of waves crashing against the hull.

His tongue met already dripping black lace. He lapped and sucked with adoration and the muted feeling of ecstasy threatened to send you over the edge again and again. Until your thighs shook and you were reduced to a babbling mess, begging for his tongue against your flesh. 

When he at long last dragged the ruined piece of cloth down your legs and his tongue finally met your slick with worship, his name flowed across your lips like a prayer. The waves of pleasure that washed over you were overwhelming and as orgasm after orgasm flowed through you he didn’t relent, drinking you in with a fervor born of reverence. You could feel your arousal drip down your trembling thighs, down his chin, the moans that escaped you as you implored him to stop obscene. 

When you collapsed in exhaustion and your shrieks born of overstimulation became soft sobs and whimpers he finally backed off. Gently, he guided you lower, a hand behind your head as he lay you down against the cool granite of the counter. 

His lips found yours in a soft kiss, allowing your mind to slowly come back to reality. His tongue danced with yours with careful consideration, the taste of your slick flooding your mouth. “I want to feel you around me, I want to feel your warmth, I want to…” he pleaded against your lips.

“Sanji, please,” you whispered, your voice laced with need.

Forehead to forehead Sanji’s eyes met yours, his gaze blown with lust. “Anything for you, my love” he promised, his hands unsteady as he positioned himself.

He slowly slid in, both of you moaning, your breaths mingling in want. You mewled, your head falling back as Sanji began to move, each thrust a symphony of pleasure that built and built until you thought you might shatter from the sheer intensity of it.

Sanji’s rhythm was desperate, his movements ragged and teetering as he brought you higher and higher.  Your name fell from his lips in a litany of praise and need, each syllable driving him to push you further.

As the tension within you reached a fever pitch, you clung to him, your nails digging into his back as you rode the waves of ecstasy that crashed over you. Sanji followed soon after, hips stuttering, hot seed mingling with your slick as it slowly overflowed and dripped down unto the counter.

For a moment, the world was nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths, the steady beat of your hearts, and the gentle sway of the ship. You clung to each other, lost in the afterglow, the reality of what had just happened slowly sinking in.

You were the first to break the silence, your voice raspy and filled with a mix of satisfaction and exhaustion. “Sanji, that was incredible,” you chuckled. “I don't think I can stand.”

His laughter mingled with yours, a rich, heartfelt sound that filled the room. Your heart filled with contentment. The moment was perfect, a blend of intimacy and joy that neither of you would ever let go of.

Masterlist

[saved-fanfiction]

Cherry Girl | Chapter 3

Eustass Kid x Reader

Chapters: [1] [2]

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, slow burn-ish, praise kink, size difference

Chapter wc: 7.8k

Summary: Eustass ‘captain’ Kid was in a shit mood. He was pent-up, irritated and you… you and your pink mini denim skirt wasn’t helping. OR You and Kid obviously pine for each other but you're both idiots.

Masterlist

Slowly crossposting from AO3

Chapter 3: The Shower

You hadn’t seen your captain nor those girls come out of his quarters in three days now. Most of the men of the crew had opted with staying at a nearby inn, pursuing their own conquests. Killer had instructed you with leaving some water and food by his door every day and every time you changed the old empty tray of food with a new full one you’d hear loud moans in there. Seemed like they were having fun. You tried not to be envious of them. But at night, when the room was empty, you couldn’t help yourself but let your fingers wander past the waistband of your panties and wonder how he’d feel.

The sun was creeping up and you couldn’t sleep. You decided to make your way to the kitchen, get an early start on your tasks of the day. You didn’t bother changing out of your thin pajama shorts and camisole, opting to throw on a thick cardigan and slip on your pink fur slippers. It wasn’t like anyone was on the ship anyways. 

The deck was quiet for a change, fresh air feeling good on your skin. You opened the door to the kitchen. Eustass ‘Captain’ fucking Kid was standing there, shirtless, without makeup and his hair soft. He was grumbling to himself over a pan at the oven.

The smell of something burning caught your attention. You sauntered over to where he was, instinct taking over. You removed the pan from the heat, taking it away from his hand. Whatever its content had been it was burnt to a crisp. With a sigh you turned off the oven top.

“The fuck are you doing,” he said in surprise, turning over to you. He was clearly still in a foul mood.

“Sorry captain,” You answered sheepishly, “instinct took over,” you laughed discarding the contents of the pan in the trash. “You should be careful though, could have burnt the whole ship down,” you added under your breath.

Kid shot you a glare, his piercing gaze making you squirm under his scrutiny. “I know what I’m doing,” He grumbled, his voice low and gravelly.

“Clearly not, captain,” you dared. “I didn’t know eggs could be so charred and still be edible.”

He scowled at you, but not in a menacing way. “If the ship goes down, it won’t be 'cause of a fucking pan, kitten. And I do know how to fucking cook”, he mumbled, shifting from foot to foot. “Was just distracted is all.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Captain. Need help with breakfast?” you asked playfully, a small giggle escaping your lips.

“I should throw you over fucking board.”

You looked out the window, a mischievous glint in your gaze. “It doesn’t look too cold, and I’m a good swimmer you know,” you answered teasingly. “A dip in the sea might even feel good.”

The audacity of your comeback caught him off guard. His eyes wandered over your body dangerously, taking you in.

“Huh? When the fuck did YOU get so fucking cheeky?” He asked indignantly, taking a step towards you. He was intimidating up close towering over you, a scowl on his face. But you could see the hint of playfulness hidden in his stare.

The intimacy of the moment made you smile.

“Why don’t you sit down?” you said, turning your back on him, donning over an apron. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

He stood there, unsure how to proceed.

“Fine,” he mumbled eventually, sitting down on a chair near the kitchen counter.

You gave a quick nod, satisfied with his response, and turned back to your work, determined to salvage what you could from his disastrous endeavors.

Just as you switched the oven on, the door to the kitchen swung open, making you jump. Killer strode in urgently. “I thought I smelled something burning,” he muttered between heavy breaths.

You laughed, a mischievous glint crossing your gaze. Kid scowled.

“Captain here decided to try his hand at cooking,” you teased between chuckles, “But apparently his mind was somewhere else,” you gestured to Kid with a playful grin.

Kid shot you a glare.

You could almost hear Killer’s brows go up at the idea. “Wasn’t aware you’d finally learned how to cook, Kid,” even though you couldn’t see his face through his mask, you could feel the amusement in his voice.

Kid shot Killer a fierce look. “Mind your own damn business, Killer. I can cook perfectly fine.”

You stifled a laugh. “Sure, you can,” you said in tandem with Killer.

Your captain grumbled something inaudible, his irritation evident.

You rolled your eyes, plating up what you’d been cooking. “There you go, Captain. A meal fit for the pirate king,” you declared, setting the plate in front of him.

“Oi, girly pop! Everything ok in here?” Quincy shouted as she opened the door to the kitchen, Dive and Heat in tow. “Something smells burnt”

You mischievously eyed your captain, he groaned loudly.

“Kid tried to cook,” Killer beat you to it.

“Huh?” Dive bellowed. “No way!” She was clearly amused.

Kid rolled his eyes, shoving food in his mouth with a vengeance, a slight embarrassed flush on his cheeks.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene unfolding before you. Captain Kid begrudgingly eating the breakfast you’d prepared, while his crewmates teased him mercilessly about his culinary skills – or lack thereof. 

You realized, in this perfect moment that you were happy. This, this felt like home.

Quincy and the rest crowded up in the kitchen, you got back to your cooking. The atmosphere was playful. Yes, this was nice, really nice. Warm and natural.

“Right, Quincy, show cherry girl what you found!” Heat said changing the subject.

“Ah! That’s right, look here girly pop,” Quincy beckoned. You turned to her, your curiosity piqued. She was holding up a pair of earrings, cherry earrings.

“Oh! They’re so cute!” You marvelled, picking them up excitedly.

“Just for you, cherry girl,” Quincy added, obviously proud of her find.

You blushed at the nickname. “I told you all to drop that,” you muttered sheepishly as you put on the valued gift.

“Ain’t no way we’re ever doing that,” Dive laughed.

“What’s that ‘Cherry Girl’ about,” Kid interrupted the moment, words uttered between mouthfuls, clearly intrigued.

Quincy looked at you, a devilish sparkle in her eyes. You blanched. “Don’t you fucking dare Quincy,” you panicked.

She leaned on the counter, her grin wicked as she assessed Kid. “You see,” she started in a sing-song. “Cherry girl here,” she put an emphasis on the nickname. Your ears felt hot. “Has never had anyone go down on her.”

“Huh?” Kid shouted, his head whipping back to you in surprise. Your face was red, a confirmation of what Quincy had just uttered. 

A grin plastered itself on his mouth.

“I’m not a virgin though,” You muttered quickly.

He howled.

“Kitten,” his tone was dripping with amusement. “I can change tha-” He started to say. 

“Get in line, Kid,” Quincy and Heat said together, cutting him off. “We already offered.”

You hid your face in embarrassment, your cheeks felt hot against the coolness of your fingers.

“You fucking bastards,” you squealed, your words muffled behind your palms.

“Oh look at her!” Dive added. “She’s redder than the captain’s hair.”

Your crewmates erupted in laughter, teasing you mercilessly as you tried to bury your face in your hands further. Captain Kid, still grinning like a cheshire cat, leaned back in his chair clearly enjoying the spectacle.

“You’re all insufferable,” you muttered, curling inwards.

“Are we?” Quincy said innocently, mischief filled her eyes once again. “You know captain, we all learned a lot about girly pop when we played truth or dare. It’s really too bad you missed all that,” she continued.

“Quincy!” You shouted.

“Oh really?” Kid leaned forward clearly interested.

“Really! I’ll tell you all about it if you give me a nice bonus,” Quincy added. A conspiratorial look passed between her and Kid.

“You fucking traitor, don’t you dare!” You panicked, blood draining from your face.

Kid got up, his grin down right evil as he put his arm around Quincy’s shoulders and started dragging her towards the door with him. “Deal! Start talkin’ Quin,” he shot back a look at you when he passed the door. “Thanks for the food Kitten,” the bastard dared wink at you, Quincy’s faint chatter about that night barely reaching your ears.

Fuck. You groaned, utterly mortified. You heard an ever so rare laugh come from Killer. You couldn’t help the indignant glare you sent his way.

As the door closed behind Captain Kid and Quincy, leaving you alone with Dive, Heat, and Killer, the kitchen fell into an awkward silence. You could feel the heat of embarrassment still burning in your cheeks as you tried to come to terms with the fact that Quincy had just sold you out for a bonus.

Dive and Heat exchanged amused glances, clearly enjoying the spectacle. "Well, that was expected," Dive chuckled.

"Yeah, Quincy has a good knack for negotiation," Heat added, grinning.

You shot them both a fierce stare, still reeling from the betrayal. "You're not helping," you complained.

Killer laughed softly, shaking his head. "Relax, cherry girl. They're just messing with you."

You scowled at the nickname coming from Killer. You’d thought at least HE’d be better. You sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. "I know, but still..."

Killer's stance softened, a comforting hand went to your shoulder. "Hey, it's all in good fun. And besides, it's not like Kid’s going to hold it against you."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "You sure about that?"

Killer shrugged. "Who knows with him? But he's not one to judge."

You sighed, feeling a bit reassured by Killer's words. "I guess you're right."

Dive clapped you on the back, a mischievous grin on her face. "Come on, cherry girl. Let's not let Quincy's antics ruin the day. We've got a ship to run, after all."

You nodded and got back to work, steeling yourself to face whatever the day had in store. A small smile made its way on your lips. Despite the embarrassment and teasing, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the camaraderie of your crewmates. With their support, you knew you could handle any and all challenges that came your way.

Kid had actually been in a foul mood when he’d woken up that morning. The girls sleeping on his bed had suddenly started to feel very annoying. He’d roughly woken them up and thrown them out his fucking cabin. He was still so fucking pent-up. He’d fucked them day and night for three days now. They’d been a good lay, matched his intensity just right. So why the fuck was he still so fucking frustrated. He groaned, closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

Fuck. He wasn’t fucking tired.

He sighed in defeat and got up. Whatever. He was hungry.

Kid grudgingly made his way to the kitchen, his mind still reeling with irritation and restlessness. Eggs couldn’t be that hard to cook, right? He’d been lost in thought when you’d barged in and ordered him around. The fuck you think you were. He was the fucking captain of this ship. 

He’d scowled in frustration, ready to snap. That was until you’d looked up at him with that cute playful little look of yours. It almost made him smile. That wasn’t so bad he’d guessed. He could let you order him around a little, it wasn’t like it really mattered.

He’d sat down like an obedient dog at your invitation. Checking you out as you busied yourself making him something. Those shorts you wore barely hid anything, he didn’t even need his imagination to see the shapes hidden below the thin fabric of your pajamas. A soft grin made its way to his lips. This was nice actually. Really nice. He took in a breath, letting his shoulders relax.

He wasn’t so angry anymore.

Killer had stormed in at that moment. By the way his friend’s masked face had stayed a touch too long towards him, he knew he’d been caught. 

Whatever, Kid scowled.

His shoulders tensed up again in frustration. He knew Killer would ask later. Fuck. He didn’t know what he’d say.

He’d been eating when Quincy, Dive and Heat had barged in. Cherry girl, they’d call you. He was rarely curious about his crew’s antics, nicknames changed all the time on his ship. But he couldn’t help but ask this time around. By the look in Quincy’s eyes, he immediately knew this was going to be good.

Quincy had dropped the bomb. Your embarrassment making it clear that it was true. His cock had twitched momentarily at the suggestive thought that crossed his mind. He could fucking help you with that if you wanted. Hell he’d give you the time of your life. He gave your body a once over. He’d do it right here and now if you asked. A shit-eating grin plastered his lips as he started voicing his thoughts. Quincy and Heat cut him off, revealing they’d already offered.

He howled at your mortification. Seemed like they all shared the same brain cell. His cock twitched again as he looked at your thighs. They’d make amazing earmuffs. His convictions from a few days before were slowly shattering. Maybe he was that kind of man. Maybe he fucking wanted something sweet for once. He was aware of Quincy’s calculating stare on him. He waited for her to decide on whatever she was deliberating in that head of hers. A resolute look had settled in her eyes and she baited him with scandalous revelations. Oh this was getting interesting. Sure he decided, he’d bite. He snaked an arm around Quincy’s shoulder, a conspiratorial look shared between them as they’d left. The irritation he’d felt that morning was slowly ebbing away.

Yes, this was indeed interesting.

As the days progressed, you found yourself caught up in the daily activities of running the ship. The captain was out of his quarters, it was time for everyone to get back to their duties. Inventory checks, maintenance and planning resumed for the next voyage at sea. You’d sail out soon. One more night and you’d all be off. The crew continued to tease you about your new nickname, they all seemed to revel in the amusement it brought them. A faint blush would hit your cheeks but you were determined not to let it get under your skin.

Your captain hadn’t brought the subjects of whatever conversations he’d had with Quincy. You were sure he’d be back to tease you about it eventually. Maybe it was the inevitability of that teasing that brought you on edge but you could swear that his hand stayed longer and lower on your back when he passed you by. Your heart thrummed every time, ears reddening at the thought that he knew you’d fantasized about him.

You groaned. Stopping your current task, you buried your face in your hands. Flashbacks of embarrassing moments crossing your mind to your despair. “Stop thinking brain,” you told yourself aloud.

Heat barged in, interrupting the fragile peace around you. “Come on, cherry girl. Last day on solid ground. We’re going to drink”

You hesitated. Last time you were at the tavern hadn’t turned out the best for you.

“No chickening out,” you heard Dive shout from outside.

You considered trying to turn them down, although you knew it was futile. “Fine,” you mumbled, getting up.

With a resigned sigh, you followed Heat out of the ship and into the bustling streets of the town. The now familiar sights and sounds washed over you. As you walked, Heat chattered excitedly about the plans for the evening, his infectious enthusiasm gradually lifting your spirits. Despite your initial reluctance, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation building within you. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad.

The tavern loomed ahead, its warm glow inviting you in. The crew had already claimed their usual corner, their laughter echoing throughout the crowded room.

Quincy waved you over, a mischievous grin on her face. "There she is, cherry girl! Ready for round two?"

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help but smile at her teasing. "Bring it on," you replied, determination in your voice.

As the night wore on, you found yourself caught up in the lively atmosphere of the tavern. Laughter, music, and the clinking of tankards filled the air, washing away the stresses of the day.

Kid wasn’t there. You’d learned he never drank the day before setting out to sea. Him and Killer planning their next route and going over the necessary preparations instead.

Quincy and Dive were engaged in a spirited game of darts, their competitive streaks evident as they cheered each other on. Heat was at the bar, chatting up the bartender and charming her with his infectious smile, probably hoping for a last fuck before the road.

As for you, you found yourself drawn into conversations with various crewmates, sharing stories and laughter as the night wore on. Despite the teasing and the embarrassment, you felt a sense of belonging among your fellow crewmates.

Quincy had eventually made her way back to your side at some point. She was clearly intoxicated.

"Hey, cherry girl," Quincy slurred, leaning heavily on your shoulder. "You know, you're not half bad for a girly pop."

You chuckled, steadying her. "Thanks, I think."

Quincy grinned drunkenly. "No, seriously. You've been holding your own out here. I respect that."

"Thanks Quince,” you laughed heartily.

“Cheers to that,” she shouted holding out her tankard. She wobbled side to side. As she leaned back on you for support, her grip loosened momentarily, the contents of her drink sloshing out of its container and down your shirt. You squeaked at the cold feeling.

“Whoops!” Quincy exclaimed, giggling drunkenly as she looked down at your shirt. “Looks like I’ve had too many.”

You laughed, feeling a little tipsy yourself. “I think you might be right.”

“Looks like the end of the night for her,” Dive chuckled, as she joined the two of you. “Want me to take her back to the ship?”

“No, it’s fine, I need to shower anyways,” you gestured at your shirt. “Before this gets all sticky.”

Dive nodded understandingly. "Alright then, I'll see you back at the ship. ‘Night cherry girl."

With Quincy's arm draped over your shoulder for support, the two of you made your way through the patrons towards the exit. The cool night air hit you as you stepped outside, a welcome relief from the warmth and noise of the crowded tavern.

As you walked, Quincy stumbled slightly, and you tightened your grip on her to keep her steady. Despite her drunken state, she was surprisingly light on her feet, her laughter echoing through the empty streets as you made your way back to the ship.

The journey back felt shorter than you expected, the familiar sight of the Victoria Punk looming ahead in the darkness. With Quincy's help, you climbed aboard, grateful for the safety and familiarity of the deck beneath your feet.

As you helped Quincy to her cot, you couldn't help but smile. She was a troublemaker and she got on your nerves half the time with her antics but she was your friend. You made sure she was comfortable and placed a bucket at her feet, just in case.

With Quincy safely tucked away, you made your way back up the deck with a change of clothes in your hands and your toiletries. You reached the showers, discarding your clothes and putting your things in a locker. You wrapped your body in your pink fluffy towel as you entered the steamed filled room.

You stopped in your tracks at the sight of your captain under one of the showers. He didn’t seem to notice you, water droplets flowed down his chest, his eyes were closed, mouth slightly agape in pleasure. His hand was pumping up and down his dick. Metal scraps that usually made up his left arm littered on the floor. You startled in realization.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What did you do? You panicked. He hadn’t seen you yet. You started to turn away. That’s right you could just turn back and forget about this. No one had to know. Your foot caught on a wooden bucket in your sudden movement. A deafening clang rung in the silence of the room as it tumbled around.

“Fuck,” you squeaked and turned back to your captain. His lidded gaze was looking right at you. He was amused. Your eyes went to the floor.

Eustass ‘captain’ Kid had felt your presence far before you’d seen him. He hadn’t known it was you. No, that was just a pleasant surprise. Truth be told he didn’t mind being caught, hell they’d all seen each other in compromising situations a thousand times over. A ship was small and everyone had urges. Most of his crew had caught him dick in his hand at least a few times now. They’d usually just turn back and never speak of it again. But as he looked at your panicked form, clad only in a towel, he couldn’t help himself but grin.

“Captain,” you managed to choke out. You were stuttering some kind of apology, not daring looking him in the eye. Cute.

“You gonna help or you wanna watch?” He asked his voice low.

“What?” Your eyes shot up to meet his.

He cocked his head, his lips curved in a slow knowing smile. “You heard me, kitten.”

Damn right you’d heard him. Your mind was just struggling to keep up.

Your feet moved before your rational thoughts could decide otherwise, droplets from the shower head soaking your towel as you joined him under the stream of warm water. Your hand delicately settled on his chest as you looked up at him through your lashes. Satisfaction with your decision was clear in his eyes, pupils blown eclipsing their fiery color. His hand buried itself in your hair, leaning in for a kiss.

“Well?” he whispered against your lips, hot breath mingling with yours. He waited for you to make the first move.

Your gaze flickered against his features, taking him in. You leaned in, placing a tender kiss on his lips. His grip tightened in your locks, mouth moving against yours hungrily as he pressed your bodies closer to one another. Without breaking away, he spun you around trapping you against the wall, the cold wet tile a distant sensation as your entire being melted into his touch. His knee parted open your legs, you felt a soft pressure at your core.

“Captain,” you muttered against his lips, the sound somehow needy. “I don’t actually… really… know what to do,” you admitted shyly.

He stopped his exploration, body backing up ever so slightly as he looked in your eyes, gaze searching yours. His grip loosened. His forehead hit the cold tile of the wall next to your head as he deliberated over something. A soft ‘fuck’ reached your ear, and he suddenly withdrew entirely. Quickly turning off the shower, he wrapped a towel around his hips and picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder none so delicately. His metal arm reconstructed itself as he walked.

You squeaked in surprise at the sudden shift in your vision. You attempted a small protest, but he was already on the move, striding past the door of the showers right onto the deck, the cool air of the night making the hairs on your body stand up. 

“Captain!” you screeched in embarrassment at your lack of propriety even though the ship was empty. 

His steps left damp marks on the wooden planks as he ignored your pleas, his hand tightening in the softness of your thigh when you tried to wriggle out of his grip. He took a quick turn. The metal door of his quarters swung open far before you even reached it and closed behind him just as fast.

You heard the lock click as he threw you unceremoniously on his bed. He looked down at you, hunger clear in his eyes. 

“You a virgin?” He asked. When you didn’t answer he continued, “cause I can work with that. Just need to know first.”

“I’m not,” You felt your cheeks turn pink. “It’s just been a while.” You felt bold under his gaze, the lust plastered on his features somehow emboldening you. Your hand slowly rose to the edge of your towel, undoing the small knot and revealing your naked form.

Kid tossed his head back, hooded eyes devouring you. “Fuck”, he muttered, “you’ll be the end of me.”

He leaned down over you on the bed. His lips found yours in a domineering kiss, biting and ravaging. You gave in, happily acquiescing to all his greedy requests, his tongue leading yours.

You moaned, everything feeling dizzy with desire. One of his knees parted your legs slightly, making space for him. His lips left yours, travelling to your jaw, down your throat, occasionally stopping for a soft bite. He seemed to be thinking about something, his attention both on you and far away. As he gave your nipple a small flick, one of your hands buried itself in his hair, the other on his arm for support as needy whimpers escaped you.

You felt the way his grin widened against your skin as he started shuffling downwards, kissing down your abdomen. Realization downed on you.

“Wait!” You cried out, almost panicky. He looked up at you, amusement tinging the glint in his eyes. “I-I’ve never…”

He chuckled, the gravelly sound sending shocks of electricity to your core. “I know, cherry girl,” he put emphasis on the nickname, a shit-eating expression stuck on his face. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of ya,” he continued, each word punctuated with a kiss.

You could feel his quiet exhales ghosting over your heat. Your breath caught in anticipation. His metal arm laced around your thigh, bringing it up over his shoulder, his cold steel hand resting heavily on your hip, pinning you down. He kissed the inside of your thigh, gaze never leaving yours. You looked away shyly. He bit down almost painfully, earning him a gasp.

“That won’t do kitten,” he drawled, “look at me”.

You obeyed, eyes snapping to him, the sight of him between your legs almost too much. Your cheeks heated.  

“Good girl,” he muttered against the softness of your skin.

Oh gods. You let out a depraved moan at the praise. Fuck. You liked that.

His eyes sparkled at your reaction. He kissed your thigh again, getting closer to your core. “Don’t ya dare look away, alright? You keep those pretty eyes on me.” 

You nodded, eager to please.

The thumb of his flesh hand swiped up your slit, parting your folds, playing with the slick positively dripping out of you. It settled right above your clit, pushing up the hood slightly. “So wet for me,” he commented. 

You opened your mouth to say you didn’t know what but his tongue met your heat first. A squeak at the new sensation passed your mouth instead. Your body tensed up, unsure how to react to the intensity of the pleasure wave coming over you. His mouth latched onto your clit, tongue working expertly.

Your hips bucked against his face but the weight of his metal arm pinned you down more firmly. You couldn’t help the begging mewls escaping your lips, incoherent pleas echoing against the steel walls. You moved your free hand to cover your mouth, embarrassed, but the way his glare turned dangerous made you drop it just as fast, fingers tightening in the soft fabric of his bed instead.

Pleased, he redoubled his pace. The hand you had on his head clenched in his hair, nails digging into his scalp as you tried not to push down on him too hard. He groaned at the feeling. You could feel the grin on his lips more than you could see it as his tongue dipped lower, his thumb taking over the bundle of nerves momentarily as he explored your heat fully.

His tongue delved in and out of you as he increased the pressure on your clit. You let out a sharp cry at the intensity of the sensations, your breath struggling to find a normal rhythm at the ferocity of his onslaught. It was all so fucking much. Your hand twitched, hips trying to squirm away, white edging at your vision.

“Captain,” you moaned. “I’m close,” that feeling of ecstasy was just right out of your grip.

He hummed in understanding, stopping his exploration to renew his attention fully on your clit. Devouring you with an intensity you didn’t know possible. It didn’t take long for your orgasm to crash over you, swallowing you whole. But, he didn’t stop, tongue lapping as you rode out the waves.

Your body struggled to get out of his grip as pleasure started to feel too much against his unrelenting attention, an almost painful assault on your senses. Everything other than his lips at your core faded out of existence, the feeling bordering on distressing as your consciousness grappled to comprehend the surges of pleasure still washing over you. Your back arched, body tense as your hips sought to back away. The hand you had in his hair tried to push him off. It didn’t matter, he was stronger than you.

“One more for me, kitten,” He demanded.

His hand left your trembling thigh and dropped down lower, pushing one finger, then a second inside of you as his tongue continued his work. He pumped in and out of you lazily, the squelching sound obscene as he felt your heat twitch around him. Your breath struggled between sharp cries. It was too much. Your mind fell into oblivion as a second more intense orgasm hit you.

For a moment, it felt as though your soul had left your shaking body but then all sensations came back with a vengeance, threatening to steal away the rationality of your mind.

“Captain! Captain!” you sobbed, tears staining your cheeks. “Shit! Stop!” He didn’t. “Stop! It’s too much!” Panic laced the tone of your voice. He backed away a little, chin wet with your arousal, fingers still buried in your cunt, playing with your slick. You were panting, breath struggling to find its normal rhythm.

“Do you want to stop here, kitten?” He asked, softly biting your inner thigh.

“What? No!” Your words were frantic. “’’twas just too much, I…” you panted, “Just need to slow down for a bit” you answered between gasps, the world still spinning around you.

“Slow down, huh?” the grin on his lips was downright evil. The pad of his thumb found your clit, tracing soft small circles as he continued fingering you. “Can’t keep up with me? Kitten?” you whimpered, the tight feeling you had in your stomach coming back, begging for release as he carried on teasingly. “Thought you had fantasies ‘bout me.”

You averted your eyes shyly. “Fucking Quincy,” you muttered under your breath.

He chuckled. “Kitten,” his tone had a warning edge to it. “Didn’t say your eyes could leave me, did I?” He asked. You brought your eyes back to his. “That’s my girl, so good for me,” the praise elicited a moan out of you. He added a little more pressure to your clit, your walls fluttering around his fingers. You could feel your orgasm in reach.

So fucking close.

He stopped.

You couldn’t help the “No!” you squeaked when you felt the sweet promise of pleasure being taken away from you.

He laughed, a low rumble. “How about you tell me ‘bout those fantasies of yours? I might even let you come if they’re good.” He resumed the soft circles.

Your face felt hot. The feeling of humiliation at the thought of saying them out loud somehow turning you on even more. “I-I…” You hesitated. “I’ve thought about you, captain, fucking me for a while,” you committed to it. “When I brought you lemonade last time, I thought about you fucking me against the door of your workshop. How you’d slip my panties to the side and fuck me senseless. Maybe you’d bend me over that desk of yours and take me there too.” Just the thought made the promise of your orgasm return.

“Oh? Really?” He was clearly amused. His fingers didn’t stop. “That all?” he probed for more.

“Gods no!” Your high was growing and growing, all but the touch of his fingers and the scorching heat of his gaze felt fuzzy. “I’ve thought about riding you so many times. In a bed, even in that chair you always sit in. I’ve thought about how you’d sound as I move myself up and down your dick. I wondered if you would leave bruises on my hips as pleasure would take you.”

A hum caught in the back of his throat at the thought. You were so close. He stopped.

“No!” You screamed in frustration. “Please,” you almost wept, your high denied to you for a second time. He grinned.

“Go on,” He demanded, evidently entertained.

“I’ve also thought,” You started, suddenly feeling bashful at this one fantasy. “Thought about you using your powers on me. Pinning me down as you fuck me without mercy.”

Kid moaned. Loudly.

Your eyes widened a bit in surprise. The pressure of his thumb increased slightly. Emboldened, you continued. “Thought about you coming inside me, having your seed drench my panties, drip down my thighs as I have to carry on my duties on the ship.” 

The thought made your walls clench hard around his fingers, a desperate moan making its way out of your mouth. He didn’t stop this time, continuing the come-hither motion of his fingers as you rode out your high.

“Good girl, you did so well for me, kitten,” He said when your breathing stabilized. Gods, you could get addicted to this, the way his praises made you feel. “How ‘bout we make one of those a reality?”

“Wha-“ you didn’t have time to finish what you’d started to say. In a flash he’d expertly flipped you both around positioning you over his dick. He leaned up on his elbow, hand in your hair he crashed your lips together, teeth biting at your lower lip before his tongue darted in, exploring your mouth. You tumbled to his chest, his hard-on pressing against your core. You felt some of your slick cooled down by the air drip down your thigh, onto his cock.

He let himself drop on the bed dragging you with him. His metal hand sliding from your hip down your ass. “Captain,” you moaned against him as he squeezed plush flesh. Your own hand slipped between your bodies, grabbed his length. You couldn’t help but feel a tinge of nervousness at how big he felt against your fingers. It was no surprise, really, considering how massive he was compared to you. You gave him a few slow pumps, grip tightening against the tip. He tossed his head back at the sensation, an unabashedly loud moan escaping him.

“Kitten,” He almost begged. “I’m not sure I can continue being nice like that with you.”

His gaze was intense, filled with desire. You leaned back, lips leaving his, your other hand taking place on his chest for support. You studied his face as you brought his cock at your entrance. Gods. He was so pretty. You wanted to make him come in your hands but your need for him to be inside you was just as bad, if not worse.

“Captain, you’re big! Much bigger than what I’ve had before,” You stated, beginning to lower yourself on him, the tip already feeling like a stretch.

You heard a faint ‘fuck’ coming from his lips, stuttered swears uttered below his breath.

“I’m going to need you to be nice,” you whimpered as you slid down a bit lower. His hand settled on your hips digging hard, his self-restraint clearly starting to fray. Maybe it would leave bruises tomorrow. The thought made you moan, clench slightly around him.

“Going to need you to be nice for a bit,” you repeated. He groaned in somewhat acquiescence, eyes not leaving yours. Your voice went up an octave as you continued, “but I don’t want you to be nice.” You took him up to the hilt. “I want you to be rough. I want you to use me.” 

His red painted nails dug painfully into your soft flesh at your words. Yes! That would leave bruises. Good. “Just need you to let me get used to the stretch first,” you ended.

“Fuck, kitten,” He smiled as your walls fluttered around him. “You feel so fucking good.”

His hand left your hip, nails softly grazing down your outer thigh before soothingly going back up. An electric shock of pleasure went down your back at the sensation. You gave a tentative sway of your hips. Your nails dug into his chest, the stretch was so intense, but you thought you could take it. Your movements emboldened after a few ups and downs. Kid gave a low moan, tossing his head back against the covers, his own back arching slightly as he struggled to stay still. He was loud. He didn’t care. You felt pride to be the one getting these moans out of him this time around.

You smiled in satisfaction. Your thighs already trembling in pleasure. “Captain, fuck me! Please!” you pleaded.

He didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as the words left your mouth his metal hand secured you in place and his hips began to move in and out of you fast. His other hand traveled up your side to your breast giving playful tugs on your nipple. His gaze was as wild as the pace he’d set.

Your mind labored to keep up with the waves of pleasure coursing through you. Your breast bounced with each hard thrust. You moaned loudly every time his pelvis hit your oversensitive clit, your nails leaving red scratches all over him as you struggled to find purchase. You could already feel that you were close, but his pace was too fast for you to get any word in.

It was not like you had to tell him though. With the way you clenched and fluttered against him, he already knew. “That’s it kitten, let go for me,” he said between two moans.

It was all it took for you to do just that. Pleasure took over your senses, your wall squeezing him almost painfully.

“Fuck,” you heard him swear distantly, through the curtains of your high.

You slowly came back to reality. He was still going. You writhed in ecstasy.

“Shit, kitten, can I come inside?” He asked, urgency lacing his words.

Gods. “Yes!” you begged over and over again. It didn’t take him long to reach climax either. His grip tightened on your hips, and you felt his seed flood your womb as he moaned loudly. Hot sticky fluid seeped out of you, painted your thighs, mixed with your slick.

You were exhausted. He’s was still buried to the hilt inside of you as you dropped down on his panting chest. A moment of comfortable silence passed between the two of you.

A chuckle escaped him. “Shit, kitten,” he said between heavy breaths. “Would’ve done that much earlier if I’d known.”

You couldn’t help the smile that made its way to your lips. “You really only had to ask, captain,” you answered. His chest rose up and down in a deep laughter at that. You began to back away but his metal arm pinned you down against him.

“You know,” he started to say, his voice rough from your activities. “As much as you calling me captain makes my dick twitch, you can call me by my name when I’m balls deep in you, kitten.” His hand traveled up and down on your back, sometimes settling here and there, thumb soothingly drawing small circles.

“Kid,” you uttered shyly. How often had you daydreamed of calling him that? 

“That’s my girl,” he answered, his hand traveling up your back, finding its place at your nape, fingers tangling in your hair he guided your face towards his, locking your lips together. It was softer than the ones before, more considerate.

You moaned in his mouth, his metal hand found it was to your hip, squeezing your ass before pinning you still. You could feel his cock coming back to life buried deep within you.

“Kid,” you pleaded.

He smiled against your lips. “The night’s young, kitten. I’m just getting started with you.”

Your walls twitched at the growing stretch, you were oversensitive everywhere. “Fuck,” your breath caught.

He gave a tentative thrust into you, your whole body shuddering before he flipped you over, your back hitting the covers. He backed away momentarily, you felt empty without his cock stretching you. He took one of your ankles in his metal hand, bringing it to his shoulder. He reentered you at an agonizingly slow pace, clearly looking for something with each thrust. His flesh hand took your other knee, positioning it in different ways.

“K-Kid! W-what are you doing?” you couldn’t help but wonder.

He didn’t need to answer, you felt it first. The angle of his thrust made you see stars. A sharp cry escaped your lips, tears of pleasure threatening to flood your eyes.

“Ahh, there it is,” He roared in triumph.

With no warning he started pounding into you without mercy. His flesh hand left your leg once he was sure you’d anchored yourself, instead going to stimulate your clit.

You couldn’t control the sobs of pleasure that spilled out of your mouth. Your hands fought to find purchase in the covers of the bed, digging as hard as humanely possible as your entire body struggled to keep up with the ecstasy coursing through it.

“Kid,” you begged, as you came around him, walls spasming uncontrollably. He didn’t stop as you rode your high.

“You’re doing so well, kitten,” he praised you, between his own moans.

He left your heat for a moment when he felt you coming back to reality. He flipped you around. Your arms failed to keep you upright, your face burying itself in fabric instead. Drool and tears seeping in the soft cotton.

He reentered you, continuing his merciless pace. You felt your thighs tremble, your whole body tense and slack simultaneously. His metal hand kept your hips in place, flesh hand finding its rightful place at your clit. Your pleas were muffled, your nails digging in the covers harder than you thought possible. Your toes curled. You could only see white as pleasure flowed through you. When Kid came inside of you, your body dropped down heavily. You were so tired. You heard him say something but your brain didn’t register the words as you drifted to sleep.

The soft rays of the sun woke you up. You were laying down on your captain’s chest, his arm pinning you against him. You blushed as memories of your activities flooded your mind. 

Bathroom. You needed to go to the bathroom.

You tried to move his arm from you. Your whole body felt so sore. He groaned softly as you inched slowly out of his grip. Your legs almost gave out, feeling wobbly as you made your way to the bathroom attached to his quarters.

Your thighs were surprisingly clean, you spotted both yours and Kid’s towels in the hamper. He’d clearly used them to clean you up after you’d passed out. Your cheeks heated at the thought.

Fuck. You panicked. With your towel gone you’d have to find something else to wear as you’d run to your quarters for a change of clothes.

Your eyes landed on clothes scattered all over the room. You wondered if he would be angry if you borrowed one of his shirts. You picked one up from the floor, bringing it to you. You smiled. It smelled like him.

You slipped it on. It was big on you, easily covering you down to your thighs. You creaked the door of his quarters open, head peeking out to see how busy the deck was. No one was in sight. Good. You backed off, ready to make a run for it. A metal arm slammed the door closed before you could do anything.

“Did I say you could go, kitten?” Kid asked, trapping you between him and the door.

You let out a small, surprised squeak.

You turned around to face him slowly. You looked at him through your lashes, meeting his amused gaze. He gave your body a once over, clearly checking you out in his shirt. His flesh hand found its way to your thigh, nails grazing your skin as he roamed upwards, pushing the fabric in his movement.

“Good morning, Captain,” You mumbled shyly, “I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked so comfortable.” You rambled on, embarrassed.

A soft smile adorned his features. He leaned down catching your lips almost tenderly, lazily deepening the kiss. His fingers wandered against your body, knee finding its place in-between your legs, hands roughly palming your ass as he moved your bare cunt against his thigh.

You broke away, in need for air. “Kid,” you moaned.

He grinned, his kisses traveling to your neck. “I know it’s the wrong door,” he undid the first button of the shirt you were wearing. “But, If I remember properly,” he continued skillfully undoing button after button. “You have a fantasy involving me fucking you against a door.” The shirt opened, revealing your naked form. “What do you say, we make this one a reality too?”

Kid was fucking you senseless against the door when you heard someone knock against it. You tried to stifle your moans but that only made him redouble his efforts.

“The fuck you want,” Kid yelled between thrusts. “I’m. Fucking. Busy”

“Kid,” you heard Heat’s voice. “I lost the bet, so don’t get mad,” he pleaded. “But…” Through your moans, you heard Quincy say something along the lines of ‘go on, coward’. “Are we still setting sail today?” he asked.

Kid looked at you with a wicked grin. “Delay it for a few days,” he shouted between grunts. “I’ll be busy for a while.”

And he was busy for a while. When he finally let you go, it was with his fur coat draping your shoulders as you ran to your quarters, soft blush on your cheeks.

Fuck. You indeed looked magnificent in red.

← Previous chapter

[saved-fanfiction]

Bb!!!!! Ok! Hear me out!!!!! Bartolomeo fucking you like a whore then later learns you’re a strawhat!!!!!! 

-M✨

MILLIE!!!!! YOU KNOW I’M FUCKING UNHINGED ABOUT THIS MAN!!!! Ok but like YES!!!! Hear me out for a sec.

It’s purely transactional, you’re looking to get fucked and so is he.

He’s all teeth and tongue as he slams you to the door of the dingy hotel room you’re staying at. He so fucking big and the way his fingers tangle roughly in your hair, guiding your head however he wants as his tongue dominates yours is downright dizzying.

When he pulls away, it’s with that shit eating grin and you’re breathless and your knees feel weak. He harshly pulls your head back and you’d struggle a bit out of principle if only you weren’t already struggling to keep yourself upright already. His other hand travels to your jaw and his fingers dig in painfully, forcing it open.

“You like that, huh?” His eyes search yours, looking for confirmation. His smirk widens as sees it, the raw desire, the want in your gaze. He spits in your mouth, his hand moving from your jaw to your mouth, bitter pads of his fingers mixing his spit and yours, dangerously close to your throat.

“Just like a fucking whore,” he chuckles, fingers so far he’s making you gag. And you can feel yourself dripping at the degradation, at the satisfaction in his gaze.

He unceremoniously chucks you on the bed. Doesn’t even bother pulling down your underwear, just pulls your skirt up and slides the drenched fabric to the side before his tongue meets your heat without warning. Goes right down to business. The metal of his tongue piercing against your clit makes you see stars and he brings you so near the edge. He’s uncaring in the force of his fingers digging in your flesh, inevitably leaving bruises behind.

He stops as you feel yourself teetering, almost there. And as you open your mouth to protest, he sneers down at you and harshly pulls your panties off, stuffing them in your mouth. The taste of your arousal strong on your tongue.

Before you can react he flips you over, trapping your thighs between his. You try to scramble up but you feel his grip in your hair as he pushes you back down. The sound of of him undoing his belt is loud in the silence of the room.

He slides in easily, his teeth sinking in your shoulder. One of his hands finds your clit, balancing the fine line between pain and pleasure as he draws out blood.

When Bartolomeo finally starts fucking you, he fucks you rough. The hand he has in you hair pushes your face ruthlessly into the musty sheets of the motel as he pounds mercilessly into you. The squelching sound is obscene and the bed creaks and slams loudly against the wall with each of his thrusts.

Your drool seeps past the thin fabric of your ruined underwear mixing with tears and snot into the rough weave of the covers and your fingers claw desperately, catching into snapping threads. Your muffled moans are desperate, stuck at the back of your throat, coming out closer to sobs as you struggle for breath. Each time his teeth sinks into your flesh a sharp cry escapes you and his attention to your clit intensifies.

You’d already been so close just with his tongue and between the ecstasy of his fingers and the ruthlessness of his cock, he brings you over the edge repeatedly, your cunt twitching around him.

When he’s over with you, his seed hot against your back and your thighs, he simply slaps your ass one last time and leaves without uttering a word.

So when Bartolomeo sees you in that house on top of the hill, chatting and laughing along with your crew, bite marks and bruises still fresh on your skin, he can’t fucking believe it. And when his beloved Luffy-senpai introduces you as a member of the crew he can feel the blood draining from his face and he can’t help but reconsider his decisions of the past night.

FUCK I really should make this a full fic… adds it to the WIP list

[saved-fanfiction]

One Piece Masterlist

Nothing here is written by us, we're a recommendations blog, these are all pieces written by other creators

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Feat. content about Straw Hats, Marines, Cross Guild, Red Haired Pirates, Heart Pirates, Whitebeard Pirates, Kid Pirates

Reader insert content ahead

✅ - SFW Content

🔞 - NSFW Content

Straw Hats

✅ Handling Jealousy by @zorosgirlfriend Monster Trio/GN!Reader

✅ First Kisses by @silliestgoobster Sanji, Koby, Mihawk/F!Reader

✅ Princes of Pining by @thetrasha Sanji, Ace, Buggy, Brook/F!Reader

✅ Body Pillow by @penkura Sanji/GN!Reader

✅ When they get jealous by @vampiric-tempt Zoro, Crocodile, Law/GN!Reader

🔞 Calling them Daddy (pt.2) by @maddddstuff Zoro, Shanks, Smoker/GN!Reader

🔞 "Oh I didn't shave" headcanons by @alj0saray Sanji/GN!Reader/AFAB!Reader

Marines

✅ A walk in town by @jintaka-hane Smoker/F!Reader

🔞 Soft Hearted by @2b4st4r Doflamingo, Crocodile, Katakuri, Buggy, Lucci, Kid, Barolomeo/GN!Reader

✅ First Kisses by @silliestgoobster Sanji, Koby, Mihawk/F!Reader

✅ Intimidation by @mostlymihawk Mihawk, Shanks, Koby/GN!Reader

🔞 Calling them Daddy (pt.2) by @maddddstuff Zoro, Shanks, Smoker/GN!Reader

✅ I'm Your Husband by @inseobts Zoro, Sanji, Law, Shanks, Ace/F!Reader

Cross Guild

🔞 Dreaming of you by @fanaticsnail Crocodile/GN!reader, Mihawk/GN!reader, Buggy/GN!reader

✅ Strawberry Lemonade by @softlypaintedseafoam Buggy/GN!Reader

🔞 You Give Me Fever by @indydonuts Crocodile/F!Reader

🔞 Soft Hearted by @2b4st4r Doflamingo, Crocodile, Katakuri, Buggy, Lucci, Kid, Barolomeo/GN!Reader

🔞 Quiet by @discordantwritings Mihawk/GN!Reader

✅ First Kisses by @silliestgoobster Sanji, Koby, Mihawk/F!Reader

✅ Pasodoble by @sunflowersatori Crocodile/F!Reader

🔞Strip poker by @madwomansapologist Crocodile/F!Reader

✅ Well Earned Praise by @sordidmusings Mihawk/GN!Reader

✅ Soulmates by @short-honey-badger Mihawk/GN!Reader

✅ Princes of Pining by @thetrasha Sanji, Ace, Buggy, Brook/F!Reader

🔞Happy Anniversary by @crescentmoontsuki Crocodile/M!Reader

✅ When they get jealous by @vampiric-tempt Zoro, Crocodile, Law/GN!Reader

🔞 Our Precious Assistant by @discordantwritings Cross Guild/GN!Reader

✅ I'm sorry, I just care for you by @ladymictez Mihawk/M!Reader

✅ I'll crawl home to her by @lover-from-the-past Crocodile/GN!Reader

✅ Them asking you out by @merbear25 Cross Guild/M!Reader

✅ Intimidation by @mostlymihawk Mihawk, Shanks, Koby/GN!Reader

✅ Amor Fati by @lady-of-endless Crocodile/GN!Reader

✅ Our Treasure by @lumiolivier Cross Guild/F!Reader

🔞Confronts you after a spicy dream by @wispitty Crocodile, Mihawk, Shanks, Law, Marco, Ace, Corazon/F!Reader

Germa

✅ Trouble by @zaimta Niji/GN!Reader

Red Haired Pirates

✅ Together by @cinnbar-bun Benn/F!Reader

✅ He's in love with you by @fanaticsnail Benn/F!Reader

Chasing Constellations by @pandora-writes-one-piece Shanks/GN!Reader

✅ Intimidation by @mostlymihawk Mihawk, Shanks, Koby/GN!Reader

🔞 Calling them Daddy (pt.2) by @maddddstuff Zoro, Shanks, Smoker/GN!Reader

✅ Enemies to lovers by @creati-bunny Shanks/GN!Reader

🔞Confronts you after a spicy dream by @wispitty Crocodile, Mihawk, Shanks, Law, Marco, Ace, Corazon/F!Reader

✅ I'm Your Husband by @inseobts Zoro, Sanji, Law, Shanks, Ace/F!Reader

Heart Pirates

✅ When they get jealous by @vampiric-tempt Zoro, Crocodile, Law/GN!Reader

✅ Children by @penkura Law/GN!Reader

🔞 Pure honey by @becertainlust Law/GN!Reader

🔞Confronts you after a spicy dream by @wispitty Crocodile, Mihawk, Shanks, Law, Marco, Ace, Corazon/F!Reader

✅ I'm Your Husband by @inseobts Zoro, Sanji, Law, Shanks, Ace/F!Reader

Whitebeard Pirates

✅ Princes of Pining by @thetrasha Sanji, Ace, Buggy, Brook/F!Reader

🔞Confronts you after a spicy dream by @wispitty Crocodile, Mihawk, Shanks, Law, Marco, Ace, Corazon/F!Reader

✅ I'm Your Husband by @inseobts Zoro, Sanji, Law, Shanks, Ace/F!Reader

Kid Pirates

🔞 Soft Hearted by @2b4st4r Doflamingo, Crocodile, Katakuri, Buggy, Lucci, Kid, Barolomeo/GN!Reader

🔞 Feet by @fanaticsnail Heat/GN!Reader