#thank you for sending this request

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

Dear Nemo, so nice to see you back! for the meme game, can you make one for Jacob and Dottie as a ship? I miss seeing them on my dash.

Hello Hello Duckling! So nice to see you in my inbox! I was so happy to see your ask! (and sorry for taking so long in answering! I appreciate your patience! I hope you don't mind but I took the chance to make this meme for Jacob and Dottie a bit farther ahead in their story than what I usually draw/write.)

✨JOTTIE (JacobxDorothea)🎩

MOODBOARD

PLAYLIST:

"Temple of Thought" - Poets of The Fall

"Amaranthine" - Amaranthe

"My Love Will Never Die" - Claire Wyndham

"Dancing on Broken Glass" - Poets of The Fall

"Jealous Gods" - Poets of The Fall

"War" - Poets of the Fall

QUOTES

“If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever.”

― Alfred Tennyson

“I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone”

― J. R. R. Tolkien

“You make me thank god for every mistake I ever made, Because each one led me down the path that brought me to you.” ― Pablo Neruda

“I choose to love you in silence… For in silence I find no rejection, I choose to love you in loneliness… For in loneliness no one owns you but me, I choose to adore you from a distance… For distance will shield me from pain, I choose to kiss you in the wind… For the wind is gentler than my lips, I choose to hold you in my dreams… For in my dreams, you have no end.” ― Rumi

THEIR AESTHETIC:

A walk along the Thames in the dead of the night with the stars as their companions and protectors; an impromptu dance on cobblestone and the beating of their hearts as the sole music that gives them rhythm; a sweet song he hums with his low voice; a glance that alone speaks of years spent together, of hardship fought and conquered, of peace finally found; low laughter shared at a memory of the family they created; a morning spent in bed, cuddling and laughing together; the perfume of orange blossom and smoked pipe; a stack of letters neatly preserved if a little worn out for all the times they had been read; a violin playing and a voice singing the song of their hearts, just for his ears alone; warm tea sipped together in front of the fireplace; a soft blanket shared together; falling asleep on a worn-out sofa in each other's arms, the only place where they feel safe enough to let go of all worries; hearing the beating of his heart, strong and steady, just as he is; hearing her breathing while asleep, safe and sound in his arms.

[loveafterlife]

"i shine only with the light you gave me,"

[mirrored-muse]

OMGGG I NEED MORE SHAUNA SHIPMAN FROM YOU YOU DO HER SO RIGHTTTT

can you please do one where shauna sees reader interacting with people and is always following and staring and reader is kind of scared but shauna is just like "please dont be scared 🥺"

And they smooch 😛

ᴛᴏᴜɢʜ ʟᴏᴠᴇ | ꜱ.ꜱ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1176

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀ ᴅɪꜱᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏɴꜰʀᴏɴᴛ ʜᴇʀ.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ꜱʜɪᴘᴍᴀɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴀ/ɴ: ʜɪ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴍ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛɪɴɢ!!! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ <3 ʟᴏᴡᴋᴇʏ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴄᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ᴏᴋᴀʏ. ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ, ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ.

It starts with an unwavering stare.

Not subtle at all. Though Shauna Shipman was never the subtle type. You’d feel her eyes on you in the mornings while you stirred what passed for breakfast that day, or at night when you curled up in your blanket near the edge of camp. You caught her once, standing near the trees with her arms crossed like she was on guard duty, except the only thing she seemed interested in guarding was you.

She never said anything. Just stared at you, jaw tight, eyes hard like she was trying to figure something out.

You assumed you were next on her hit list.

Because everyone knew Shauna was the meanest girl out here. Sharp-tongued, hollow-eyed, always cold and bitter. People didn’t just talk back to her. They barely looked her in the eye. But for some reason, whenever you caught her looking, she didn’t look away.

It made you uneasy. Not because you thought she’d hurt you, if she wanted to, she would’ve done it already. No, it was the intensity of it. The way her gaze felt like it was going straight through you.

You didn’t know her well. She mostly kept to herself unless she was snapping at someone, or trying to make a point about something. You’d seen her laugh exactly once, and it was more of a scoff.

Later she started showing up wherever you were.

If you were collecting water, Shauna would be there, arms crossed, leaning against a tree, just watching you work. If you were with Akilah gathering mushrooms, or berries in the forest, Shauna would “just be out for a walk.” If you were by the fire, she’d sit nearby, silent, always facing you. If you were helping someone else, Natalie, Van, Lottie- she’d be nearby, watching, her mouth a thin line.

No one dared to say anything about it. Not to her face. They weren’t that stupid.

—

It all comes to a head late one afternoon. You’re lugging a bucket of water back to camp, sweat clinging to your skin uncomfortably when Shauna steps out from behind a tree like she was waiting for you there. Like she knew you’d pass by.

You freeze, nearly dropping the bucket.

Her eyes sweep over you, then settle on your face.

“Do you ever stop working?” she mutters, tone flat.

You blink. “I- what?”

“You’re always helping someone. Lottie. Nat. The rest of them.” Her gaze narrows. “Don’t you ever think maybe they don’t deserve it?”

You shift the weight of the bucket. “We all need each other, right?”

Shauna snorts. “That’s cute.”

She takes a step closer and you tense.

Because now she’s right in front of you, closer than she’s ever let herself get, and there’s something in her expression that pins you in place. You don’t move, don’t speak, don’t even breathe.

She notices.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” she says quietly, voice low and surprisingly raw. “You don’t have to look at me like that.”

You stare at her. “You follow me around all day. I don’t even know you.”

“Yeah.” Her jaw works. “I know. That’s the problem.”

There’s a moment of silence and you’re not sure what to do. You swallow hard, looking like you’re working up the courage to ask something.

Shauna shifts, and her fingers flex at her sides like she doesn’t trust herself not to reach out.

You try to ignore the way your heart stutters in your chest.

“I don’t get you,” you say, voice quieter now. “You barely talk to anyone, but you’ve been… watching me. For weeks.”

“I know,” she says. Blunt. Unapologetic.

“Why?”

Her eyes flick down to your lips, then back up again.

And that’s when it hits you, this isn’t about suspicion, control, or even boredom. This is something else entirely.

Shauna exhales through her nose. “Because you’re the only person here who doesn’t make me want to rip my own hair out.”

You stare at her.

She says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Like it’s not the most fucked-up kind of compliment you’ve ever gotten.

You want to laugh or run, maybe both.

“You’re mean to everyone,” you say.

“I know.”

“You’re mean to me, too.”

Shauna’s jaw clenches. Her voice drops, rough like gravel. “You didn’t seem to mind.”

You open your mouth to argue, but you don’t.

Because maybe you didn’t mind it. Maybe her dry little jabs, her narrowed eyes, the way she watches you like she’s memorizing your every move, maybe it made something good twist in your stomach. Maybe you liked the way she made everything else seem to fade out. Maybe you liked her.

The silence hangs, thick as the humid air around you.

Shauna steps in again, closer this time. You could touch her if you leaned forward half an inch. Her fingers brush against your wrist like she’s testing the weight of the moment.

“I’m not good at this,” she mutters.

“Talking?”

Her lips twitch, almost a smirk. “That too.”

Your chest rises, tight and fast. “What else?”

Her gaze burns.

“This.”

Then she’s kissing you.

It’s not slow, not careful, Shauna kisses like she wants to eat you, sharp, hungry, desperate. Her hands grip your jaw, her fingers digging into your cheeks, as she backs you into the nearest tree before you can think.

Your bucket hits the dirt with a dull thud.

Neither of you notice.

You gasp against her mouth, and she takes advantage of it, tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your knees feel like they might buckle beneath your weight. She crowds into your space, palms flat against the tree on either side of your head now, caging you in like she owns you.

And god, maybe she does.

Her teeth catch your bottom lip just enough to sting, and you whimper into her mouth, clutching at the hem of her jacket like it’s the only thing holding you up.

When she finally pulls back, she’s panting. Her pupils are blown wide, her cheeks are flushed, and she looks at you like she wants to devour you whole.

You’re dazed, lips swollen, breath uneven.

Shauna’s eyes drag over your face, slow and calculating. Like she’s trying to decide what to do with you now that she has you.

You’re the first to speak, voice barely steady. “You… really don’t do subtle, do you?”

Shauna huffs, something like a laugh caught in her throat. “Didn’t think subtle was gonna work on you.”

There’s a flicker of something behind her eyes, uncertainty, maybe. But it’s gone as fast as it came.

“You okay?” she asks, but it doesn’t sound soft. It sounds like a demand. Like you better be.

“I think so,” you breathe.

Shauna’s eyes drag over your face like she’s trying to memorize your features. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not sorry.”

You blink. “I didn’t say you should be.”

She smirks. “Let’s get back to camp before the others come looking for us and ruin it.”

[sabos-husband]

Hi! was hoping for a request (this might get really specific) reader as a strawhat member who grew up with luffy (by extension also ace and sabo) back in foosha village, but actually used to be a slave for the celestial dragons before she arrived there, maybe never told luffy because in her mind, luffy was the epitome of freedom and she was ashamed of her past. The scenario I had in mind for the reveal was maybe in the middle of battle, her clothes gets torn and her mark is seen, maybe some strawhats have an idea of that mark is (maybe jinbei, robin and alike) while others don't (ussop? maybe?), while making the enemies ridicule her and how the strawhats react, but you can choose another scene that you think are more fitting! i just wanted to see how you'd write luffy because i love your writing style! the way you write flows perfectly and it's never out of character, you're my current fav writer on tumblr! so thank you!

★ Around the World

Monkey D. Luffy and Reader ★

Fishman Island Spoilers!! ~ Straw Hat!Reader ~ Feminine Reader (she/her) ~ Hurt/Comfort

a/n: Aww, that's so sweet of you! I appreciate that so much! Specific asks are wonderful, it makes it easier to write something as close as possible to what you want. Thank you for the request <3 I put the majority of this between Fishman Island and Punk Hazard, but there aren't major spoilers. Sorry this took a while!

As well, there's description of the reader's history with slavery and the trauma that came from that. I left it vague for the most part, though.

For so much of your life, Luffy's been a constant. Even when you ran around Gray Terminal with Sabo and Ace, terrorizing all the people you could find for all the money you could grab, Luffy wasn't far behind for most of it. It took the Bluejam Pirates torturing Luffy for hours before his loyalty dawned on the three of you.

It then took Bluejam setting fire to Gray Terminal for you to truly consider Luffy special.

When Sabo took to the sea, swallowed by flame, you held Luffy tight as he wailed. When Ace left for the sea, aided by nothing but a burlap sack on his shoulder and the wind in his sails, Luffy had promised he would follow. When Luffy left for the sea, you were there, standing by his side. His very own first mate, meant to weather the Grand Line by his side.

You hoped with all your heart it'd stay that way. You hoped that it was all he'd know about you—you, his first mate, with nothing else of her past beyond the Grey Terminal's walls and Foosha Village's people.

Of course, nothing you want ever comes so simply.

You can still remember the shrieks of laughter that burst from Luffy as you both clambered into barrels—it made sense that he would wind up into trouble on the sea, but the first day takes the cake!

Your life has been non-stop ever since. From the very moment you both step foot on Shells Town with Koby in tow, the crew grew and grew to numbers that made your pride in Luffy bloom.

Zoro was tough with a sword and reliable when you need him, but his difficulty with directions always made your head spin. Nami was quick with her hands and quicker with her mind, just like how she could never stand to let a Berri slip by. Usopp was sharp as a tack with his constant innovations and steady sharpshooting, even when he ran at ten knots an hour away from danger. Sanji was nothing short of a first-rate chef and one of the strongest men you knew, despite how often he lost himself in the wild pursuit of women.

Then there came the Grand Line. It brought Chopper, Robin, Franky, Brook, Jinbei; thinking about the people Luffy drew to himself never failed to bring a smile to your lips. It's not like you could ever speak against them for their affection towards the captain—it's what brought you away from the safety of Foosha Village as well, skirting past the World Government you hated and feared for all your life.

It's like second nature, how much you love Luffy. Every single one of you would give anything for your captain.

"Anything" changes for you sometimes, though. Late into the night, long after the moon took its place in the sky, you wrestled with the dark. Could you keep this secret from your captain? From Luffy, the person you've known all your life?

(No, you'd remind yourself, not all your life.)

You think of the little boy you grew up alongside with, with a smile so bright you had to shield your eyes. The wind whipping his hair and threatening to carry away his straw hat as he lights up with laughter. You think of how your captain looks at you with the stars in his eyes, declaring that he will be the next King of the Pirates, and you believe him with all your heart.

Even after Ace died, his flames swallowed up in magma, you were there two years later. Luffy had gone through hell and back with you—couldn't that be enough?

It was thoughts like those that kept your secrets to yourself.

It was some foolish, childish part of you that thought you could have kept it up forever.

~

The day was as usual. It was nice, even. You had just finished helping Sanji with the groceries—to his chagrin, of course.

As much as he adores your company, he detests making such a sweet lady do manual labor for him, and he lets you know. Often. It was charming for the first while, but by the time you help Sanji put away the groceries, you're just glad it's over with.

The snack he rewards you after with, though, makes you sure that you'll help him next time. After he waves you off to begin lunch prep, you're quick to escape back to the docks.

You have some time to kill, you think. It's the last stretch until the log pose is finished setting and you've sort of lost track of the group... Thinking back, Zoro and Usopp got tied together, so you don't have to worry about searching for the poor swordsman. Nami stole Chopper to carry the clothes she was planning to get with Robin, while Brook and Franky were the ones assigned to watch the ship. That just leaves you with... Oh, seas.

There's a burst of screams that tear through the town's square, punctuated by a shriek of excited, almost maniacal laughter.

You're missing Luffy.

You're off like a shot towards the commotion before you can even think, weaving and pushing your way past the people. The crowd thickens as civilians shove past you. It's like swimming up river, but with every step you take, that familiar laughter gets closer.

When you finally burst from the mob, your feet catch on an unconscious marine. You stumble forward.

It's like breaking through a shield into a bubble—a ring of civilians gather to enclose Luffy as he's circled by marines, too duty-bound to flee but too cautious to fight.

Your captain hasn't put nearly as much thought into his approach. He barrels fists-first into the nearest hoard; the soldiers go flying like playing cards against a cannon. Sure it's charming, but he was supposed to be on board the Sunny, like, a hour ago.

So, Luffy deciding to gather the marines?

It sure isn't ideal.

Gathering your courage and tossing aside your exhaustion, you steel your nerves to storm the castle and extract your captain. And speak of the devil; Luffy whips his head around to stare at you.

"Oh! Hey!!" Luffy yells, with just a bit of manic glee. Great. You step forward—

—And a marine steps in your way. Really great.

As you fall into your fighting stance, you watch your captain dart from view. Well, whatever. You'll find him after you kick this guy's ass.

The marine wielded an odd weapon, like brass knuckles with claws soldered onto the palm. He hadn't bothered to clean the last victim's blood from it, and if the rust near the joints were to tell you anything, it was clear that he neglected to clean the blood of anyone from the weapon.

It feels like a warning.

It feels like a trophy.

Your captain rockets past him without a second thought (it's unlikely there was ever a first thought) to explode into another group of soldiers. It's like dynamite dropped in a haystack, the way navy officers go flying here and there.

The marine's eyes fall on you.

You can barely remember the fight afterwards, shamefully. You remember how it starts though.

He lunges at you with the speed of an animal, his clawed hands outstretched to sink into your flesh.

You dodge, he pivots, you aim to strike before he finds his footing—every move you make is to drive you closer to Luffy so you can cut and run.

Your mindlessness makes you sloppy. You don't even notice the way you're babying your secret, cradling it away from the fight. Of course that fucking marine notices.

Seas, you don't even know this marine's name, and yet he could still read you like a fucking book.

It's your last mistake.

When he slips to the side, too close for comfort, you jump back. His hand raises to tear out your eyes.

You raise your arms to guard, falling for the feint—the marine weaves past you, bearing his claws, and digs into your flesh.

It's over before you can even feel the pain.

You barely hold back a yell as you leap back, clutching your body. Warm blood trickles down the strike until it stained your clothes, sending panic shooting up your spine.

Like a curse from whatever gods left, that damn marine had struck you where you were weakest. There wasn't any time—by the time you whip around to clutch the wound, to hide your shame, it was too late.

"That pirate! She's... branded!"

A chorus of gasps tear through the crowd like a terrible symphony. You cling to the ribbons of your ruined attire like it could still save you.

Shadows claw at your vision as you struggle to breathe. Warm blood trickles down your limbs and your mark aches with a fresh, searing pain—it's grown with you, stretching over your skin in a reminder you can only try to forget.

You hear Robin gasp like she was struck herself. Oh seas, when did she arrive? You want to tuck yourself into a ball and hide from the prying eyes boring into your skin. You're sure she understands, if only because she shares your terror of who gave you this cross to bear, but it scares you. Somewhere, Usopp murmurs to her, "what is that?"

They know. They know.

The marine barks out in a fit of laughter, teeth bared and fingers curled around his claws. "What the hell is Straw Hat doing with government property?"

You think of Foosha Village, dodging your family and bathing in the river at night. You think of the clothes you had to give Makino back, too ridden by fear to wear them.

You think of your crew, sleeping soundly while you were working up the nerve to change your clothes in the dark. You think of Nami, with her skin graft and her new tattoo and the jealousy so strong you choke on it every time you see it. You think of how no one knows what was before that pinwheel tattoo except for the people she wants to know.

You think of your captain. You think of Luffy.

Oh seas, Luffy.

Tears cloud your eyes as you struggle to breathe. When you turn to your captain, you can barely see him—your vision swims, revealing splotches of color you'd recognize anywhere.

His haki rolls off in waves, so suffocating you can taste his rage on the back of your tongue. You see soldiers buckle and civilians collapse.

Your words escape before you can even think.

"Luffy, help...!"

A fist rockets past you. The sound of crunching bone hits you as air whips your cheeks. A mangled yell of pain is the last thing you hear from the marine.

"She doesn't," your captain growls, "belong to anybody."

~

You're brought into the medbay as soon as the Sunny left the docks. The silence is suffocating. You could barely look at Chopper as you shed your clothes, letting it slip until your shame was bare.

If you could guess, you'd bet it was nothing but professional courtesy that's keeping Chopper from reacting. That fucking mark takes up almost the entirety of the flesh, like a wound that can never heal.

The young doctor is kind when he cleans the blood. His touch hovers above your laceration when you hiss and tense. He's patient too, only continuing his work when you allow him to.

You hate this. Seas, you fucking hate this. You slump forward when Chopper continues his work.

You both pretend to not notice the tears that fall.

When he backs away, wound cleaned and bandaged, you don't turn to look him in the eye. You just turn your head and nod at Chopper.

The doctor straightens up like he always does after he works, but there's a new nervousness to him. His hooves are pressed together, like he's trying to quell the shaking. It makes you grit your teeth.

"The wound isn't bad," he says quickly, "but you'll need to rest. As for t-the rest, I couldn't..."

You nod. "Thanks, Chopper. You don't have to worry about... that. You're the best."

You watch the tension evaporate as he grins at you, leaning side to side. "That doesn't make me happy, you bastard!" He giggles, spinning. He sways a bit longer before he tamps it down, clearing his throat.

"But," he says clearly, "you can talk about it—"

"—Chopper—" you try to say.

"—Listen! It's important!" Chopper stands straighter like it'll give him the confidence his next words demand. "I-If you don't want to talk about it to me, it's okay. But... you should talk to someone. Nami, or Robin, or maybe- maybe if we call Jinbei, he would understand—"

"Chopper," you cut through. It hurts your heart to see the young doctor wilt. "It's okay. Thank you, but I'm alright."

"Okay... But- consider it? Please?"

You look away. "I will," you murmur.

Even though you don't see his face, you know Chopper knows you're lying. You know he won't push you farther, though. He hops down off his stool, shucks off his doctor's coat, and offers you the spare clothes Nami had lent you. She was kind enough to waive the fee this time too. You can't find it in you to appreciate it.

Chopper turns away as you get dressed again, which makes you smile. It makes you feel like you have some control again.

(You can't help but study your bandages. They're wrapped snug around you, but the edges of the brand sticks out like a hand print seared into your skin. You can still see the three pointed claws under the stark white of gauze.

It's the first time in a while you've really observed it. Every other time you forced yourself to look, all you could see was the red-hot brand and the wicked smiles of the demons who held it.

It's just as ugly as you remember.

You wish you had killed that marine, even if it wouldn't have changed anything.)

When you finish getting dressed, you signal to Chopper. He turns around, offers you a smile too bittersweet for someone of his youth, and reaches for the door.

"Oh, Luffy," Chopper comments idly. You can't stop how you flinch at the sound of his name.

You were dreading seeing him. It makes you want to cry again; how long has it been since you've dreaded being near Luffy?

The ringing in your ears swallow up the gentle words Chopper offers. Your bandages crush your ribs as you try to breathe—there isn't enough air, like that fucking marine took it all when he- when he—

The hands on your face smell like sun-warmed rubber. It's hard to say they're cradling your face, when Luffy just smacked his palms against your cheeks and squished them together until you were looking at him. When you blink, he blinks back at you.

"Are you there?" Luffy asks simply.

"Um, y-yes Captain," you force out. He nods thoughtfully.

Though, Captain isn't the right moniker. You aren't talking to isn't Captain Monkey D. Luffy, world-renowned Worst Generation pirate, capable of toppling kingdoms and challenging the World Government, feared by the powerful and adored by the powerless.

No, the boy in front of you is simply Luffy. The Luffy you've cherished since you were small, with a smile so bright and a heart so full—for all your life, you've never known how you got so lucky to have him.

Luffy pushes you to sit before he flops down next to you, bobbing with the mattress springing under his weight. You avoid his eye.

"You have something," Luffy states simply. It isn't a question, nor an accusation. It makes you flinch regardless—through all your tears, you can barely see the way your hands ball into fists in your lap.

He waits until you can find your words once again. It's kinder than you deserve.

"D-Do you- want to see it?"

"I don't care." Luffy just sort of... tilts his head at you. "I want to see you."

It's such a simple sentiment. It makes you feel like you've swallowed a thousand blades.

"I'm-... I didn't- I'm sorry, Luffy," you force out. The nails you dig into the stark white gauze don't put any pressure into the skin below it. Luffy frowns anyways.

"You can't apologize," he states simply. "You don't have to."

"But I- I lied—"

"It's okay." Luffy kicks his feet out. "I know you. I don't care about the rest."

All your words slip from your mind. If Luffy minds the silence, he doesn't show it.

Shame floods your chest. All these years hiding your past, unraveled just like that. You stare at your lap.

"They," you admit softly, "had me for so long. I- I never thought I'd be free."

He doesn't respond. You don't need him to—the words rush out before you can think. You stare into your open hands.

"W-When I escaped, I promised myself something. I said, they'll never control me ever again. But- I just... I've always been so scared! It's like- It's like I never even left—"

"Sabo is dead," Luffy says suddenly. "Ace is dead."

When Luffy looks forward, it isn't at Chopper's desk. It isn't at the medicine scattered along its surface, nor is it the kit the doctor had used to patch up your wounds. No—Luffy's gaze pierces farther, looking past the desk and the ship and the sea.

When Luffy looks forward, it's into the fire he left behind.

"But you aren't. You escaped. You're here with me."

Even without words, you understand. You can see the fire, too. "I am."

"You're not theirs anymore. You're mine," Luffy says just as suddenly, "but you aren't mine."

You don't respond. You wouldn't know how even if you tried.

Luffy turns to you with the same inferno that swallowed up your shared home. "You're my crew. You're my first mate. But I don't own you. No one does. That brand doesn't mean anything."

Before you can gather your thoughts, you feel Luffy's hand press his straw hat into your lap. It feels as warm as the sun he had been standing in just moments before. Luffy grabs at your hands to wrap them around its brim.

"You don't belong to anybody."

You could cry.

Luffy shakes your shared hold. "Say it."

"I-I..." You sniffle, "I don't..."

Luffy's eyes don't look away from you. They aren't mean, nor are they worried—they're fierce, just as sure of your power as they were the day he met you.

"I don't," you say finally, "belong to anybody."

When you collapse into his arms, shaking with every sob that wracks through your body, there is no shame when his hands brush over your mark. All you feel is warmth as he pulls you tighter.

You're not property. You're free.

You're a pirate—and no one is freer than a pirate.

[noorpersona]

Hey I really love the way you write it’s so fun to read and really fits the characters. I wanted to request you making small drabbles or a series on how the haikyu characters would treat you while youre pregnant. If it’s something you don’t want to write no worries. 🩷

OMGG yesss I love that idea 🙈🙈🙈 It goes so well with my other mini-series ehehe, I'm 100% adding it to the roster!! Thank you for your sweet words, they never fail to make my day.

For you! Gorgeous Human!! Enjoy <333 --

Pregnancy: Ushijima

Ushijima has been overprotective since the very beginning.

The second those two lines showed up on the test, it was like a switch flipped in him. He became your personal guard dog, nurse, chauffeur, meal planner, and human forklift all rolled into one stoic package.

It was kind of sweet—at first. The way he’d gently tug your hand away if you tried to carry anything heavier than a spoon. The way he’d Google symptoms with intense focus, like your morning sickness was a tactical challenge he could overcome with enough research. The way he sat through every prenatal appointment like it was the Olympics and he was preparing to win gold in fatherhood.

But by the third trimester?

You’re one more “let me do it” away from committing actual murder.

“I’m gonna change the sheets,” you say, bracing a hand on your lower back as you waddle toward the linen closet.

Before you even touch the doorknob, he’s there. He must have materialized from the floorboards.

“I’ll do it,” he says.

You blink up at him. “Wakatoshi—”

“The mattress is heavy.”

“I’m not flipping it! I’m just changing the sheets.”

Still, he reaches over you and pulls out the linens like it’s already been decided. “Sit down. I’ll take care of it.”

You stare at him, nostrils flaring, lips twitching, but you don’t fight it. Not yet.

Then come the groceries. The laundry. The vacuum you so much as glance at. And every time, he gets to it before you can even try. Every time, he gently insists. Every time, you swallow the urge to scream.

Until now.

You step onto the footstool to reach the top kitchen cabinet—one single bowl, that’s all you want—and he appears in the doorway like a haunted house spirit.

“Don’t,” he says sharply.

That’s it. That’s the moment you snap.

“USHIJIMA,” you explode, flinging your arms wide in a very dramatic but very off-balanced motion. “I am pregnant. Not porcelain. I can do things! I can move and lift and stretch and reach and I would like to do one thing—just ONE THING—by myself without you treating me like I’m going to spontaneously combust!”

He pauses. Blinks. That stoic face giving you absolutely nothing.

“…You were wobbling,” he says.

“I always wobble! I’m basically a giant, sentient bowling pin at this point!”

“I don’t want to take chances,” he says, calm as ever.

“Well I want to do something myself!”

He hesitates. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head. Eventually, he steps back and says simply, “Okay. Do it.”

Oh. Oh he did not just call your bluff.

You puff out your chest, grab the cabinet door for balance, and go for it. Fingers brush the edge of the bowl, victory within reach—

—and then you realize you can’t quite twist back down. You’re halfway off the stool and stuck. Pride flickers. Stomach tightens. Arms flail just a little.

“…Toshi?” you call, voice small. “I, um. I need help.”

He’s there in seconds.

Strong arms wrap around you, lifting you like you weigh nothing. He sets you gently on the floor like a queen being lowered onto her throne.

“You were saying?” he murmurs, hand on the small of your back.

You scowl. “I hate you.”

“You don’t,” he replies smoothly. “You just hate that I’m right.”

You slump against his chest, bowl in hand, your forehead hitting the middle of his sternum. His hand rubs up and down your spine. You sigh dramatically.

“You’re so annoying.”

“And you’re still holding the bowl.”

“…Shut up.”

[hootyhoowoo]

i saw a post about art reqs

i humbly ask for a happy white lotus Binghe bc he is my son and i lobe him

(thank you so much for doing art reqs ❤️❤️)

I think lotus Binghe would be happiest when he’s cooking for his Shizun c:

[floralfaced]

draw suggest: frisk and asriel making food together~?

In which Frisk wanted to make something nice, and he helps them acclimate to his tastes LOL

[naturesass]

For a drawing request, the twins making a fort?

Only if you want to though

the boys just bore out mabel too fast sometimes

[kamaluhkhan]

Heya for hot ghoul summer could I have Abby Anderson, Supernatural with a bit of mutual pining, number 9 and door number 1 please :)

thank you sm for your request!!! i decided to combine it with another one since they were very similar…. i completely forgot to include prompt #9 but i hope you still enjoy!!! 

also — i wrote this blurb as a part 2 of this request (werewolf!abby has my heart rn)

pairing: werewolf!abby anderson x vampire!reader word count: 6k (oops) tropes: mutual pining + jealousy + accidental love confessions summary: you and abby go on an impromptu road trip to forks, washington while navigating (and maybe indulging in?) your feelings for each other.  author’s note: basically twilight if edward and jacob are lesbians yearning for each other! cw for horror themes (blood + biting + death; reader is a vampire and abby is VERY into it) + smut (mdni!) 

this blurb is part of my hot ghoul summer celebration — requests are still open and i’d love to write more, so keep ‘em coming!

six nights later, abby shows up at your apartment, tail between her legs.

she knocks so loud that you’d think a thunderstorm entered the building, but you don’t open the door. you indulge a glance through the peephole, and that was your first mistake; you had hoped you’d be strong enough to ignore her, but abby looks like a wreck, and not the fun kind. 

her braid has unravelled, hair an absolute mess and deep shadows have settled under her eyes. she’s gnawed her lips bloody, and when abby opens her mouth to speak, pleading for you to give her another chance, you can see how her canines have lengthened, now more like fangs than teeth. 

“i know, i know, that i deserve to be turned away, after what i did, but please don’t. i need you,” abby whines, pupils blown so wide that only a sliver of blue remains.

“you already got what you needed from me,” you deadpan. 

abby perks up slightly at the sound of your voice. 

“i’m sorry, okay? i….i know that i messed up. i’m so, so sorry — please, baby, please let me in. please, i need to explain…”

you sigh deeply; abby does the same from the other side of the door, leaning her shoulder against the wooden frame.

“explain what?”

“that it was my fault, okay?” she confesses, voice trembling. “i’m the reason why ellie, jesse, and dina are dead.” 

“abby,” you say gently, softening as you hear her muffled sobs. “it wasn’t your fault.”

“no, you don’t understand, i killed our friends and then blamed you —”

you open the door before abby can finish. she stumbles at the sudden motion, but you grip her bicep. she looks at you like you’d just saved her life, when all you did was keep her from falling. her skin is warm under your touch; abby’s so strong, so alive, and you pull your hand away before you spiral into wanting more.

“that’s not what happened,” you tell her. 

abby stands upright and clears her throat. “but —”

“i need a drink.”

you leave her there as you head into the kitchen. you pull some mismatched mugs from the cupboard, glancing over at the doorway where abby watches you and waits. 

“you want some?”

“is that….?” she squints at the pitcher of deep red liquid that you pulled out from the fridge.

“it’s sangria.” you pour some into your favorite novelty mug — the one with cartoon fangs dripping in blood, and the words mornings suck in bright red lettering. an old friend had gotten it for you as a joke. you take a sip, noticing abby’s hesitation, so in hopes of lightening the mood, you add: “come inside, anderson. i only bite if you ask nicely.”

the corner of abby’s mouth quirks up slightly, and she finally enters your apartment. abby takes her time, removing her leather combat boots, much too heavy for the summer heat, and fixes her braid in an attempt to look more presentable. 

“i’ll have that drink,” she says as she takes a seat at the kitchen table. 

you pour her some sangria. it isn’t until you settle into the chair across from abby and hand her the mug that you realize it’s the jurassic park one that ellie always used when she’d come over. 

your heart aches, thinking about how ellie will never use that mug again. you’ll never scream the lyrics to avril lavigne songs with dina on the way to practice, or pretend to hate jesse for all the shit he’s put dina through, but secretly like having him around. 

you hate, absolutely hate, that you know what their blood tastes like. but that’s not what you’re concerned about now, not as you watch abby, her hand shaking as she takes a sip of her drink, thinking that she’s to blame. 

“abs, listen to me.” you reach across the table to place your hand on hers; you try not to take it personally when she flinches away, sensing how anxious and ashamed she’s feeling. “that morning, i saw the bodies before you did, okay? it wasn’t a werewolf attack.”

abby blinks at you, setting her mug down on the table so abruptly that you’re surprised it didn’t break.

“but i blacked out.” she licks her lips, the pink of her tongue visible for an enticing second. “and when i woke up, i could taste blood. it was sweet, like so sweet —” 

“before last week, hadn’t tasted vampire blood, had you?” abby shakes her head, watching you carefully as you continue to explain: “a vampire who feeds on humans — their blood is usually like that. teeth-achingly, sugar-rush sweet.”

“so….what are you saying?”

“well….okay, let’s say that you did blackout and go full werewolf.” you pause as abby takes a few nervous gulps of sangria. “but, i don’t know, maybe you went back to the cabin because you sensed danger, and knew that ellie, jesse and dina were being attacked. maybe you were too late, but fought with the vampire, or vampires, who killed them, and that’s why you tasted blood the next morning. trust me — that taste lingers, much longer than it has any right to.” 

abby’s quiet for a few seconds, then:

“you shouldn’t do that.”

you frown. “do what?”

“make me sound like a hero when i accused you of being a monster,” abby states plainly, avoiding your gaze. “i’m a monster. i feel like something inside me broke out, after i’ve spent so many years keeping it in a cage.”

you can’t say that you haven’t wrestled with similar demons. the truth is that abby blaming you, assuming that you massacred your own friends, burned more than any holy water ever thrown your way, felt more impossible to heal from than a wooden stake to the heart. 

but, now, here’s this beautiful girl in front of you, tears shining in her aquamarine eyes, fear and shame and regret coursing through her veins. this girl, who you’ve somehow developed more affection for than you’ve thought possible for years. maybe decades.

so, you swallow your hurt down with the rest of your red sangria, and let it dissolve in your stomach.

“i don’t blame you for thinking what you did,” you tell her. “i might not have killed them, but i did….i did feed from them — and, it’s definitely not the best look, a vampire standing over her dead friends, covered in blood. after i tasted you the night before, i just couldn’t….” you trail off, take a deep breath, hope that abby doesn’t realize what it means, that your eyes are still red. 

because you’re sure abby wouldn’t stay, maybe she wouldn’t even be so apologetic, if she knew that something’s broken loose within you, too, since that night. when you got back, you stole a day’s worth of supply from the hospital to help you transition from human to animal blood. 

just a taste, you had told yourself. just for now. 

you’d been back twice since then. 

“still — i hate that i….that i got angry at you,” abby continues. she reaches over and intertwines her fingers with yours. “i’m so fucking sorry. can you ever forgive me?”

you squeeze her hand. “i knew i had to, as soon as i saw those puppy-dog eyes of yours.”

abby laughs, a deep, soothing rumble, her smile now brighter than the full moon. 

“i missed you.” 

“i missed you, too,” you confess, barely a whisper. 

the kitchen table is small, and your knees knock together as you each instinctively shuffle in closer. you can almost taste her breath, sharp with lingering red wine. abby cups your cheek, her palm rough and warm against your skin. 

you want to kiss her. gods, you want to. 

right now, abby’s looking at you like you hung all the stars in the sky.

but you’re sure she wouldn’t want you. not like this. 

you pull away, and your heart shatters watching as abby tries to hide her disappointment.

“it’s late, uh, and you’re exhausted. you can stay here, if you want.”

(so, abby crashes on the couch while you go to your room, and you each pretend that you aren’t thinking about the other as you stare at the ceiling, alone and hungry.)

when you get up in the morning, abby’s already been up for hours, because of course she has. she’d gone out for a run, taken a shower, fetched the paper, and made a fresh pot of coffee. 

now, abby sits on the couch, flipping through one of your books.

“you know, i was the inspiration behind carmilla,” you tell her as you pour yourself some coffee. you add some milk and sugar before grabbing the paper and heading over to sit with her.

“really?” abby raises an eyebrow at you. she’s looking much more rested than before, and she’s wearing wire-frame glasses.

which you feel….completely normal about.

“no, i’m just messing with you,” you admit. “but that is a first edition.”

“yeah, right,” abby scoffs. “do you think all werewolves are just gullible, or just me?”

“just you,” you teases, nudging her knee with your foot. “it is pretty old, though. i got it from mary shelley’s second cousin’s great-great-great-granddaughter, whose dad used to run a rare bookshop.”

“and why, exactly, did she give you the book?”

“okay, fine — i took it on my way out after we, you know….” you smile sheepishly. “spent the night together.”

“oh my god.” abby sets down the book down gently on the coffee table. “i thought you didn’t sleep with humans.” 

you shrug. “i make exceptions.”

her glasses slip down slightly, and she readjusts them before extending her hand to you: “crossword?”

you give her part of the saturday morning paper as you browse local news. a comfortable silence settles as you both sip coffee, as you read and she works on the puzzle, occasionally mumbling to herself or asking you for help. you try to pay attention to whatever article’s on the page, but you can’t help it that your eyes wander. she’s not subtle, either, and you catch her staring at you once or twice, her eyes flitting back down and her cheeks flushed when she realizes she’s been caught.

“i’m not used to you in glasses,” you finally say.

“i need them for reading,” she explains. “i don’t usually, like, wear them around people because i know they make me look like a total nerd —” 

“that’s not what i was thinking,” you tell her. “you — i mean, the glasses — look really cute.”

“oh, um, t-thanks,” abby stutters, her cheeks now bright red. she clears her throat and glances back at her crossword. “name of a french singer and actress who was part of the french resistance during world war two?”

“josephine baker,” you answer with confidence.

abby scribbles it down, then taps her pen against the paper. “so, did the two of you ever….?” 

“yes. we were close,” you muse, smiling softly. “i got that from her apartment.” you gesture to the crystal cheetah figurine on your bookshelf. abby glances over, then narrows her eyes.

“wait a second. is that my copy of frankenstein?”

“o-oh, actually —”

before you can stop her, abby is pulling the book from the shelf and confirming her suspicions.

“i’ve been looking for this since april!” abby exclaims, thumbing through the pages. “damn, you’re like if the little mermaid was a lesbian vampire, hoarding these souvenirs from all the women you sleep with.”

you hide your nerves behind a smile. you know that it’s all in good fun, that abby’s just teasing you, so you don’t really feel like correcting her. 

because, here’s the thing: you and abby had taken the same literature class during spring semester, and the prof was very particular about students using the same editions of the required texts. one day, abby left one of her books in the locker room after practice; you thought it was yours at first, so you picked it up. you meant to give it back, but there was something so intimate about reading the little notes she’d written in the margins, which quotes she’d underlined and pages she’d dog-eared. 

all this to say — if you admitted to abby that, no, you didn’t take something from all the women you slept with, just the women you’d fallen in love with, then she would wonder why her copy of frankenstein is currently on your bookshelf, gathering dust.

instead, you roll your eyes playfully. “get back to your puzzle, nerd.”

thankfully, abby lets it go, and bounces back onto the couch as you flip to the next page. that’s when you see the headline — more animal attacks, more bodies found.

“abby.”

“if this is a story about how you fucked cleopatra’s distant relative and stole a fancy gold necklace afterwards, then i’m busy,” she jokes.

“okay, how old do you think i am?” you guffaw. “i’m serious though — take a look at this.”

the smirk on abby’s face fades as she starts reading the article that you hand her.

“fuck,” she mumbles, scanning the page once more before locking her gaze on you. “well, at least now we have a lead.”

“a lead?” you repeat. “a lead for what?”

“well, we have to track them down.” she throws down the newspaper and snatches the mug from your hand, heading to the sink. 

“um, i wasn’t done with that?”

abby isn’t listening; she rinses your mug, then hers, wipes her hands on the kitchen towel and grabs her phone and keys from the counter, moving with newfound urgency. the molasses-slow, domestic bliss you’d somehow stumbled into this morning dissolves into nothingness, like the sugar you’d stirred into your coffee. 

“we need to find out what happened that night. whatever or whoever this is, they’re gonna keep killing people,” abby says. “they’ve already killed our friends, and they’re not gonna stop. we have to stop them.”

you blink and watch as she laces up her boots. “you’re serious about this.”

“yes, i am,” abby explains. “are you coming with me?”

“obviously,” you scoff. you disappear into the bedroom to gather some things for the trip: a jacket, your wallet and phone, and your laptop. “but, before we drive four hours to forks fucking washington, let me send an email. i have some old friends living there right now. if we can meet up with them, we might be able to find out what they know.”

a muscle in abby’s jaw twitches. “your friends — they’re vampires, too?”

“yes,” you say, already drafting the message. “yes, they are.”

it’s a perfect summer day for an impromptu road trip, but instead of appreciating the scenery, your mind wanders to abby. 

last night, you almost kissed her. earlier this morning, she acknowledged how the two of you slept together. 

nothing more and nothing since. 

does that mean the sex between you was a one-time thing? or that it meant nothing to her? because, surely, if abby wanted more —

enough.

you need to find out what happened to your friends. you need to focus. 

it’s just a bit….difficult, with abby so close to you.

abby, who refuses to let you drive, has one hand on the wheel, the other resting patiently on her thigh. the sun peeks through the clouds, illuminating the curves of her muscles, painting her dark blonde hair golden. she nods along to whatever song plays on the radio, turns up the volume when you mention it’s one you like, and occasionally reaches over to take a sip of the drink you insisted on buying for her when she stopped for gas. you watch her throat bob as she gulps down the frozen blue raspberry drink.

“you know, these are pretty good,” she says, placing the cup back down in the cupholder. 

you hum in agreement. her lips are stained now, and you wonder how sweet she’d taste if you ran your tongue across them. 

abby switches over to the next lane, doing a double take after checking her blindspot. she notices that you’re staring, even though you’re wearing sunglasses.

“eyes on the road,” she teases.

“i’m not the one driving,” you quip, and turn to look out the window. 

an endless forest of trees whips by. from your peripheral vision, you can tell that abby steals glances at you, too. 

which means nothing, of course.

it also means nothing that your heart flutters when she opens the door like a goddamn knight when you’ve arrived at carver cafe, or that your entire body heats up when her fingers accidentally brush against yours as you both reach for the same menu. 

and, it’s definitely not a green-eyed monster that possesses abby when you tell her how, exactly, you know the cullens.

“so, we drove four hours to forks fucking washington to meet your ex-girlfriend?” abby huffs.

“ex-fling,” you clarify. “and now friend, who is going to tell us if she knows anything about the vampires who killed our friends.”

the waitress comes back with two steaming cups of coffee. you stir some sugar into your drink and tap the spoon against your ceramic mug. abby looks like she’s about to say something, but is interrupted by the diner front door swinging open.

alice waltzes in, looking exactly the same as the last time you saw her with wild hair and wonder-struck eyes. you get up to greet her; she joyfully brings you into a hug and kisses your cheeks until she notices abby sitting in the booth.

“when you said you wanted to meet, i didn’t realize you were bringing a guard dog,” alice says, voice low. “things between us didn’t end that badly.”

“she’s not a guard dog. her name is —”

“abby,” the woman in question sneaks up behind you. she places her hand against the small of your back, gentle yet protective. “i’m abby.” 

“nice to meet you, abby,” alice replies cooly. 

famously, vampires and werewolves do not get along, so you’re not entirely surprised that it’s a little tense as the three of you take your seats. alice slides in across from you and abby, and it’s obvious that the two of them are sizing each other up. abby has her arm thrown over the edge of the booth, inches away from your shoulders, like she’s marking her territory.

“thanks for meeting us,” you start. “i wish it were under, uh, better circumstances, but it’s nice to see you again.”

“yeah, of course. it’s been too long.” alice’s eye slide over to you, and she flashes a sickly sweet grin. “long enough for you to get a new pet. i didn’t think you were into doggy style.”

“watch it, bloodsucker,” abby snarls. 

“down girl,” alice chides, nothing short of condescending. “the whole big bad wolf thing doesn’t scare me.”

“maybe it should —”

“enough,” you snap. abby’s cheeks are flushed with anger (and maybe a hint of jealousy), teeth bared as she threatens to bite back. alice smirks, as though she’s prepared to do the same. call it an echo from generations of hatred or just plain old pettiness, but you do not have patience for this. “abs, why don’t you wait by the car?”

abby turns to you, softening. “but —”

you place a firm hand on her thigh, warm underneath your touch. “it’s been decades since alice and i have seen each other, so it’d be nice to have some one-on-one time.”

“i thought we weren’t here for that,” abby grumbles, but follows your instructions nonetheless. 

alice waits until the door shuts behind abby to lean in and whisper conspiratorially: 

“you know, most dogs need some training to learn better behavior —”

“i said enough, alice.” in a huff, you take off your sunglasses and place them on your head. “this is serious.”

“looks like it,” alice says, raising her eyebrow at you. “your eyes — they’re red. you’ve been feeding on humans again?”

alice’s observation causes moths to flutter in your stomach, which is growing emptier and more hollow by the hour.

you were in such a rush this morning, distracted by abby, and then this impromptu road trip, that all you’d taken was coffee. you had blood in your fridge; you should have just eaten before you left seattle, since it’s been almost a week since you had any. 

it’ll be fine.

you just need to wrap this up, and get home before it’s too late.

“i didn’t mean to go back,” you sigh. “but now that i have, i’m….working on it.” 

alice places her hand on yours sympathetically. when she makes contact, she freezes, just for a second, eyes going wide before she blinks back to you. 

“interesting.”

“what?” you wonder, pulling your hand away. “what did you see?”

alice hums.

“you’re assuming that your new puppy —” she stops herself when you narrow your eyes at her. “abby doesn’t know that you’ve been drinking human blood, and you’re scared what’ll happen if she finds out. don’t worry — she’ll be more than happy to help you with your cravings.”

your throat tightens when alice winks at you, somewhere between excited and terrified of what she’s implying. 

you can’t help but glance outside the window, where abby’s waiting by the truck. she’s leaning against the side, her sculpted biceps on display thanks to the grey wife-pleaser she’s wearing. abby put on her glasses and is finishing the crossword from this morning. her bottom lip is caught between her teeth as she concentrates.

objectively speaking, abby anderson is hot, all chiseled muscle and confidence. but she’s also fucking adorable, and that makes your stomach lurch with a different kind of hunger, one that is becoming much too distracting. 

abby glances up, directly at you, and you both look away, flustered.

alice flashes you a knowing smile as you try to compose yourself. 

“this is serious,” you repeat firmly. “we’re here because our friends were killed. by a vampire, maybe more, and it seems like they’re not stopping….” 

unfortunately, your diner reunion with alice was pretty much a dead end; all you got from it was an invitation to play baseball with the cullens, and a burger for abby as an apology for kicking her out so abruptly. she devours it; you try to quell your own hunger with more coffee as you watch her eat, but deep down, you know there’s only one thing that will satiate you.

it’s fine, you keep repeating to yourself. you’ll be home in no time.

except, a summer storm suddenly hits — thunder, lightening, torrential rain —  and abby decides that the roads are terrible, so it would be safer to take shelter for the night.

you’re so goddamn hungry. but, it’s abby’s car and she’s the one driving, so you’re ultimately not going to argue with her decision.

abby doesn’t seem the slightest bit phased by the sudden change in plans. one thing about her? she comes prepared. she has an entire bag packed with fresh clothes, a toiletry kit, some food and water, and extra cash, which she hands to the motel owner in exchange for a room key.

a room that has one bed, because of course.

“mind if i use the shower first?” you ask, searching for any opportunity to subtly distance yourself from her.

“all yours,” abby says. she throws her bag on the dilapidated chair in the corner and rummages through it. “here — i have extra.”

she tosses you some clothes, which you accept gratefully given yours are currently rain-soaked and freezing-cold. 

you had hoped the shower would offer some warmth, but the water barely gets up to 70 degrees. you give up after a few minutes and shut off the water. as you dry yourself with a sandpaper-like towel, the staticky voices of kirk and spock from an old episode of star trek cut through the silence; you smile to yourself, picturing abby curled up on the bed watching tv. 

sure enough, that’s what you see once you’ve opened the bathroom door. abby changed her clothes, too; you’re now both wearing plaid boxers, and she’s sporting a seattle women’s soccer shirt while you have on abby’s own jersey. it smells like her: fresh laundry, pine trees, and a hint of firewood. an absolutely delicious combination that you cannot indulge in. 

to your dismay, abby joins you in the bathroom. she has an extra toothbrush — obviously — so the two of you brush your teeth as kirk and the rest of the enterprise crew adventure through space in the background. 

you look up at the slightly foggy mirror, but all you can see are broken tiles, mysterious water stains, and abby reflecting back at you. she spits out a mouthful of toothpaste, white foam slightly tinted pink. apparently, abby has bleeding gums. 

your stomach growls. 

you try to ignore it as you rinse out your mouth. and then, suddenly — there’s a yelp, the sound of a mirror shattering, and the familiar, coppery scent of blood. 

abby’s blood. 

“what….the hell?” you ask, looking between the cheap mirror, now cracked upon impact, and abby’s bloody hand.

“shit….s-sorry.” abby takes a deep, shuddery breath. “i-it’s just…there’s a spider.”

“so you tried to slap her?” 

her cheeks start burning red. “i panicked.”

you bite your lip, both in an effort to keep from laughing and to prevent yourself from bending down to lick abby’s wound. instead, you find the eight-legged insect, scoop the little guy up with one of the styrofoam cups left by the out-of-order coffee machine, and bring her outside.

“thank you,” abby says, flashing you a wavering smile as you take a seat next to her on the bed. you try not to drool, watching as she tends to her cut hand. when you don’t respond, abby nudges you with your elbow. “you good?”

“o-oh, yeah, of course!” you clear your throat. “just a bit —”

“hungry?” abby guesses.

“i was gonna say tired.” 

abby hums and finishes by wrapping gauze around her hand. the cut didn’t seem deep, but it bleeds through, a bright red rose blooming across a stark white background. you pull your gaze away, instead locking your eyes on the tv.

“you sure that you’re not hungry?”

“yes.”

“yes, you’re sure — or yes, you’re hungry? when’s the last time you —”

“just drop it,” you interrupt. you shift as far away from abby as you can, without falling off the bed. 

abby drops it — for all of two seconds, before abruptly turning off the tv.

“hey! i was watching that.”

“if you’re hungry, you can drink from me,” she states matter-of-factly.

getting over the initial shock at the fact that you underestimated her observation skills — abby has probably known, this whole time, what it meant that your eyes turned from gold to red — you can’t help but be surprised at how forward she is.

“i can’t ask you to —”

“i’m offering,” she insists, shuffling closer to you. 

“i-i can’t. it’s not a good idea.”

“why not?”

“i don’t want to hurt you, abs.” your words come out soft, a little broken. you can’t help it, remembering what happened a week ago. the first time you tasted abby. right before all hell broke loose. 

“hey. hey.” abby places a comforting hand on your cheek. “i can take it. i’m a big bad wolf, remember?” 

“a big bad wolf who’s scared of spiders,” you mumble.

you just don’t understand. how can abby be scared of spiders but not scared of you?

“i trust you,” abby assures as though reading your thoughts. you can’t help but think back to a week ago, when she whispered the same sentiment to you. her thumb runs over your bottom lip, and it takes everything in you not to bite down. “i know you won’t hurt me.”

something about the sincerity of her voice causes you to change your mind; you tell her okay, thank her profusely, and guide her to sit up against the half-broken headboard. you swing one leg over her hips, effectively straddling her. as if on instinct, she places her hands on your hips and gazes up at you, waiting. 

“if you feel dizzy, tap me three times and i’ll stop right away,” you tell her. 

abby nods. 

you lean in, close enough that you can feel the butterfly-wing rhythm of her pulse against your lips. just when you’re about to sink your teeth in, you hesitate. you sit back, searching for any last minute hesitation on her end. 

“abby. are you sure about this?” 

“yes. you’ve bitten me before,” abby reasons. she looks up at you, eyes all glazed over.

“well, that was a different context —”

“oh my fucking — just bite me already,” abby practically growls, puppy dog eyes morphing into something feral. her reaction surprises you, intrigues you, tempts you. 

because it clicks, in that moment —

abby isn’t just offering to help you out of the goodness of her heart; something deep inside her wants this, craves you just as you’re craving her.

you dive in, teeth piercing through her skin. you start gently, slow and a bit timid, but then abby’s hands idly wander beneath your — her — shirt, claws scratching down your back like she begging for more. 

“keep going,” she tells you, voice rough. “harder, if you need to.”

and you do need to — because you’re ravenous, and very conscious of the growing heat between your legs as abby whimpers while you sink your teeth in deeper, suck a bit more harshly. 

you’re the one to pull away first, chest heaving and head spinning. you run your tongue over the teeth marks punctured into abby’s skin, lapping up every last drop. 

“thanks, abs,” you breathe, licking your lips to savour the taste of her. 

“y-yeah. anytime,” abby stutters, shifting underneath you. “you, uh, satisfied?”

you’re dizzy, the sudden burst of energy you usually get from ingesting blood increasing tenfold because it’s abby.

and, though you’ve just had a week’s worth of blood, you’re hungry for something else. 

“not quite,” you admit. you steady yourself by placing your hands on her strong shoulders. “i want more.”  

“so fuckin’ greedy,” she drawls, honey-soaked desire dripping from her words.

“maybe i am.” you raise an eyebrow at her. “what are you gonna do about it?”

a second passes, maybe two, and then — 

abby surges forward to close the gap between you, crashing her lips to yours, the taste of blood and sweet mint dancing across your tongues. she bites down on your bottom lip, and when you gasp, she pushes her tongue into your mouth, exploring every corner and crevice like she’s willing to consume you whole. you pull away, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to hers before she breaks it by licking her lips. she whines from the loss of contact, making up for it by leaning down to suck and nip at your jaw. 

“abby?”

“....yeah?” she mumbles the question against the crook of your neck.

“can i taste you?” you trail your fingers down her body, tease the waistband of her boxers so she understands your intentions. her eyes widen and she shudders when you reach a bit lower, tease the happy trail leading to where you want to go.

“yes.” 

neither of you want to waste any more time — abby tears off her shirt while you pull down her boxers, leaving her completely naked underneath you.

“you’re so fucking beautiful, abs,” you coo, drinking her in. your fingers pinch her hardened nipples, and abby shivers, bucks her hips upwards.

“fuck, baby….”

abby’s desperate moans, her thick whimpers, encourage you as you trail down her body, kiss every freckle and every scar. she get louder when you suck a bruise onto an inner thigh and starts begging you for more, which you’re not going to deny her. she’s dripping for you, after all, and it’s the least you can do. you sink two fingers into her cunt, run your tongue over her folds with purpose, until she’s too loud.

you think abby might cry when you rip yourself away from her pussy. you keep one hand between her legs, fingers still pumping inside her, while you use the other to grip her chin, prompting her to look at you. 

“you’re gonna have to be quieter, baby,” you tell her, half-apologetic, half-amused. “wouldn’t want to get a noise complaint, would we?”

abby shakes her head desperately. her hair is loose, falls in golden waves across the pillow like a halo. she bites down on her lip, so hard that her teeth break skin and a bubble of liquid crimson emerges. you can’t help yourself — you lick up the fresh blood before pressing your lips to hers once again. a groan rolls through abby’s body when she tastes herself; she surprises you by snaking her hand beneath the waistband of your (again, her) boxers. 

���shit,” she hisses when her fingers find the sticky mess between your legs. “you’re soaked.”

you giggle into the crook of abby’s neck, then inhale sharply when she pinches your clit. 

“l-like you’re not seconds away from r-ruining these sheets,” you manage between laboured breaths. you feel abby’s smile as she presses kisses into your skin, her index and middle finger slipping into your wanton heat and setting a relentless pace. 

it’s all a little messy, a little playful, and a little ruthless. 

you slip in another finger, press circles onto her clit with your thumb to coax more moans from those pretty lips of hers, swallowing the sound every time. you catch her at just the right angle, and she clenches around your fingers, warm and wet, her fingers only faltering slightly as she throws her head back in ecstasy. 

“so fucking pretty when you do that,” you gush, tangling your free hand into her hair. “fuck, i need to see that again — can you do that for me, abs? give me one more?”

“oh, baby….you’re so greedy,” she teases once more.

“and you love it.” you brush your fingers to where you had fed from her earlier. the smile you give abby is playful, yet sharp, as if to say: i want more. are you up for the challenge?

and abby anderson loves a challenge, so she fucks into you with newfound vigor until you’re whimpering and grinding down to meet every thrust. abby watches in awe, eyes dark like a summer storm.

“you’re right — i love how greedy you are,” she confesses, her words slightly slurred. she takes one of your nipples between her teeth and sucks, soaking through the cotton t-shirt you’re wearing, before doing the same to the other. “fuckin’ love how you taste,” she growls against your chest and curls her fingers, relishing in the moans that spill from your lips. “love how you pretty you sound for me, how you feel around my fingers…so soft and tight….i love your body and those gorgeous eyes of yours, always lookin�� at me like you wanna eat me alive….i fuckin’ love you, everything about you…”

“fuck, abs —”

you were already so close, and abby’s unexpected confession pushes you towards the edge. abby’s right there with you; you ride out your high together, delirious and euphoric. 

when you’ve both calmed down a bit, abby removes her fingers from your cunt; you groan at how empty you feel without her. you watch as she sucks her own fingers into her mouth, tasting you, before taking yours and doing the same to taste herself. abby puts on a show — she practically gags on them until drool and cum drip down her chin, and you decide you want a taste, too. you pull your fingers out with a pop, replacing them with your tongue.

abby mumbles something against your lips about taking a shower, asks if you want to join. 

“just gimme a second to catch my breath,” you say, collapsing onto the bed.

abby laughs. “i thought vampires didn’t get breathless.”

“you kinda have that effect on me, anderson.” abby walks back over to give you a quick peck on the cheek before disappearing into the bathroom.

while she’s in the shower, you stare up at the ceiling, replaying everything that just happened: every kiss, every touch, every moan. 

everything that abby said when she was too pussydrunk and blissed out to overthink it; what you’ve been too scared to say, and what you’re scared she might not have meant.

“did you manage to catch your breath? or should i come back later?” 

you didn’t even notice that abby had returned, but there she is at the edge of the bed, hair slightly damp and lips curled into an infuriating smirk. she’s a menace, but a gentlemanly one, wiping up whatever mess remains between your legs with a damp washcloth and leaving kisses on your skin as she goes. then, you both slip under the sheets, abby resting her head on your chest as you braid and unbraid a small section of her hair.

“did you mean it?” you whisper, tentative.

abby traces idle patterns on your skin. “mean what?”

“that you….love me.”

she freezes, her eyes widening like a deer in headlights. “shit.” 

“look, if it was a mistake, that’s fine,” you lie, swallowing the lump in your throat as you process what appears to be abby’s panicked reaction. “we don’t have to talk about it.”

“shit, no, baby, i do love you,” abby assures. “it’s just, i didn’t mean for it to just slip out like that —”

you lean forward to kiss her. “doesn’t matter. i love you, too, abs.” 

abby flashes a boyish grin, her freckled cheeks flushed. “yeah?”

“yeah.” you press your lips just below her ear before whispering: “i really do.”

[needlehoggin]

I normally post my wips on a different blog but I wanted to share everything ive been working on so far this month!!! :^)

[ministarfruit]

I first discovered your art in seventh grade and I’m going to be a college freshman this coming fall! You’ve been a huge inspiration of mine :] Thank you for making me smile!

thank you so much for sticking around!! did you know this is my 10th year of running this blog... time is an ILLUSION and CANNOT be STOPPED!! all the best with college, anon!!

[mirrored-muse]

ꜱʜᴇ ᴅɪᴇꜱ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴇ. | ꜱ.ꜱ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 804

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴋᴏᴅɪ ꜱʜᴏᴏᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴꜱᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴇʟɪꜱꜱᴀ. ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ɢᴏᴇꜱ ᴄʀᴀᴢʏ.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ꜱʜᴀᴜɴᴀ ꜱʜɪᴘᴍᴀɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴏᴛʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛɪɴɢ. <3

The chaos erupted in an instant.

Kodi’s eyes were wide as he darted from the group, panic evident in his movements. He’d been guiding the frog scientists through the wilderness, but that didn’t matter anymore. The moment he stumbled upon the group everything changed.

His hands were shaking as he grabbed his bow. His fingers fumbled with the arrow, and you barely had a second to react.

“No!—” someone shouted, but it was already too late.

You didn’t even have time to think. The arrow shot through the air with a sickening whizz and hit you square in the shoulder before you could even flinch.

Pain exploded in your arm, sharp and blinding, you staggered back, gasping as your legs buckled under you. You barely had time to register what happened before you hit the ground.

The world was spinning, and the pain from the arrow throbbing in your shoulder made everything else fade into a haze.

Shauna was already there before you could even process it. She was kneeling beside you, her hands instantly gripping your body as if she was afraid you’d slip away. Her usual harsh, unbothered expression was nowhere to be found, her face twisted with something else. Fury? Panic? Both.

You couldn’t tell who all was speaking, but you could definitely recognize the fire in her voice when she spoke.

“What the hell did you do?!” she screamed, voice guttural and filled with rage. Her hands were already on your shoulder, but her eyes were glued to the culprit, Kodi.

“You shot her! You fucking shot her!” Shauna’s voice cracked, and there was nothing cold about it now. It was all raw, all furious.

You could barely breathe, the pain in your shoulder like nothing you’d ever felt before. It was enough to make your head spin.

Shauna’s grip was like iron, holding you as though you were the only thing that mattered at that moment. You didn’t know how much time had passed, but everything around you was suddenly distant, muffled. Shauna was leaning over you, her fingers digging into your skin, her face inches from yours.

“Stay with me,” Shauna muttered, her voice low and trembling. “You’re gonna be fine, don’t close your eyes. You hear me? Stay with me.”

You nodded weakly, the sensation of her breath on your skin grounding you, even as the world threatened to pull you under.

Then she pulled back for a second, her hands working quickly to tear off her jacket. She pressed it tightly against your shoulder, trying to staunch the blood flowing from the wound.

But her eyes? They never left your face.

“Get back,” she snarled at some of the others as they rushed to help. “She’s mine. You don’t touch her.”

Her gaze, hot with fury, fixed on the others, who stepped back in immediate obedience.

“Gen, Help her. I don’t care how just do it,” Shauna commanded, her voice hard and sharp, her words laced with a venomous tone. Then, as if she were dealing with something far beneath her, she added in that same deadly tone, “If she dies, you die.”

You could hear the others scramble, Gen making her way over to you. The sound of hurried footsteps faded into the background as Shauna remained focused entirely on you. Her hands were still gripping your arm, her touch rough but warm, and you could feel the tremor in her body as she held herself back.

For a moment, everything felt still. You could barely feel the pain anymore with her so close, her presence like a shield around you.

But that wasn’t enough for Shauna.

She jerked her head up as she heard movement behind her, eyes flicking to Kodi, still standing there, too stunned to move, but not for long.

Without a word, Shauna stood up, her anger pulsing in her movements. The tightness in her shoulders, the clenched fists. Everything about her was poised to hunt, ready to tear someone apart.

“Don’t let her die,” Shauna growled to the others, and before anyone could respond, she was already running towards Kodi, her eyes never leaving him.

You could hear the fury in her voice as she screamed at him. “You think you get to walk away after that?”

The others scrambled after her, while a few stayed behind to help you, but you were only half aware of them now. Shauna was already on the warpath.

You could hear the snap of a twig as she sprinted after him, the sound of her footsteps becoming a distant memory as she followed him into the woods, her fury building with every step.

And you stayed there, clinging to consciousness, with Shauna’s promise hanging in the air: if anyone ever touched you again, they’d have hell to pay.

She’d make sure of it.

[clownhonkbonk]

guys how do you draw backgrounds

[noorpersona]

Office hook up with kuroo 🤤

Hi Anon!! Thank you so much for sending in this request — it was genuinely so much fun to write! 😭

Enjoy<333

--

Anon Ask: Kuroo (NSFW)

The office was eerily quiet, save for the low, steady hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. Rows of desks stretched out in neat, darkened lines, papers stacked, chairs pushed in, computer monitors black and still. The occasional ticking sound from the wall clock echoed faintly in the wide, open space, amplifying just how empty it really was.

You pushed open the door to Kuroo’s private office, balancing two takeout bags in your hands like a peace offering.

"Dinner's here, workaholic," you called, voice cutting through the stillness.

Inside, Kuroo looked up from behind his desk. He was hunched over some paperwork, hair even messier than usual—wild tufts sticking up from where he'd clearly dragged his fingers through it. His tie hung loose around his neck, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. Dark shadows smudged under his golden eyes, but when he spotted you standing there, his whole face shifted.

The tension in his shoulders eased. The corner of his mouth curved into a slow, lazy smile.

You made your way inside, carefully setting the bags down on the edge of his desk, nudging aside a stack of folders to make room. The rich, savory scent of your order wafted up between you, warm and inviting.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching out long legs under the desk, lacing his fingers behind his head with a low, satisfied groan. His eyes never left you—watching you with a smoldering kind of patience.

"Wow, must be my lucky night," he said, voice a rough, playful rumble.

You rolled your eyes as you started unpacking the food. "Yes, bask in my generosity. You owe me dinner and maybe dessert."

He chuckled under his breath, pushing up from his chair with a heavy, purposeful kind of movement. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, veins prominent along his forearms. He looked both exhausted and predatory—and somehow, devastatingly good.

He walked around the desk slowly, almost leisurely, but there was a weight to it. A coil of energy you could feel tightening between you with each step.

"You bringing me dinner... wearing that?" His gaze skimmed shamelessly over you, lingering at your legs, the snug fit of your jacket. "Dangerous."

You huffed, smoothing down your coat self-consciously. "Calm down, corporate Romeo. It’s just jeans and a jacket."

He smirked, dipping his head slightly as he stepped closer, voice dropping to a rough whisper. "Still dangerous."

You shook your head, scoffing lightly, but your pulse betrayed you, skipping when he closed the last of the distance. His presence was overwhelming—the subtle scent of his cologne, the heat radiating off his skin.

He stopped just short of touching you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. His fingers flexed slightly at his sides, like he was barely holding himself back.

"You know what I've always wanted to do?" he said, voice low and rough.

You raised an eyebrow, shooting him a dry look as you finished unpacking the containers. "Please don't say ‘work overtime,’ because I'm not into that."

Kuroo chuckled, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. He leaned down slightly, close enough that you felt his breath against your ear.

"Always thought about bending you over my desk," he murmured. "Right here. After hours. When no one's around to hear you."

You blinked at him, deadpan. "You're disgusting."

But your body—traitorous as ever—leaned in, just a little. Your pulse kicked up, a warmth blooming low in your stomach.

"You love it," he teased, fingers brushing lightly against your waist, the touch barely there but searing.

You scoffed, stepping back half a pace, bumping lightly into the desk. "And here I thought you were a professional, Kuroo-san."

"I am professional. I'm professionally fantasizing about you," he quipped, tilting his head, that lazy grin deepening.

You fought the smile tugging at your lips, trying to maintain the upper hand, but it was useless. Especially when he stepped closer again, boxing you in, the edge of the desk biting into the backs of your thighs.

"Tetsu, seriously," you said, palms flattening against his chest when he closed the distance, feeling the steady thump of his heart under your touch. "I literally just brought you food."

"Exactly," he said simply, hands skimming up your sides, slow and coaxing. His thumb traced lazy, hypnotic circles against your hipbone. "And now I'm starving for something else."

"You're impossible," you muttered, even as your hands fisted weakly in his shirt.

"And you're stalling," he murmured back, his voice thick, heated.

You opened your mouth—but nothing came out.

Instead, you grabbed a handful of his loosened tie and yanked him down into a kiss, slow and burning, full of everything you hadn't said.

The takeout bags hit the floor with a muffled thud.

Kuroo groaned low in his throat, one hand sliding up your thigh, hitching your leg around his waist as he walked you back, pressing you flush against the edge of the desk.

You parted your lips under his without hesitation now, tugging him impossibly closer, deepening the kiss until your heads spun.

"Fuck, look at you," he rasped, breaking the kiss just long enough to tug your coat down your arms and toss it somewhere unseen. "So fucking pretty for me."

You whined when his hands found the hem of your jeans, pushing it down your hips with slow, deliberate pressure.

He lifted you onto the desk, scattering papers and pens with zero care. Your legs wrapped around him instinctively, your body already humming in anticipation.

The kiss broke again when he mouthed down your throat, rough and reverent all at once. Your head fell back with a soft, shuddering breath, heart hammering so hard it echoed in your ears.

"Still think I'm disgusting?" he teased against your skin, voice dark and amused.

"Absolutely," you managed, breathless. *"Now shut up and fuck me, Kuroo."

His answering growl vibrated against your throat.

And then he was undoing his belt with one hand, the other keeping you pinned exactly where he wanted you—laid out across his desk, messy, panting, and entirely his.

The desk beneath you creaked softly as Kuroo pressed your front down against the cool surface, one hand splayed firmly between your shoulder blades, keeping you there. His body loomed behind you, solid and hot, while he dragged his other hand down the curve of your spine, slow and possessive.

Your jeans were tugged halfway down your thighs, tangled around your knees. His fingers brushed teasingly over the waistband of your underwear, snapping it lightly before hooking them and sliding them down too, baring you completely to him.

You squirmed under his touch, hips canting back instinctively, seeking more.

“You're still overdressed,” he muttered, voice rough as he leaned over you, his breath hot against the shell of your ear.

You barely managed a breathless huff before his fingers slid between your thighs, finding you slick and ready. He groaned low in his chest.

“Fuck, look at you,” he rasped. “Already so fucking wet.”

You whimpered when he teased your entrance with two fingers, circling lazily but never giving you the pressure you craved.

“Tetsu,” you gasped, writhing under him.

He finally pushed in—one thick finger first, curling expertly, then another, scissoring them slowly to open you up. The stretch was delicious, just shy of overwhelming.

Your forehead rested against the cool desk, your fingers curling against the smooth surface.

Kuroo’s free hand stroked down your back, soothing, grounding you as he worked you open, coaxing soft, broken sounds from your lips.

When he withdrew his fingers, you whimpered at the loss—but then you heard the sound of his belt unfastening, the metallic clink sharp in the heavy silence of the office.

You twisted your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye—his flushed face, the way he pumped himself slowly, slicking his cock with your wetness still clinging to his fingers.

He lined himself up behind you, the head of his cock dragging through your folds in a slow, maddening tease.

“Say you want it,” he murmured.

“I want it- I want it please,” you choked out, voice shaky with need.

He didn’t make you wait.

With one steady thrust, he pushed into you, the stretch stealing the air from your lungs. He filled you completely, bottoming out with a low, wrecked groan.

He stilled for a moment, both hands braced on your hips, thumbs pressing into your skin.

“You feel…” he muttered, voice ragged. “You feel so fucking good.”

You nodded weakly, pushing back against him, desperate for him to move.

He took the hint.

He pulled back slowly, almost all the way out, before thrusting back in with enough force to jolt your body forward on the desk. Papers fluttered to the floor, but neither of you cared.

Kuroo found a brutal rhythm, each snap of his hips making the desk creak under the force of it. His tie swung loose from his collar, occasionally brushing against your lower back with each rough thrust.

The sounds—skin slapping, your broken gasps, his low, breathless curses—echoed obscenely in the otherwise empty office.

“Mine,” he growled, fucking into you harder now, faster, one hand sliding up your back to fist gently in your hair, tugging your head back so he could kiss the nape of your neck, teeth grazing your skin.

“Yours,” you gasped, knuckles white where you gripped the desk.

The coil in your stomach tightened impossibly fast, your orgasm building with every relentless drive of his hips.

“Come for me,” he panted against your ear. “Let me feel you.”

A few more thrusts and you shattered—clenching around him, crying out his name in a broken, wrecked moan. Your body trembled under him, your release washing over you in thick, hot waves.

He fucked you through it, groaning low in his throat at the way you squeezed him so tight it bordered on painful.

With a final, stuttering thrust, he came hard, spilling inside you with a rough curse, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he rode out the aftershocks.

For a long moment, the only sounds were your mingled breathing, the soft rustle of clothes, and the distant rain tapping against the windows.

Kuroo pressed a lazy kiss between your shoulder blades, hands smoothing down your sides in a rare, tender gesture.

“Best… dinner pickup… ever,” he panted against your skin.

You let out a breathless laugh, still half folded over the desk, utterly wrecked.

“You’re… buying dessert,” you managed, voice hoarse.

He chuckled, pulling your jeans up slowly, helping you dress with lingering touches.

“Anything you want, babe,” he said, kissing the back of your neck again, utterly unbothered by the mess around you—completely consumed by you, and only you.

[rorynni]

If your taking requests maybe Rui?

he