#WHY DOESN’T HE HAVE LIPS???? WHO TOOK THEM

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi 🙂 could you write a fic about Agatha and Rio both taking an interest in reader and competing for their attention. Who they end up with up to you. Xxx

I got issues w/ wanda stans which ultimately make me hate the character (I don’t want to but you freaks force my hand) by osmosis and I’ll just block you out cuz it’s honestly pathetic to listen to you speak.

You were cute, they both had to admit it, adorable even if they were kind enough to admit aloud. So congrats on being the object of desire of two very powerful and beautiful women. I’m jealous.

Neither Rio nor Agatha were exactly delighted to know that the other was also thriving for your affection and attention. Not. One.bit. They didn’t want to take civil either when it came to you and would boast rather loudly and confidently about how your heart was already taken as their possession.

‘You don’t have a heart to give, so why would you ever delude yourself to the idea that y/n would ever give you theirs on their own terms?’ Agatha said as Rio smirked and shrugged.

‘I do have a heart, it’s black and it beats for them as theirs does for mine, I just have to make them see that even if it means removing you from the picture.’ Rio replied but it only proved to make Agatha cackle as though she was told something funny rather than threatened. She’s had that be the case for a long, long time on multiple different accounts.

‘That’s cute but they were mine from the moment I stepped into Westview during Wanda’s…attempt to play house and acting as their wife,’ Agatha sighs. ‘Let’s just say I was given tastes of them which were sweeter than nectar.’ She smirks when she seeks the smirk on Rio’s lip was wiped off, replaced by a scowl as a perfect visual of jealously and anger overcame the face green witch.

‘Well we’re not in THAT Westview anymore my dearest Agatha,’ Rio began, ‘those memories you may try to hold over my head are long forgotten by them, besides it’s time they moved on with someone with more…potential.’ It was Agatha’s time to look annoyed and angry at Rio as she waves her hand. ‘Bye bye Aggie, we’ll be sure to send the marriage invite.’ She adds sarcastically before leaving.

Agatha, alone in the house she was trapped in for the past three or more years, took a deep breath to compose herself. If Rio wanted you, she’s going have to go through her first, after all you were hers first even if it was under the hex. You were always going to be hers before you were anyone else’s.

Agatha would try to woo you by doing things you supposedly liked during the hex, but once she realises that wasn’t the case anymore and the you in the hex was a charachuer of who you were. She knew that she had some actual work to do in order to win your heart before the black hearted Rio did.

She’d even console in Senior Scratch from time to time, tucking the rabbit in her arms and under her chin as she schemes about how she’s going to swoon you over to her.

‘Flowers did the charm once but it doesn’t exactly scream ‘ don’t make me the other woman in this relationship’ or ‘you chose me once, do that again because it’s the only correct answer.’ Agatha raised the rabbit to her eyes. ‘what do you think? Yay or nah.’

Senior scratch twitched his nose and flicked his ear.

‘You’re right, after Wanda traumatised this town, I doubt it’ll be easy getting to y/n anymore as it is getting a needle out of a haystack, but I’m not going to give them over to her.’ Agatha spat as he mind went to Rio earlier this morning, whispering rather flirty and somewhat vulgar things when told to someone with a particularly filthy mind, into your ear and smiling when you looked at her with wide eyes and a flustered face.

‘You know where to find me sweetheart, so don’t be shy.’ Rio then said as she locked eyes with Agatha as she kissed your cheek, leaving a perfect dark imprint of her lips there for anyone to see.

Rio on the other hand wasn’t afraid to saunter up to you and openly flirt with you while keeping her composure. It came to her as easily as breathing, and besides your reactions always made her smile in accomplishment, so she keeps doing it while handing you a special black rose that she conjured up just for you.

‘What’s this?’you asked.

‘A rose of course.’ Rio replied.

‘I know that but,’ you look from the flower to Rio, ‘what’s the occasion?’

Rio smiled as she walked up close to you, placing her hand over your own as she made you both squeeze the stem of the thornless rose. ‘No occasion, can I not be allowed to gift you something that will never wilt, never die, never look less perfect than the day I plucked it for you.’ Rio answered as she looked deeply into your eyes.

You smiled. ‘Thanks Rio, I promise to treasure it along with the lavenders that Agatha got me.’

Rio’s jaw twitched at the mention of the other witches name but didn’t let her annoyance be shown to you as she smiled tightly. ‘You take gifts from other women now? I’m hurt.’ You chuckled as you rested your hand on her shoulder, cussing a flicker of warmth to flow through her briefly.

‘I didn’t take Rio Vidal to be the jealous type.’ You joked, ‘besides it’s not like I can reject Agatha’s gifts, she can be very convincing.’ You add as Rio internally seethed.

‘Yes, very convincing.’ She chocked out through gritted teeth. Agatha was more of a pain in her ass than she originally thought.

‘Anyways I’ve got to go, Agatha invited me to her house for tea and snacks this afternoon but I’ll see you tomorrow for that abandoned botanical garden you told me about, see you later Rio.’ You bided the green with goodbye as you clutched the black rose to your chest as it emanated a brief green glow.

‘You think you’re winning this fight Agatha, but the wars only just begun.’ Rio spat as she watched Agatha welcome you with open arms, holding you close as she looks at Rio with a look of accomplishment.

‘Come on in dear, I have your favourites ready on the table. Senior Scratch has been missing you as of late.’ Agatha cooed as she booped you on the nose, her hand now sliding to your waist as she guides you into her home that felt familiar and smelled like lavender to ease you into a sense of comfort and warmth.

Who you end up with is up to you. (I’d want both but I’m a sucker for Kathryn Hahn and Aubrey Plaza)

[momotonescreaming]

All the things I would do

Rating: M | WC: 5.5k | Evan Buckley/Tommy Kinard Relationship Study, Kissing, Mild Smut [Read on AO3]

Buck loved having sex in the loft. He loved having sex with Tommy in the loft.

The way he could drag Tommy upstairs by his hand, fingers entwined, no walls or doors in the way to slow them down. The way he could fall backwards onto his mattress, sending Tommy tumbling on top of him with a playful tug of his hand, falling into place easily. Large thighs bracketing his hips, keeping him pinned, held in place — not that Buck wants to leave when Tommy has him like that.

Hand curling around Tommy’s waist, around his neck, pulling him even closer as Buck smiles into a kiss. His boyfriend (boyfriend!) falling into it naturally, almost entirely in sync. Letting himself be pulled, pinning Buck where he wants him. Bracing himself on the mattress to kiss and kiss and kiss Buck.

Buck’s had sex in the loft before, it’s a fact, logically he knows that it’s technically no different than when he was with Ali or Taylor or Natalia. That Buck and Taylor would hurry upstairs with the same desire and rush to have sex that he and Tommy do.

But it feels different. More. Better. Unlike anything else he’s experienced before.

Like he’s a giddy teenager experiencing dating for the first time combined with the freedom and experience of an adult. Maybe it’s just better with Tommy.

Tommy, who was better than Buck could have possibly dreamed.

Who took his whole world and flipped it upside down. Opened his eyes. He was free and he was Tommy’s. He had a boyfriend who was cool with this being his first relationship with a man (once he had gotten over the initial hurdle and panic, which, fair, Buck felt terrible about it too) because they both knew he was in this with Tommy. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure of what he was ready for — he told Tommy as much — but he meant it when he said he was ready for something with Tommy. He liked Tommy, he wanted to be around him, he wanted to explore what dating this incredible man meant.

This incredible man who was cool with whatever pace Buck wanted or needed to set — whether he wanted to slow down or speed up. Buck wanted to explore it all with Tommy.

Who’s always checking in, making sure Buck’s alright, and it never feels condescending. Partly because Buck actually really appreciates a partner doing that for him, showing that they care and don’t want to pressure him into something he’s maybe not ready for just yet. But also partly because he now knows that Tommy needs it as well. To be the partner he never had when he first came out. Not to say that he doesn’t listen to Buck when he says yes, he’s sure. He wants this. He’s ready. Because Tommy listens when he talks, really listens, and takes him at his word when he says he wants more, they can progress.

So they were taking it at Buck’s pace, and Buck couldn’t be happier. So was Tommy, if what he was telling Buck was any indication. The way he looked at him. And why wouldn’t it be. Tommy kept looking at him with happy, crinkly smiles that took over his whole face. With soft, tender gazes that made Buck feel like he was about to melt on the spot.

When Buck said that all he wanted to do was make out like teenagers, groping on his couch with no intention of going any further — Tommy said of course. And he was a very willing participant. Letting Buck explore his lips, his tongue, the way that he kissed him. Kissing him back. Feeling Tommy’s 5 o’clock shadow against his chin, stubble scratching against stubble. Resisting the urge to lick a hot, wet line in the cleft of Tommy’s chin. Muscled shoulders underneath his grasping hands. Sighing and moaning into Tommy’s mouth at every little reminder about just how masculine Tommy is. And just how into it Buck is. A part of Buck wonders why it took him so long to realise that this was something he was into.

Sharp cheekbones and a jaw so chiselled it was like he was made from marble. Short hair and muscles bigger than his. Buck finds himself moaning the first time he gets pinned underneath his boyfriend and realises that if anything, he’s the smaller one in the relationship. They’re the same height, both muscled, but Tommy’s just slightly broader, with a thick chest and biceps as big as his head. He kind of wants to bite him about it.

It feels easy with Tommy, natural, but not like he’s just falling into it with him like when Buck was in his other relationships. Less like he’s being whisked away in someone else’s current and more like he’s going with the flow. Together. He was choosing Tommy and Tommy was choosing him back. It was an easy decision to make. Like he was talking about with Eddie — they just clicked.

He wants to explore everything with him.

Tommy sent him his first ever dick pic, and it was kind of insane how good it was. Blew his fucking mind. He felt like a teenager again with how horny it made him. He remembers it vividly, Buck lounging on his brand new couch, flipping through channels for something to watch, texting Tommy. His boyfriend recently back from shift in his own house and starting to unwind. Took a shower to clean off the day, got changed, and so Buck flirted a little. Maybe asked for a picture. He felt all giddy and little ridiculous as he did it, excitement bubbling up in his chest as Tommy actually sent a photo back.

Reclined into his mattress, one arm resting above his head, gently flexing. Hair all tousled and curling at the nape of his neck where it was still damp from his shower. He was shirtless, because of course he was, camera angled to show off the full expanse of his torso. Showing off his abs, his scar, his pecs, that Buck definitely wanted to bite. Tommy knows what he’s doing, all casual and cool and Buck really can’t get enough of it. He also kind of wanted to make it the lockscreen on his phone, if he wasn’t sure Eddie and Hen and the rest of the 118 would tease him for it as soon as they caught sight of it.

So, biting lip, Buck sent a photo back. Tried to pose in such a way that was flirty, fun and sexy without him looking like a total fuckboy. Although, Buck thought — Tommy would probably like it if he flexed his bicep or lifted his shirt to show off his abs. Posed like a frat boy, just a little. Because he knows that Tommy’s into him. Doesn’t have to worry about sending a photo that’s too much too fast.

It was exciting, exchanging those photos that got sexier and sexier with each click. Buck unbuttoning his shirt, his jeans. While Tommy tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants. Shucking his pants down his thighs as Tommy sent a photo of him palming himself through the thin fabric of his grey sweats, dick tenting the fabric. And fuck, what Buck wouldn’t give to see that in person. He’d seen people online talk about hot guys in grey sweats before, not thinking much about it, but he gets it now. Slowly starting to forget about angles and flexing his muscles, trying to take the best possible photo for Tommy and focusing on just how fucking hot he felt. Pulse racing, breath coming heavier, excitement running through him. How he wanted to show Tommy just how much he was effecting him.

He was sexting a guy. His boyfriend, even. It was fucking exciting. Invigorating.

And then Buck got his first ever dick pic, and he shamelessly jacked off to thoughts of Tommy in the middle of his living room couch. Didn’t even make it upstairs. Didn’t even think about the possibility of anyone barging into his apartment. Was so caught up in the sight of Tommy — all of him, and damn there was a lot— in the thought of what his dick might feel like in his hands, heavy and warm and velvety skin. What sounds Tommy would be making — moaning like he did in the hospital lobby, gasping and grunting as he got off to thoughts of Buck.

Shirt falling off his shoulders, unbuttoned and baring his naked chest. Pinned on only from the couch underneath him, fabric wrinkling. He didn’t care. Jeans stretched around his thighs, straining as he adjusted himself. Underwear pulled down just enough to expose himself, tucked under his cock, fabric damp with precome. He sent Tommy a photo of that too.

Things progressed easily from there. Buck was all in, no hesitation.

It was like that photo finally broke through the final wall of nerves sitting in Buck’s head — the one of Tommy fisting his hard cock, pretty and pink and leaking, just for Buck. Head thrown back on his bed, exposing the long lines of his neck. That while he was in this, and knew Tommy was hot, had been shamelessly jerking off to thoughts of Tommy — the reality of seeing a cock like that had him a little nervous. It was first. Having a photo made it easier, Buck thought afterwards, breaking through the anxiety of a first time and the what ifs swimming around in Buck’s head.

Tommy was hot. Buck was horny. And he had nothing to be worried about. The heat and the lust and the want rushed through Buck and swept all the anxiety away like a wave.

He wanted phone sex and to come in his pants dry humping with Tommy on the couch. Wanted to drag Tommy into the shower together and get his hands on him. Maybe drop to his knees and ask Tommy to teach him how to suck cock.

And Tommy was there every step of the way.

Dirty talking on the other side of the phone, voice deep and smooth and sending a shiver down Buck’s spine. Relationship still so new but Tommy still somehow knowing exactly what to say to make him groan. To feel the heat pooling inside him as Tommy tells him exactly how he’s going to take him apart. To tell Tommy how good he is at this, how perfect. Tell him about all the things he does to Buck — his racing heart, his stuttering words, wanton moaning into the phone.

Ready and willing to rut against Buck like a teenager, sloppily making out in the living room of Tommy’s house. Never once complaining about the denim of his jeans straining against him as they fuck fully clothed. Pinning Buck to his couch, sinking into the cushions, grinding their clothed cocks together. One hand in Tommy’s hair, mussing up his curls; the other raking down his back. Grasping at fabric, feeling the heat of him, the shifting lines of his muscles. Creeping lower to grab at his ass and swallowing Tommy’s moan as he does so. Writhing and rutting against each other until they came in their pants, and Buck was kind of obsessed of the feeling of Tommy pulsing against him, hot and sticky. It was so hot, they’ll definitely be doing that again if Buck has anything to say about it.

Not to say that’s all their relationship is — sex.

Buck finally got to go on that go karting date — at that track out in the desert he’d been talking about — where he had a lot of fun discovering that Tommy was very good at it, actually. Made sense, since he was very much a car guy. It was kind of a perfect date. Out in the sun, clear skies, doing something exciting with Tommy. Racing around the track, calling out and teasing everytime they passed each other. They made a day of it, going for a drive, Buck holding Tommy’s hand over the Jeep’s gear stick. His boyfriend’s large, calloused hand entwined with his, warm and comforting. He felt lighter on the way home, that now achingly familiar giddy-happiness sitting in his chest like honey. Buck drove home with a grin on his face, hand resting on Tommy’s thigh.

There were other dates of course, where they tried a mini golfing place down by the beach and quickly discovered that they were both sort of terrible at it. Spending hours walking through the park together, just talking and enjoying the fact that he was allowed to hold Tommy’s hand. They re-did their dinner date and actually made it to the movie, sneaking glances at each other in the dark of the theatre.

Tommy was taking him on hikes — at some local trails he frequented, where they were surrounded by nothing but nature and the cloudless sky. In a muscle tee with the sleeves cut off, and his familiar blue gym shorts, Tommy led them up the trail with a grin on his face and a backpack strapped to his back. Water bottle, bug spray, sunscreen, emergency first aid kit. It was nice to date someone who got it, another first responder, someone who was just as prepared as he was. The sun beat down on them as they hiked the trail, sun warming his skin until he felt like liquid gold. Talking about everything and nothing, about calls and documentaries Buck had watched. About what work Tommy was doing on his car and a little more about Harbour Station.

His muscles were warm and he was sweaty by the time they finished the trail, Tommy much the same as he drove them both back to Buck’s loft. Safe to say he was distracted on the ride home. He was sun warmed and sated, watching a bead of sweat drip Tommy’s neck as he sighed into the cool air of the Jeep’s AC. Licking his lips, trying very hard not to think about leaning over the centre console and licking it up. Feeling the saltiness on his tongue, the warmth of Tommy’s skin radiating out, the way his breath would hitch.

But Buck really doesn’t want to risk a car accident and have to call 911 — they’ll never hear the end of it. So he lets Tommy drive, watching him navigate the roads of LA with ease. One hand on the wheel, and the other burning hot as it rests on Buck’s thigh. And then, he invites Tommy back up to his loft with a flirty gaze and a coy tilt to his head. He really doesn’t want this date to end. Buck thinks he could spend hours with Tommy and never grow sick of it, never feel the itch that he needs space.

Tommy agrees.

So Buck spent the elevator ride up to his loft bouncing on the balls of his feet, biting his lip and trying to keep his hands to himself. He won’t be able to restrain himself otherwise, and he really doesn’t want to piss off his neighbours. Tommy gives him a knowing glance out of the corner of his eye, gaze raking over Buck’s body. That familiar smirk on his face. He doesn’t feel objectified, like Tommy’s just in it for his body, he feels wanted. Desired.

It feels like the beginning of something.

Sex might not be the only thing their relationship is — but it is an important part. Hell, Buck was a self proclaimed sex addict for a time. It took a lot of reflection, and a lot of talking through it in therapy, but Buck was now comfortable with the fact that him desiring sex, desiring that intimacy — isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Having a high sex drive isn’t a bad thing. There’s nothing wrong with needing that connection to another person. Unabashed and unashamed. And he wanted that with Tommy.

Buck wanted that connection, that closeness. He wanted to explore sex, explore his bisexuality — with Tommy. Whether it was hard and fast, hot and steamy, or slow and exploring. He wanted it all.

So as soon as they shut the front door to Buck’s loft behind them — they were on each other. Reaching for each other in tandem. Hands grasping at waists and sweaty shirts, Tommy throwing his backpack onto the floor and kissing Buck as soon as he’s free of it. Buck pulling Tommy towards him by his waist, wrinkling the fabric of his sweaty shirt — sending them slamming into the door behind him with the force of it.

He smiles into Tommy’s mouth as his boyfriend brings an arm up to brace himself on the door — using the leverage to slow their descent into the door, just slightly. His heart jumps as he realises what Tommy did — trying to stop Buck from slamming his head into the door — taking care of him, even now. Even still.

Buck slides his hands up Tommy’s shirt, feeling the heat of his skin pressing into the palms of his hands. Burning hot, it’s not enough. Skating along the hardened muscle, the sweat pooling on his lower back. He wraps an arm around him, pulling him closer, closer.

Closing his eyes as Tommy kisses him back. Leaving his arm braced on the door above them, bracketing Buck in, the other burning a hole in his side. All he can smell is sweat and salt and Tommy. There’s nowhere he’d rather be. Kissing him, and kissing him, and kissing him. Prying Tommy’s mouth open with his tongue, wet and hot. Dripping spit down his chin as he sucks on his tongue.

Tommy groans into his mouth, a low rumble, and he can feel every shake of it where their chests press together. Sticking together with sweat. If Buck was less horny, he’d maybe think about how gross they both were, sticky from hours in the sun. But he is, and Tommy is so fucking hot like this. Sweaty and gross and masculine. He grips the fabric of his shirt, and uses the leverage to pull Tommy’s hips into his. Thin fabric of their gym shorts leaving nothing to the imagination. Feeling every inch of him, the thick hard line of his cock.

Then it’s Buck’s turn to moan unabashedly as Tommy starts to gently rut against him. Mouth dropping to his neck as Buck tilts his gaze towards the roof of the loft. Eyes fluttering open, gasping for air, letting his gasps and moans filter out into the open air.

A giggle escapes him. They’re still pressed to his front door.

Tommy slows, pressing wet kisses down his neck. Along the curve and lines of his jaw. Taking his time with each one, deep but not enough to leave marks. Buck finds himself pushing up Tommy’s shirt, exposing his bare chest as he ruts against him.

“Tommy,” he moans, the word shuddering as he exhales, and there must be something in his voice because Tommy pauses. Pulls away from Buck’s neck, leaving behind a hot wet mark that cools in the open air. Buck would pout at the loss of contact if they weren’t pressed together as close as they are.

Tilting his head, raising an eyebrow in that way he does, Tommy looks at him. Mouth twitching up at the corners. He can see how spit-slick and pink they are. He really wants to kiss him again. “Evan.”

“Why’d you stop?” Buck says, smiling. Panting through the words, heat of his skin cooling in the summer air. Running his hands up Tommy’s sides, along the lines and curves of his muscles. Dipping lower, enjoying every inch of their clothed cocks pressing together. Tilting his head to catch Tommy’s gaze, eyes shining. He still feels all giddy and bubbly inside. The heat and desire boiling up with this undercurrent of sheer joy. “I thought we had something good going.”

“We do.” Tommy says simply, smoothly, smiling softly back at Buck as if he has no idea what he’s doing to him. Bringing his hand down from the door above them, dropping to cradle Buck’s face. Hold his haw in his hand, thumb running in gentle circles. Calloused thumb scratching against his stubble. It’s a good sound. “But I was just wondering if we’d be more comfortable in that big fancy shower of yours. There’s room for two, isn’t there?”

“There is now,” Buck says giddily, the smooth tone of Tommy’s voice washing over him, rolling through him. Sending a shiver down his spine, straight to his thickening cock. He’s sure Tommy can feel it. Good. He loves it when Tommy puts the moves on him, and loves being able to show him exactly how much.

He grabs Tommy’s hand, laughing giddily as he pulls them both into the bathroom. Tommy’s chucking behind him, fingers entwined with his. Kicking the door behind them, slamming shut, but neither flinch at the sound.

Tugging gently on their entwined hands, Tommy pulls Buck back into his orbit, reaching out with his other hand to rest on his hip. Steadying them. Bodies pressed together, still warm and sweaty, but the red-hot urgency is cooling.

Buck can go at Tommy’s pace, too. It’s nice, when Tommy lets himself set the lead like this, when he knows it’s something Buck’s into and comfortable with. He bites his bottom lip, plush and pink, drawing Tommy’s eyes down as he gently brings their hips together again. Not moving, not writhing and grinding like he wants to, just pressing the lengths of them together. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.” Tommy says back, voice just on the edge of teasing. Buck kind of really wants to keep kissing him. So he does. Eyes fluttering shut as he brings their lips together again, hand resting on the back of Tommy’s head, tangling through his sweat-damp curls. He moans into Tommy’s mouth, deepening the kiss, when Tommy pulls back.

Buck chases his lips with his, almost subconsciously, already so caught up in the feeling of Tommy’s kisses. He’s sort of addicted already, ever since that fateful day in the middle of the loft. What can he say, Tommy’s a good kisser. Good enough to flip his whole world on his head. Open his eyes. Tommy chuckles gently at Buck chasing his lips, gently rubbing his thumb in circles at Buck’s waist.

“Wanna get the shower going for us, baby?” Tommy says, voice deepening as his eyes lock with Buck’s. Squeezing their entwined hands as he takes a step back, increasing the space in between them. Hands anchoring them together, even still, and Buck appreciates it. His heart jumps in his chest as he squeezes back.

“Oh yeah?” Buck flirts, eyes shining as he looks over at Tommy, shining under the overhead lights of the bathroom. “And what are you gonna do?”

“Well I don’t know about you,” Tommy teases, releasing Buck’s hand and smiling. A coy little tilt to his mouth, shining eyes. “But I figured I’d start here.”

And then he’s locking eyes with Buck, gaze darkening, as he reaches an arm behind his head to grip at his shirt and pull it over his head. Buck watches the shifting his muscles as he rolls out his shoulders, the grin on Tommy’s face as he shakes out his hair. As he puts on a little show knowing that Buck is watching.

Trailing down the length of his body, his pecs — shining with sweat, his abs, the trail of hair that dips below his shorts. Buck licks his lips, smirking back at his boyfriend.

“You sure I can’t just stay right here?” Buck teases with a tilt of his head. Angles his body, flexes his restless hands. “Keep watch. Make sure you don’t hurt yourself. I-I’m a firefighter, you know?”

Tommy huffs out a laugh, face crinkling up in that now achingly familiar way as he throws his damp shirt to the ground. Neither of them watch to see where it lands. “I’ll be fine. You can look all you want later.”

“You promise?” Buck flirts, deepening his voice and eyes darkening as he roams his gaze over Tommy’s naked torso.

"I promise," he says, smirking back over at his boyfriend. Teasing. Flirting. Just the way Buck likes.

"I'm gonna hold you to to that," Buck teases back, delaying the inevitable moment where he rips his gaze away from Tommy. From his now exposed chest, the sweaty tanned planes of his skin. Exposed and tempting. He bites his lip, eyes wandering over Tommy one last time. Drinks in the sight of him, the feel of his gaze locked with his.

He eventually gives in and turns to the shower. Opens the door and turns the water on, fidgeting with the controls. Trying to find the sweet pot between too hot and too cold.

Tommy, Buck was learning, was almost always cold. Always wearing an undershirt, or had a jacket thrown over his outfit. Always had a throw blanket draped over the back of his couch, or pulled over his legs. Thrived in the hot summer sun, and loved his showers scorching hot.

Buck was fine with the cold. If anything, the LA sun was an adjustment for him. Was walking around in shirts when everyone else was donning long sleeves. Layers. Found there was nothing wrong with a cool refreshing shower.

Hence, the need to find the sweet spot between not too hot, and not too cold. Logically Buck knew as soon as they were both in the shower together their attention would be drawn away from as something as simple as temperature. Towards sweat and skin and the heat of their bodies pressed together. But he couldn't help but try. Try and make it good for Tommy, for himself, for the both of them together. Find the sweet spot that worked for the both of them.

He wanted to make it work.

Logically he knows that it’s just a shower, that they’ll be distracted soon anyway, but he can’t help but want to make it good for Tommy. Make the water a little hotter than normal, just for him. Show Tommy that he wants to take care of him too, that he’s learning things about Tommy and he wants to keep learning.

There’s a rustle of clothes behind him, a squeak of shoes against tiled floors, barely audible over the sound of the now running shower. Buck bites his lip, barely holding back a grin, as he dutifully continues adjusting the water. Arm reaching in, feeling the water run over his hand. Wet and heating up quickly.

He’s barely focusing on the water. Letting the rush of water splashing against tile wash over him like white noise, absently adjusting the temperature and pressure of the water as he focuses on the sounds behind him. Of Tommy toeing off his shoes and peeling off his socks, placing them in a pile by the door. In that way Buck is noticing he almost always does. His stomach swoops at the thought — that Tommy’s been around enough for Buck to start to notice more of his habits.

Then Buck swears he hears the sound of Tommy’s gym shorts hitting the floor, and he can’t hold back the sharp inhale of air. Warm and cloying with steam, holding in his lungs.

Buck makes himself keep looking at the shower.

Hair at the back of his neck standing on end, goosebumps rolling down his arm as he feels Tommy’s presence behind him. Sweaty, naked, so fucking hot — and Buck’s not looking at him. The unspoken rule that they’ve created, when Tommy took the lead and told him to turn around. Start the shower.

Heat pooling low in his gut, that familiar itch burning underneath his skin, Buck’s in the middle of giving in and turning around anyway when he feels it. His hands on his waist, thick and calloused and burning into his side through the thin fabric of his shirt. Breath hitching as he feels the sheer presence of Tommy behind him.

Tilting his head to try and get a look at his boyfriend behind him, holding in place as Tommy slowly presses closer to him. He catches a glimpse of him smirking, face crinkling up in that way it does, before Tommy squeezes his waist and closes the distance between them.

Buck gasps as he feels Tommy press up behind him, all hard muscles and sweaty skin. Calloused hands holding him tight as Tommy’s cock presses up against his ass. One hand still braced in the shower, feeling the rush of water; the other reaching backwards to try and get a hold of any part of Tommy. To press him even closer, to feel his skin burning into his.

Now that he has this, now that he knows this about himself, Buck really doesn’t know how he didn’t realise this earlier. His attraction to men, and masculinity, and the way it made him feel. Broad shoulders and hands larger than his. Hard muscles and hairy bodies.

But a part of him actually really likes that Tommy was the one who helped him realise. That he’s not just attracted to men, he’s attracted to Tommy. He likes Tommy’s broad shoulders and mechanics hands. His muscles and the snail trail that leads down his abdomen. He likes his short hair and 5 o’clock shadow. He likes the way Tommy makes him feel. He likes the way Tommy shows up for him. To dinner, and to the café, and to hopefully many more.

He really likes the way Tommy is now kissing down his throat, leaving wet marks in his wake. Hands still on his waist, body pressed against him, enveloping his. Buck groans, tilts his head to give Tommy more room, and starts to rut backwards.

“I can’t help but feel,” Buck gasps, as Tommy nips at his skin and quickly soothes the mark with his tongue. “That I’m overdressed.”

“Oh you are, are you?” Tommy murmurs into his skin, and he can feel the sounds vibrating through them, rumbling his chest. “I can fix that.”

And the his hands are dipping lower, skating along his sides before pushing up the hem of his shirt. Achingly slow at first, skin on skin contact sending a shiver down Buck’s spine. Calloused hands sending out sparks. That itch under his skin building again, rising and burning with each inch of skin Tommy touches.

His boyfriend laughs behind him, calls him impatient, before kissing his neck again. And then they’re stripping him down, faster now, hands on waists and chests and grasping at fabric. Tommy pulling off his shirt and Buck kicks off his shoes, not caring where they land. He thinks he absently hears them thump on the wall before Tommy gets his hands on his shorts and all of a sudden Buck is very distracted.

He absently thinks how hot it would be if Tommy just ripped his shorts right off his body, as he grips onto the shower while Tommy slides his shorts and his underwear down his legs in one fell swoop. Hands gripping the waistbands, fingers curled under the elastic, pressed into his bare skin.

As soon as he’s free he grabs Tommy’s wrist and pulls, sending the two of them tumbling into the shower. Water burning hot, soothing worn out muscles and sweaty skin. Tommy dutifully following behind, closing the door behind him.

They instantly forget about the water. Focusing on sweat and skin and soap and their two bodies pressing together. Water soaked kisses where their spit mixes with the spray of the shower. Slick bodies moving in tandem, and yet rooted to the spot.

Tommy’s planting his feet and bracing an arm on the wall behind Buck. He’s making sure they don’t slip, that Buck’s safe in his arms. And if anything, that’s what drives Buck to determination. To grasp their cocks in one hand, to want to make Tommy gasp and moan and grunt as he comes apart.

He loves the noises Tommy makes. Cataloguing them in his head, making note of what he can do to pull a noise out of Tommy. Figuring out what he likes and what he loves. The exploration, the figuring things out has always been a favourite part of sex for Buck. He’s a good fuck, he knows this, but it’s the exploring what his partners like and wants is what really drives him. It’s not enough to be a good fuck in general, he wants to be a good fuck to them.

To Tommy.

He wants to be good for Tommy. To hear him groan and moan Buck’s name. To hear him say perfect, and right there, just like that, and you’re so good to me Evan.

There’s going to be a lot of soft, tender sex in their future, Buck knows this for certain. Doesn’t even have to ask. Tommy will pick him up and carry him upstairs like he weighs nothing, gently lowering him down onto his bed, gaze soft and loving. They’re going to fuck face to face, so Buck can hold Tommy’s hand and they can kiss each other senseless. Slow and sensual, the two of them sinking into the moment as they sink into each other. Kissing all the words that are too soon to say into each other’s mouths.

Buck can’t fucking wait.

[haodore]

guidance · sung hanbin

summary. being an idol with hanbin as your older brother.

sung hanbin x sister!reader · platonic, fluff, drabble · 0.8k words · masterlist

! : fem!reader, idol!hanbin, idol!reader, tiny bit of angst, r being hated on, everything else is just fluff and comfort.

You were Hanbin’s biggest fan—before the world ever got to know who he was. You cheered him up when he was at his lowest, and you cheered him on when he was announced as second place for the new k-pop group ZeroBaseOne. You couldn’t be prouder.

It was really encouraging to see what could be achieved. You saw him living out his dreams as you continued to practice hard. His words of comfort were always sent to you through a message, over the phone, or in person as he hugged you and pat the back of your head.

Part of you was beginning to lose hope that you would ever debut, but you pushed forward.

Thank goodness you did, because you soon found out you were going to be finally making your debut. You were in a group with four other girls, and they were some of your closest friends. You had been training with two of them for some time, and had gotten to know the other two a few months ago. They were like your family.

When Hanbin found out, he was overjoyed. He found the nearest time in both his and your schedule to visit you, bringing you flowers and some of your favourite snacks as a gift. You almost burst to tears from both the gesture and from the exhaustion you went through to make it to this point.

He saw the way your lower lip trembled almost immediately and he pulled you into his embrace, a warm laugh leaving his mouth. “Don’t cry~“ He had said, a hand on the back of your head. “You finally did it.” He said pridefully.

By the time your debut came around, you were more stressed than ever. Endless promotions, sleepless nights… it was a lot. The one thing that kept you going? The nightly messages from your big brother. ‘First performance today! You did amazing 🫶’, ‘Make sure to rest well :)’, ‘Try not to overwork yourself. Take breaks when possible ❤️’.

It was amazing what a quick text message could do for your motivation. It helped so much.

When things eventually took a turn, and you made a small mistake in one of your performances, the amount of hate you got was unbelievable. Who would’ve thought people would have so much to say about you tripping over your feet? It was only the slightest stumble. ‘All that training… just to mess up in the first month of being an idol?’, ‘This girl wasn’t ready. Maybe i’m an ot4 stan now…’, ‘Why did the company even put her in this group? She’s not even adding anything to it.’

K-Pop fans don’t seem to think their idols see everything they post, but they see a lot more than anyone would even think. And when suddenly you’re a trending topic amongst multiple K-Pop fandoms?… you definitely heard the things that were being said about you.

You knew you shouldn’t let it get to you, but it did. You cried into your pillow more times than you cared to admit, and it wasn’t until you heard your phone ringing that you realized you had someone who would be there to listen. Someone who knew you better than anyone.

“Y/nie~” His comforting voice flowed through the speaker. You tried to keep the tears back, but at his tone, they started rolling down your face again. He heard your hiccups and sniffles from his end and his lips went into a pout. “Don’t cry… I know it’s hard. I’ve been where you are before. People will freak out over the smallest things. It’s a bit pathetic.” He laughed, maybe attempting to maybe you laugh. Maybe for a moment you did laugh, the half-joyful noise breaking through your quiet sobs. You heard his hum in content at the sound.

He continued. “You made a small mistake, and that’s completely fine. you’re going to make mistakes, but since you’re so new to the industry, people are going to watch you a little closer, and they’re going to be a little meaner, but that doesn’t mean what they’re saying is true. You’re one of the most talented people i know—and I’ve known that for a long time.” He sighed, pausing for a moment. “If you ever need anything, I’m always here. You can call me any time and I’ll always get back to you.”

Your breath started to slow, and your crying started to lessen. He was right. “How about tomorrow we go hang out. You’re not doing anything right? You have a free day? Well, I’m free until noon, so we can hang out. How’s that sound?” At the end of his sentence his voice lifted up into that higher pitched tone he used with his maknae of his group often. You weren’t a stranger to the tone, and it made you laugh. “Okay, sounds good.”

You could tell that he was smiling through his light voice coming through the phone. “I’ll see you tomorrow, than. Goodnight. Rest well. Love you.” You smiled. “Love you, too.”

You were Hanbin’s biggest fan first, and he was yours. It was clear in the way he checked in on you, guided you through your new career, and lended a helping hand when you couldn’t pull yourself up.

main taglist: @superlegend216

@ haodore

[sadhours]

the diner - part three

billy hargrove x fem!reader

cw: 18+ minors dni, stalking, murder, toxic relationship, trauma, hallucinations, flayed!billy, peeping Tom, horror

He survived. Somehow— someway. Billy survived. Took care of what he should have so long ago. But that monster lingers, still alive within him.

You’re an innocent girl who works next door to him and he can’t help himself. Could you help him or is he too sick?

part one - part two

read on ao3

He’s fucked up royally. Went and got himself caught. Spent two whole weeks expecting the cops to show up to his apartment or his work. It never happened. Half expected his boss to mention it, ask him why he’s peeping through girls’ windows. Nothing. Yet he won’t dare go into the diner.

Doesn’t go to your house for a week. He drives by to see if your car is there but it’s not. Goes to your ex boyfriend's place first, doesn’t see your car and then he goes to your parents house. Confirms you’re there. But Billy doesn’t investigate further. He goes home. Drinks himself into absolute oblivion. Drinks so much he talks to Maxine. But she’s not really there. It helps him though.

“I killed him,” he tells her, voice is so rough from the vomiting. He has to make sure the slugs are all gone. Checks twice a day. Pukes every morning and every night. No slugs.

“He deserved it,” Max tells him. She’s on his countertop. She’s curled into herself, she’s got dark eyes and greasy hair. Her clothes are covered in the slop of the upside down. Her face looks as sunken in as his feels. She fidgets a lot.

“He cried,” Billy offers, voice flat and emotionless as he relives it. “I told him I wished I’d done it sooner. Brought him to the monster. So I wouldn’t have to do the hard part.”

Maxine is curious. Wants details. “How did you do it?”

“Stabbed him. I don’t know how many times— a lot. It was messy,” Billy whispers. Knows the apartment is empty, though he’s staring right at a sickly step sister. A burdened one. A step sister who isn’t really here. He checked in— knew she was alive. In a rundown trailer with a drunken Susan. Blames himself. He knows Susan took a lot of the brunt of Neil but he paid for everything. Even if he hit Susan, he took care of her— kept her clean. He told Billy how he’d found her. How he saved her and her little girl. And Billy hated them. Because he couldn’t be saved. But he hated Max most because Neil didn’t touch her. Susan was in the same boat as he was. She knew how Neil was. First hand. Max only seen it secondhand. Max watched as Neil hurt him. Max heard it when he hit Susan. Crawled into Billy’s lap, sobbed and clung onto him. Billy apologized, told her he wished it was like it was before. Where Neil only had him to hurt. Told Max that her mom didn’t deserve this. That he did. Rubbed her tiny back as she cried into his neck and told him she missed her dad.

“I hope he suffered,” the image of Max tells him. Has this sadistic smile that looks foreign on her young face. She looks supernatural. Like a demon, maybe like the devil on his shoulder as he recounts this devpraved moment of his life.

“I liked it,” he exhales, “I felt so fucking good when the life left his eyes. I laughed. I couldn’t stop laughing.”

Max grins and nods.

“I kept stabbing him. Blood was gushing out everywhere. I was fucking covered in it but I couldn’t stop,” Billy whispers, his own lips curling up like the little demonic step sister on the counter. “He looked so fucking pathetic and weak.”

“I’m proud of you.”

Billy feels warm all over.

“You saved us.”

It’s his imagination. Neil left them as soon as he heard Billy had died. Billy wishes he had died. But he… he didn’t. He remembers the monster penetrating his skin and muscle and organs. He remembers staring into the strange girls eyes as it happened. But then he woke up. In that hellscape. Had to live in it for god knows how long. Worked his way around, killing weird demonic creatures until he saw this… thing in a tree. Like a mirror. And he shoved his hand through it, and there was something on the outside. So he crawled through it. Found himself in the woods of Hawkins. Covered in slime and filth.

He didn’t save Max. Or maybe he did. He’s not sure.

Max keeps smiling this creepy smile. Billy feels safe. He talks to her for hours and hours that night.

—

Billy’s elbow deep in an old Ford truck. One of the farmers here. He told the fucker it was time to retire the truck. The transmission is fucked, flooded with fluid. Can’t hold onto gears. But the guy insists it’s a quick fix so Billy sent him off, told him he’d try his best.

And he is. He’s covered in oil and fluids. Hair tied up and sleeves pushed up past his elbows. He’s completely dismantled the engine. And he’s chewing on his lip as he stares down at the parts laid out on the concrete floor of the shop when the bell dings. Alerting him someone’s come in. He’s the only one here so he ventures out to the front. Sees a confused looking you. An uneasy look on your face when you see him and he gets it.

“Hi.”

“My cars not working,” you say. “It won’t start.”

“You try to jump it?” he asks, grabbing a towel on the counter and tries to clean his hands.

You fidget with the strap of your purse as you shrug and admit, “I don’t know anything about cars.”

He heaves a sigh, looks back at the dumb ford and looks to you, “Where’s it at?”

“In the parking lot,” you answer softly. “I-I don’t know what I did.”

“Hey,” he shakes his head, “Shit happens. It’s okay. It’s probably a dead battery. Did you leave the headlights on or something?”

“No!” you reply, shaking your head profusely. “It was fine on the way here, I don’t know what happened.”

Billy grabs his keys, “Let’s try to jump it. Go stand by it.”

You nod and rush out of the shop. He gets in his car, drives the short distance to yours and parks in front of it before popping the hood. He’s fucked kind of. Now you know what car he drives.

He grabs his jumper cables from his trunk and walks back around. “Open the hood,” he instructs you. He likes you following his orders. You obey, watching as he connects the cables and he tells you to go try to start it. Nothing. It clicks and clicks.

“Press down on the gas!” he calls to you and again, nothing.

The two of you keep trying for a while before Billy decides to run into the shop. Grabs the right battery and brings it back out. Replaces yours with the new one but your car still doesn’t start.

“Alright,” he sighs, “it’s probably the alternator. Let’s get it into the shop. Put it in neutral and I’ll push, you just gotta steer.”

It’s kind of a frustrating journey. He has to keep yelling at you to turn the steering wheel as he’s pushing it. He hopes you recognize how strong he has to be in order to push your car. But then he’s screaming at you again to push on the breaks. But eventually, the pair of you get your car into the shop. He tells you to take a seat and he disappears to find the parts he needs.

Then he comes to you with an apologetic face.

“I gotta order something. Might take a week or two to get here,” Billy tells you, braces for you to be angry like most the fuckers that come in.

You just look defeated, “What’s wrong with it?”

“I think it’s just the alternator,” he replies, “it’s really an easy fix. But I don’t have it in stock.”

“A whole week? How am I supposed to get around?” you reply, voice so shy and quiet and sad and it kind of makes his dick twitch. He ignores it.

He shrugs, “I… I mean… we work next door to each other. I could drive you.”

The uncertainty— perhaps fear, is clear on your face. So he clarifies, “I mean if no one else could.”

There’s this weird feeling weighing in. He creeped into your window. You both know it. But when he was caught, he ran and he ignored you completely until now.

“Can you at least drive me to my parents?” you ask.

Billy nods, “‘Course. Let me lock up.”

“Oh, you don’t have to like, stop what you’re doing and right now,” you tell him, eyes all wide and pretty.

He laughs and shakes his head, points to the Ford and tells you, “I wanna burn this fucking thing so really, I need the time away.”

“Worse than my car?” you ask with a smile and he nods.

“This thing is deader than dead. A fix that costs more than the fucking whole truck but this dude insists it’s not that. As you can see, I’ve taken the whole engine apart and uh— as I thought, the fucking transmission is full of metal shards. So yeah, worse than your car,” he explains as he scratches the back of his neck.

“You know a whole lot about cars, huh?”

“I hope so. It’s kind of how I make money,” he says.

You nod. Subtle smile on your face. Like you know something he doesn’t. He wants to. He walks away to lock the place up, walks you out towards his car and lights a smoke before he gets inside. He asks for directions but Billy knows exactly where your parents live.

“Thanks,” you tell him. “I really appreciate the help… I have no idea what I did to make my car break.”

Billy laughs, turns towards you and shrugs, “Sometimes they break, nothing you did to make that happen.”

“I probably did something, my dad tells me I have to let it warm up and I never do,” you say and look ashamed as you say it.

“He’s right, but that’s not what caused this. Your car is like 20 years old, stuff is gonna break,” he insists.

The ride to your parents house is awkward— silent aside from the directions you mumble out. Billy smokes one after another Marlboro, keeps his body aimed forward without a glance your way. But in the small interior of his beat up car, he can smell you. A mostly unpleasant smell from the greasy diner food but faintly he can detect some floral, citrusy thing underneath. Perfume, he thinks or maybe your shampoo. He wants to smell it uninhibited, fresh out of the shower and laid on a bed for him.

Upon arriving at your parents house, you flee with only a short goodbye. A barely there whisper. Not even a thank you, which Billy thinks is fucking rude. And you run into your parents house, closing the door without a look over your shoulder.

It fills Billy with anger, a familiar feeling. The emotion he’s always been quick to. Times like this he really misses his Camaro. Could put his boot to the pedal and zip off, leaving the anger with the burnouts in the pavement. But the Camaro is long gone and he’s driving a fucking Ford Capri and it not kept well. Rusted to shit and he’s had to basically rebuild the engine piece by piece since he got here. His boss is nice, helped him out a lot with stuff but Billy’s not sure how much longer he can stay here. Especially with you going and seeing him peeking into your window. But more than that, he don’t wanna leave without getting something from you.

[fair-fae]

FFxivWrite24 Entry #22: Taken (You Pick)

FFxivWrite 2024 Prompt #19: Taken Prompt #22: (you pick!)

“‘S’this seat taken?” The words stole her attention away from her half-emptied glass of wine and she peered up at the man who had approached, her gaze roaming over him from head to toe, assessing her prospective company before she settled on an answer. She apparently decided she was pleased with what she saw, the corners of her lips slowly curling into a coy grin and an easy, “I suppose not,” slipping past them. One gloved hand lifted lazily to gesture to the empty barstool next to her, inviting him to join her.

The man seemed equally pleased by her response, judging by his wolfish grin, and he took the offered seat. He didn’t bother to flag down the bartender for a drink. Instead, his focus was fixed wholly upon the beautiful woman beside him. “What’s a gorgeous lady like you doing here all alone? Ya ain’t got somebody at home?” She shook her head, another sly smile playing on her face. “I have a husband at home, but it seems he has decided not to join me tonight.” “Oh yeah? Sounds like a real fuckin’ asshole.” A noise better described as a flirtatious giggle than a laugh escaped her, and she propped her chin upon her palm, gazing over at the charming stranger. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. I’ve found far finer company tonight, haven’t I?” Her free hand crept toward him, daring to rest over his own. At her touch, his eyebrows lifted into a look of surprise more feigned than genuine. “That how this is? Bored, lonely noblewoman lookin’ to lower herself for a good time with some commoner for a night?” “It doesn’t have to be just one night,” she cooed, threading her fingers through his. “Why? Do you have any objections? I venture I wouldn’t be your first.” “Nah, ya wouldn’t be. And not at all, gorgeous. Some other prick might leave you all alone, but I ain’t dumbass enough what not to ‘ppreciate a beautiful woman’s attention when I have it.” “Good. It sounds like we’re on the same page.” She offered his hand a gentle squeeze, her opposite grabbing her glass of wine so she could down the last of its contents before setting it aside on the bar. “Should we get out of here and head somewhere quieter, then?” “If that’s what you want,” he obliged, helping her down from her barstool with their still joined hands. “Ya sure your husband ain’t gonna be pissed? He gonna come beat my ass?” “He can be rather possessive. I hear he’s quite formidable, too.” Only then did Faye dare to lean forward and steal a kiss from the man’s lips, the taste of wine still lingering fresh on her own. Her eyes met with his, a slitted pair of blue and gold. “But I’m sure he can make an exception, just this once.”

@its-the-val-pal

[julie-loves-cake]

Red Guy doesn’t have lips

RED GUY

DOESN’T HAVE LIPS

HE DOES HAVE A MOUTH AND TEETH

BUT NO LIPS

WHAT HAPPENED TO THEM

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: implied noncon, yandere

fem reader

The way Gojo Senpai is so obnoxious, he doesn’t understand his flirting is making you uncomfortable…

He seriously thinks he’s making you fall head over heels in love with him even when you give him nothing in return to make him think that. He just thinks you’re embarrassed and nervous, flustered by his attention, and that’s the reason you divert your gaze and bite your lip when he has you against the lockers, leaning on his hand with his shades gliding low on his nose—telling you that you have no shot becoming a sorcerer, but that you look too cute in the uniform not to give it your best try. 

“Don’t worry, just say my name, and I’ll come save you,” he’ll say. “You can be my personal assistant supervisor instead.” 

His game isn’t anything to brag about. It's more in line with bullying than flirting, but you pick up on the suggestiveness. That heated saccharine look within his blue eyes can only mean one thing if the way he plays with your hair isn’t enough of a hint already.

But his words are nothing short of derogatory, and all in all, he simply makes you feel gross—a sentiment you thought you put across, but it seems that having six eyes only makes you blind.

It takes Shoko telling him to leave the poor Kohai alone for him to finally understand that you don’t like him. And then he’s just confused and embarrassed.

And a tinge bit irritated.

Gojo knows for a fact he could make any girl want him. Even those who seem to hate him would melt if he gave them the same attention he’s been giving you. Any girl. He could have any girl, but he chose you. And you reject him?

No. He can’t accept that.

“Most girls would be grateful for my attention,” He states plainly after having tracked you down.

Your head snapped, jolting. “Gojo Senpai—” You dropped the mop in your hands with a clatter, having been deep in your own thoughts on classroom cleaning duty. You sighed as the scare settled, giving a breathy laugh, “You scared me—”

“Is that it?” he interrupted. “I scare you?”

You quirked a brow with a tilt of your head. “What?”

“Do I scare you?” he repeated, louder, posted on the threshold in a stance you’d never seen him in—stiff and squared, not his usual lazy laidbackness.

Confused, your eyes looked around as if searching for clues but came up emptyhanded, “Uhm, I don’t understand—”

“It’s a simple question,” he said, cutting you off again, this time with a step into the classroom. He talked slowly, cradling the next words, “Are you scared of me?”

Where it all came from, you hadn’t a clue. But then again, Gojo Senpai has always been rather strange. 

Were you scared of him? It’s not really something you’ve ever thought about. Sure, if you were to go one versus one with him, you’d probably piss yourself. But in a regular setting, you just found him to be as grating as the next person.

“I don’t think so?” you end up answering.

“Good. So what is it then?” His shades were low enough for his stare to skim over. Brighter than clear skies, and yet, somehow, so dark. “Why don’t you like me.”

Oh, so he’s figured it out on his own then. It’s about time. And thank fuck for it—saves you the trouble of breaking it to him yourself. Though you were still left with the unfair task of telling him why.

“Honestly, Gojo Senpai, I’m not, or well… you’re just not my type.”

Stick to the basics, is what you told yourself. There’s no need to drag this out.

“Yeah, I figured. I’m asking why,” he countered, in complete disagreement with your thought.

Still, you wanted to fight for it. “Does it really matter?”

“Yes.”

This conversation was the last thing you wanted, but it seemed the white-haired prodigy wouldn’t leave without having it.

“Well…” you started, still pondering. Maybe he’d appreciate the honesty? He’s a rather straightforward guy himself. “I mean, there’s no way you don’t already know this, but—” You picked up the broom again mid-sentence. “You’re really obnoxious.”

He took a small second before he scoffed, “So? No one else cares.”

It reminded you of arguing with someone half your age—the petty anger in an ill-thought-through comment slung at you as if it carried all the weight in the world. But what everyone else thought of him hadn’t anything to do with you—and even so, out of the people on campus, you’re certain you’re not the only one who finds his attitude unpleasant—they just don’t tell it to his face. 

You had half the mind to tell him to go get a grip, but he was still your Senpai.

“Good for you, I guess?” You weren’t really looking to fight with him, after all. “So you can flirt with literally anyone else then,” you dismiss him and go back to finish cleaning the classroom—glad to have put it all behind you. You were starting to fear he’d never leave you alone.

There’s a woosh, then the hard thunk of your back hitting the wall. Both your upper arms are gripped tight, pinned. When you open your eyes again after adjusting to the impact, you look straight up into the full view of two crisp comet blues.

“You’re mighty rude for a Kohai. You know that?”

Your head stings. You blink crookedly.

“Senpai—”

“Maybe I’ve misjudged you. D’you have anythin’ for show to back that attitude up?” It’s eerie how he says it in the same flirty fashion he would otherwise—even the look in his eyes are the same. But his grip tightens.

“I don’t want to fight—”

“No?” he cuts you off with a pout. “I could've sworn you were asking for it—all but begging for it a second ago.”

You whimper, cowering at the sudden bite in his voice.

“What’s the matter, huh? I thought you said you weren’t scared?”

Your voice comes out weak, “Please, Gojo Senpai, I—”

“Please?” he questions brightly, eyes stark and burning like a stovetop. “Yeah, that’s got a nicer ring to it—suits you better.” The smile that splits across his face is nothing short of unhinged. “But it’s not enough for me to let your disrespect slide.” He licks his lips, and a chill runs up your spine, feeling like caught prey. “Lucky you, I know exactly what price to put on it.”

His mouth devour yours the same way—pouncing like a beast would, with teeth more than lips, then a tongue. You whine as you twist—it’s more instinctive than deliberate when your knee shoots up into the unprotected space between his legs—right into that thing that was rubbing and rutting against you.

You make a run for it as he staggers back with a hiss, but you don’t make it farther than three measly steps before you’re bent over the closest desk.

His fist wrangles your hair, using it to shove you face-down against the wood—the weight of his body on top of your back with his voice raspy against your ear. “We could’ve left this with a kiss, but I don’t think it’s gonna be that easy now.”

Tears spill hotly in a panic, but no matter how much strength you put into lifting yourself up, you remain down. Sobbing, “Let go—help—”

He snickers with a hand under your skirt, spidering delicately up your thigh. “Who’re you callin’ for help, hm? I’m already here.”

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[sunrizef1]

Girl back home

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x wife!reader

Warnings: cursing (I think)

Authors note: this took forever, but now I can actually work on whiv now that I’ve finished this

Summary: Everyone keeps trying to set Logan up, but no one bothers to ask if he's already got a girl (surprise! he does!)

Word Count: 4.2k (jesus)

“What about her? she’s pretty,” Alex asks as he points at the five hundredth model to walk past the Williams garage that day.

If it hadn’t been his home race, Logan might have walked away an hour ago when Alex’s pointing started but instead, he stayed, choosing to endure Alex’s unrelenting matchmaking.

“No, Alex. I’ve already said no to about 50 other girls you’ve pointed out, what makes you think she’d be different,” Logan groans, his head leaning back to rest against the wall behind them.

Alex purses his lips, a frown on his face, “Why won’t you let me get you a girlfriend?”

Logan pauses to stare at the ceiling of the garage for a second before he turns his head to face the man next to him, “I don’t need a girlfriend.”

“Yeah sure man, I’ve seen you stare quietly at a wall by yourself more times than you’d probably admit. If that doesn’t scream “I need a girlfriend” then I don’t know what does,” Alex shrugs before turning back to face away from his friend, his hand coming back up to point at a pretty-faced blonde girl making her way past the garage, even smiling when she locks eyes with Logan, “Ooh what about her? She seems to like you!”

Logan just hums in response, his eyes closing as he leaves Alex to talk to himself.

In reality, Logan truly didn’t need a girlfriend. He had something even better, a wife. Who also happened to be you. You had met when you were kids and had been in love ever since. You liked to joke that it was love at first sight but every time you said it, Logan would wonder how much of a joke it really was.

You had been there for every step in his career, through the wins and the losses, through karting to Formula racing. So when he proposed after the end of the f3 season in 2020, no one close to you was really surprised.

You got married shortly after, neither one of you wanting a big, flashy wedding. Instead, the wedding was small but still nice, just some close friends and family in attendance. Even Oscar had been there and he made sure to reference the event to everyone who wouldn’t understand when around Logan. He loved to talk about the “party” Logan had in 2020 to the other drivers who, frankly, had no idea what he meant.

When he got his move to Formula One, you were over the moon for him. You didn’t worry about long-distance. You had made it work in the past and you both had total confidence in each other to make it work. You continued your degree in engineering and he continued his career in racing. You tried to make it to races when school would let you, which wasn’t often, and he was more than happy to fly you out when he could.

Logan genuinely loved you more than anything. With that being said, this meant that he did not have the time of day for anyone trying to set him up with the Instagram model of the week who had decided to visit a garage.

But at the same time, he also didn’t feel the pressure to share your marriage with anyone. He didn’t really know any of the other drivers very well and if they wanted to know more about him, they could ask. It’s just that no one ever did.

Except, it seems, when they wanted to set him up.

“Hey, Logan!” A British voice calls out to the American, whose head shoots up at the uncommon voice.

“What’s up, mate?” The blonde asks Lando, pocketing the phone where he had just been texting you to ask about your engineering final.

Lando grins and places a hand on the American's shoulder, raising his voice to be heard above the sounds of the paddock, “I was talking to Oscar and he mentioned something about your love life and something about you being lonely, I don’t really remember what he said but anyway, I’m talking to this girl and she has this friend who I think would be perfect for you.”

Logan’s face drops at the brunette's words, a frown replacing his smile, “I’m cool Lando, thanks though.”

Lando furrows his eyebrows, disbelief written on his features, “You sure, mate? She’s sooooo fine.”

Logan just nods his head in response, backing away from the McLaren driver slowly, “Yeah I’m sure Lando, you have fun thinking about your girlfriend’s friend though.”

Lando doesn’t seem to catch the diss as he just glances up and down at Logan before shaking his head and turning on his heel to head back to his garage. Logan sighs before taking his phone back out of his pocket to see another text from you. A grin breaks out on his face as he sees your name.

Logan hadn’t talked to very many of the drivers on the grid, often feeling on the outs of a lot of conversations. So he’s even more surprised to see Charles Leclerc making his way toward him at a club. A club he had only agreed to come to so he coule be Oscar's designated driver, by the way.

“Eyyy, it’s the American!” Charles says, the alcohol clearly present in his voice. The lights are too dimmed but if they were brighter, Logan would be able to see the lipstick smudges around his white collar.

“Hey, Charles,” Logan replies, scepticism laced in his voice. The Monegasque leans closer to him, the drink in his hand sloshing around in the cup.

“I have something to tell you,” Charles slurs a bit, leaning dangerously before a pretty brunette comes up and grabs him, based on her lipstick shade compared to Charles’ shirt, she had already been more than acquaintances with him before this conversation.

Logan glances at the pair before responding dryly, “Oh no.”

Charles grins before pointing back to where he had come from, a dark-haired girl sitting at the table, “That’s Natalie.”

“Navaeh,” the brunette pipes up to correct Charles as he nods in response.

“Yeah, Nivia. Anyway, she’s a friend of mine and she’s been eyeing you all night, thought you’d want her number.”

Logan rolls his eyes at the very clearly drunk couple in front of him, increasing his headache from the pounding EDM, “What an assumption there Charles. I’m actually good though.”

“What?” Charles asks, squinting to see the blonde under the club lights.

“No thanks,” Logan smiles tightly before moving to step around the couple and probably tell Oscar that either they were both leaving or Oscar was getting an Uber, “You guys have a good night though.”

The couple is already too busy sucking face to realize he’s left.

“I just don’t understand why they keep trying to set me up, I’m perfectly happy with you,” Logan complains to you over the phone a few nights later.

You were sat in your dorm, engineering work strewn across your desk and your roommate at a party somewhere. You were trying to get as much work done as possible before Logan came to Austin for the GP so you could spend the weekend with him.

“I mean, have you told them you’re married?” You ask, trying to stifle a yawn as your hand moves to write down the equation for the problem in front of you.

Logan shakes his head, the movement almost imperceptible through the small phone screen, “Nah, but it’s just that no one’s asked you know? I’m just waiting for someone to say “Hey Logan, you got a girl back home?” Before they try and set me up with some Instagram model they know.”

You smile softly as he talks, his hands moving to mess with his blond hair periodically. He eventually looks back to the screen once he’s done ranting and is met with your smiling face filling his phone screen, “What?”

“I love you,” you say warmly, your grin practically splitting your face.

Logan blushes before laughing and shaking his head to hide the redness on his face, “I love you too. I’ll see you next week yeah?”

You look down at the now-completed homework in front of you. Homework that could’ve taken about 2 fewer hours if you weren’t on call.

“Yeah I’m done with this. I’ll turn it into my professor tomorrow and after that I am free. When do you get in?” You ask, shuffling the papers together and sliding them into your bag before moving out of your chair and flopping onto your bunk, sleep clouding your eyes.

“Uhh,” Logan pauses, glancing at his suitcase. In reality, he was supposed to get in twenty two hours and six minutes from when he hung up the call, his flight leaving in three hours and arriving in Austin after a 16 hour flight and a 2 hour layover in DFW followed by an hour long flight to Austin. He would effectively be arriving about a week before any of the other drivers. Besides maybe Daniel. But he couldn’t say any of that. He wanted to surprise you, especially now that you had no work to do. So instead he just hums, “Next week I think.”

“That’s great, babe,” you yawn, a small smile on your lips at the idea of him being back with you again, “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Yeah?” Logan grins.

You hum, your eyes drifting closed slightly, “Yeah.”

Logan notices your less-than-awake state and finally decides to end the call, “Goodnight, I love you.”

You yawn again, your eyes fluttering shut, “Good morning Logan, I love you too.”

The call ends quickly after and Logan glances at the time, grinning when he sees the 8:24 am displayed on his phone screen. You’d both had to deal with the difference in time zones for so long, you probably had all the time zones memorized. Or at least you remembered enough to call out good morning instead of goodnight while he was in Qatar.

His flight touches down twenty-two hours later and the first thing he does is call you.

“Hey what's up?” It's about 10:30 in Austin and the only thing you were doing was picking up barbeque from this place on the edge of campus that your roommate had been raving about.

“Not much, just bored,” Logan replies, his eyes scanning the background of the face time call for where you could possibly be this late.

You glance down at your phone for a second to do the same, eyebrows furrowing, “Where are you? It looks dark.”

Logan glances around slightly before replying, “In a car,” he wasn't lying, he really was in a car. Just one that was ubering to your campus instead of one with his team in Qatar, “Where are you? It's like 10 pm over there.”

“Just picking up some food,” you reply, eyes looking over the moonlit sidewalk that threads through the well-kept grass that surrounds you.

“This late?”

You laugh, “I slept through dinner.”

Logan smiles before sliding forward slightly when the car stops, “Are you just going back to your dorm?”

You look around quickly, “Yeah it's like a quarter mile back though.” You tighten your grip on the bag in your hand, the plastic having started to slip. Maybe your Ugg slides hadn't been the best choice for this walk but you'd manage.

“Oh yeah I know where you are, I remember eating at that place last time I was there,” Logan pulls his suitcase out of the trunk and tips the driver, checking periodically to make sure you hadn't clocked him.

“Yeah yeah, really good stuff and the owner remembered me today, guess I've been there enough times,” You laugh, starting to move back in the direction of your dorm once again.

By the time you had stopped to readjust the bag of food and your shoes, Logan had already started to speedwalk in the direction of your dorm. As he walks he passes enough drunk college kids to fill the football stadium they had all visited so many times.

You're walking pretty slowly, enjoying the moonlight shining brightly on the campus. Your shoes definitely weren't making you any faster to be fair.

“You turn your assignment in?” Logan asks, hoping you don't notice his eyes darting around the campus in search of you.

You nod, reaching a hand up to rub at your sleepy eyes, “Yeah, he even gave me extra credit for turning it in so early.”

Logan nods absentmindedly and you raise an eyebrow as you watch him do it before his eyes lock on something and he abruptly ends the call, “I've got to go, love you!”

You stand staring at your phone with a confused look on your face for a moment, words dying on the tip of your tongue. Weird.

You shake your head before moving to walk again, Logan's weird actions at the forefront of your mind.

Before you can even take a step, someone calls out your name and you turn quickly to see Logan standing there with the biggest grin on his face.

You gasp and wrap him in a bone-crushing hug warmth spreading through you from his arms. You move to spread kisses all across his face and for a few minutes, you both just stand there, not having seen each other in a few months and taking the time to readjust.

“I missed you,” you mumble into his shoulder, unexpected tears starting to spring from your eyes.

He just sets you down before wrapping a hand around the side of your face, “I missed you too.”

You bring a sweater-clad hand up to wipe away a tear before grabbing the food in one hand and grabbing his hand in the other, starting to lead him back to your dorm.

He grabs his suitcase as you start moving, “Is your roommate here?”

“No, you know how she is. She'll be with her new boyfriend for a few weeks so we're fine,” you wave away his question as you walk toward the building a few hundred feet away.

He smiles in response, “Hope you got enough food for two.”

You just laugh joyously.

A week and a half later, you’re stood in the hotel room Logan’s team had provided him, the room much nicer than your cramped dorm room. You had spent the last 12 days exploring Austin with your husband, making up for the time spent away from each other.

You had accidentally slept through Logan’s departure for the morning, waking up to a text explaining that, with your busy class schedule, he wanted you to get as many days of sleeping in as possible but he had gotten you breakfast and it was currently sitting in the kitchen.

You smiled at the text, appreciating Logan’s thoughtfulness. In the kitchen was a coffee from your favourite coffee shop as well as a McGriddle from McDonalds, which, no doubt, hurt Logan to order considering he wasn’t allowed to eat them.

You quickly ate the food, texting Logan to thank him. He texts back surprisingly quickly, considering he was supposed to be in a meeting.

He filled you in on how his morning had gone before asking when you’d get to the paddock for the race. You replied that you’d be there soon, quickly sliding on a light jacket over your tank top and jean shorts, preparing for the Austin heat.

Considering you had never been in the COTA paddock before, you would rather be in any situation other than your current one. There were about three hours until the race and you had no idea where the Williams garage was. You had gotten in just fine but, for some reason, you couldn’t find the blue of the Williams employees anywhere.

Logan wasn’t answering his phone, which you expected considering he had already been reprimanded for being on his phone during a meeting once this morning. Now you were left by yourself, trying to navigate the busy paddock.

You were somehow in a sea of orange, eyebrows furrowed. You turn in a quick circle, eyes setting on a curly-haired man in an orange polo who you take a few quick steps towards, hoping he can help you with directions.

“Excuse me,” you call out to the man who turns around swiftly, eyes pulling across your figure before landing on your face.

“How can I help you, love?” The man replies, a British accent laced through his voice and a sharp grin on his rosy lips.

You glance around slightly, leaning away from the man’s hungry gaze, “Do you know where the Williams garage is?”

He nods his head but keeps his eyes locked on your face, his smirk unfaltering, “Yeah, yeah, it’s just down that way.”

He points to nowhere in particular, moving to lean against the wall you’re standing near, “What’s your name, darling?”

You have to hide the smirk that tries to escape you at the fact that this man clearly has no idea you were married and also clearly thought you’d be an easy girl to flirt with considering his unwavering confidence.

You tell him your name and a grin breaks out on his face, “Pretty name, I’m Lando.”

Ah, so this was Lando. You had only ever seen him with his helmet on and from what you heard from Logan, his current behaviour made perfect sense. Logan hadn’t talked a lot about the Brit but he had mentioned him a few times considering he was Oscars teammate.

You hum, glancing around amusedly around the garage. You and Lando talk for a few more moments before a shorter figure clasps a hand on his shoulder. You lock eyes with the newcomer, grinning when you see a familiar boy standing behind Lando.

"Hey Osc," You smile at the Aussie. Oscar glances sideways at Lando, eyes shifting across his face before they turn to you. You just smile sweetly at the man who reciprocates the grin back at you.

"Hey," Lando glances confusedly between the two of you at Oscar's response. When Lando's confusion goes on a bit too long, Oscar turns and swings an arm around your shoulder, effectively moving the both of you away from the still-confused McLaren driver.

"I assume you're looking for Williams, then?" Oscar asks, running his free hand through his hair which had already begun to stick to his forehead from the Austin heat.

You hum in affirmation, sliding your sunglasses down your nose as the two of you step into the sun to make your way to your husband's garage.

Oscar makes conversation as he pulls you along, talking to you about how his season had gone and also asking a lot of questions about your engineering classes.

“I’d do a video for you, shock all your classmates,” Oscar says when you tell him you had to do a presentation explaining the engineering behind a piece of machinery and you had chosen a Formula 1 car.

You laugh, shaking your head as you do, “Yeah? I'd take you up on that, but I have a driver who'd be much easier to get a video from.”

Oscar snorts, smiling as you reach the Williams garage, “Lando?”

You roll your eyes as the name leaves his lips, hitting the back of his head with the small bag in your hands, “Don't get me started on Lando. You know he tried to set Logan up with one of his friends?”

Oscar furrows his eyebrows, “What?”

“Yeah, Lando said you told him Logan’s love life was lonely or something like that,” You reply, glancing around passively in search of your husband.

Oscar somehow manages to furrow his eyebrows even deeper, mouth opening and closing in disbelief, “That’s not what I said at all.”

“Tell him that.”

You both walk into the garage after that, you move to make conversation with Benny who’s sat to the side, surprise crossing his face as he sees you.

Oscar, though, spots Logan and makes his way to him quickly. He clasps a hand on the blonde's back who turns to face him with a grin, “What’s up Osc?”

“Lando was flirting with your wife,” Oscar states flatly, trying to push down the grin on his face.

Logan blinks a few times in an attempt to understand what the Aussie just said, “What- why?”

“Don’t think he knew she was your wife, mate.”

Logan rolls his eyes before turning around slightly to resume his conversation with his engineer. He stops mid-turn and swings back around to Oscar quickly, eyes wide, “My wife’s here?”

Oscar laughs at the American's face, stepping out of his line of sight so he can see you conversing with Benny.

Logan grins, sliding past the other boy to step toward you as quick as he can, wrapping his arms around you from behind. Oscar can’t hear what you two say to each other but he can see the love painting your faces as Logan plants a kiss on the top of your head. Benny smiles at the two of you, walking away to let you two talk.

As Oscar leaves the Williams garage, he briefly debates telling Lando you were married, especially to Logan, but he eventually decides not to. He’d figure it out eventually. Also might help to have him learn the hard way.

You sat in the garage for the entire race. But when Logan ends the race in eight, you’re jumping up happily to follow the Williams employee guiding you to where he’ll be.

The moment he’s done being weighed, he runs over to you, pulling his helmet off and unzipping his suit to his hips.

He grasps the side of your face, pulling you to him as he kisses you softly. He pulls away slightly and rests his forehead against yours, lifting a hand to grab the one you have against the side of his face, fingers brushing over your wedding ring.

“Thank you for being here. I love you.”

You can’t help the lovely laugh that escapes you, throwing your head back a bit to escape the heat rising on your cheeks, “I love you too, dork. I’m so proud of you.”

He smiles before leaning to catch you in another kiss.

Lando had finished the race in 4th. Not bad considering who had finished in front of him. He’d already talked to his team so he was now just roaming around, looking for someone to talk to.

He locks eyes on you and takes a few steps toward you before someone comes running past him. He looks over to see Logan grasping your face in his hands before pulling you down into a kiss.

He can’t help but stand in shock for a few moments although he can sense a couple people walking up next to him. He glances beside him to see Charles and Alex, both also staring at Logan in disbelief.

“What the hell?” Lando asks, to no one in particular. Luckily, or unfortunately, for him, someone has an answer.

“Are you lot staring at Logan and his wife?” Lando doesn’t look over to catch the amused look on Oscar’s face as he asks the question. But Alex does, and he furrows his eyebrows at the younger man.

“Sorry?” Alex asks the Aussie who just smiles and turns back to the couple, still smiling in each other's embrace.

Charles is the first one to notice anything and he smacks the other two on the head when he does, “They’re both wearing wedding rings.”

Alex blinks for a second, caught in the strange reality that he hadn’t noticed his teammate wearing a wedding ring the whole season. He pulls out his phone to go through old photos and low-and-behold, Logan’s wearing a ring in every single one.

“Jesus Christ,” Lando mumbles, running a hand through his damp curls, “I flirted with her.”

“Yeah,” Oscar nods, hands on his hips, “I probably wouldn’t talk to Logan for a while if I were you. Unless you want to find out how they do it in Florida.”

Lando gulps at the boy's words, of course, having no idea how they “do it” in Florida but only assuming he’d end up with a black eye. Oscar has to stifle a laugh, knowing Logan would most likely just laugh it off if Lando genuinely apologized. Not that Lando would.

Oscar's eyes drift across the trio of confused drivers, most likely all going through their memories of the times they had tried to set Logan up.

“You told me he was lonely,” Lando finally whines out, turning back to Oscar who shakes his head.

“I told you he was lonely because his girlfriend couldn’t make it to any of the races. If you would listen, you would’ve heard that part.”

Lando has no defence to that and turns his head back again to watch as Logan laughs at something you said, fingers intertwined together.

When the news spread across the paddock the next day, Logan received a lot of incredulous texts from drivers and employees alike, all shocked that he was in a relationship, let alone married.

Logan didn’t read any of them, he was too busy hanging out with you.

Except, of course, the message from Oscar that included three specific drivers all with their eyes wide as they stared at him and you.

——————————————————

Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119

[roturo]

-; ੈ♡˳ MINISKIRT

JJK MEN REACTING TO YOU TEASING THEM WITH A MINISKIRT! ★༉‧₊˚✧

(gojo satoru, geto suguru, choso kamo, nanami kento)

contents: smut, nsfw, sub behavior, PRAISE, miniskirts, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, whimpering, overstimulation, edging, jealousy, sub-space, fluff, possesive behavior, all of them being DOWN for you, and lovesick for you.

A/N: wrote this while watching the office and drunk so npr, and proabably took so long to write because of this.

gojo satoru

He knows what you’re trying. That’s why he doesn’t give in. And it’s much more difficult when that tiny miniskirt is the color of his eyes, matching perfectly with a top as small as your skirt of his hair color.

Bending over the table just so he could see the matching panties while you ‘try to have a closer look to what Nanami is showing you’ – And he doesn’t know what angers him more, the fact you’re doing this to annoy him and probably other people behind you are watching your panties which he’s trying to cover with his body, or the fact Nanami is more likely watching your tits through that tiny top you’re wearing right now. 

He pinches the back of your thigh, making you squeak and sit again as a reaction– looking to your side finding Satoru giving you a glare easily expressing ‘stop what you´re doing’ – and maybe that’s what makes you more eager to tease him now that you’re feeling the wetness coming out of you.

And you know he’s suffering right now. Not only because he’s jealous, but because you’re giving a small piece to someone else of what he supposed it was his.

“Nngh- please baby, i’m sorry- but I couldn’t stand him watching how precious you looked” His cries went to deaf ears as you rode him, edging him for the third? fourth? time. He had some ‘childish’ (that’s what you called it) outburst because he couldn’t stand you teasing him like that, and suddenly after pinching your thigh moved you towards his lap after you sat so you could feel his raging erection and broke Nanami’s chair with the cursed energy he couldn’t control coming out of his body. Something completely new for him.

“Please princess, it was just- You’re so beautiful I can’t let anyone to- I… I just can’t get enough of you.” He ghosted his lips with yours, trying to kiss them but you wouldn’t let him. You were close to another orgasm too, he was yearning for your touch, begging to whatever god stronger than him so you could give him permission to cum.

Who would’ve thought, huh? 

If Mahito, Sukuna or any of those fuckers watched him lose control to a girl they woulc’ve laughed at his face, but if they experienced how good it was to be inside of you, feeling your liquids coat him and his pelvis while they come out of you— even though you don’t let him cum, they would’ve understand. 

But he won’t let them get even 2 meters near you.

You started kissing his neck, marks that will be very prominent in just some hours, his whimpers bringing you to heaven even with how slow you rode him, just one thrust and he swears he could cum– overstimulation taking the best of him, you just pecked his lips one time and did as what he imagined and failed to keep it in.

“Aw baby, you ruined it! Why couldn’t you wait for me? Wanted to cum so badly? It’s okay, but cum again, okay? Be my good boy and make me cum again mhm?”

geto suguru

Are you doing this on purpose? Or you don't really notice? He swears people could see his raging erection from 10 meters afar, quirks of having a big cock, i guess.

And it’s so fucking embarrasing trying to hide it with the shopping bags you gave him to carry, not only he looked in an awkward position while walking, but the friction– and having you infront of him walking with that mini skirt, would make everyone crazy.

He swears he could just cum while walking and watching your hips move and tease him with your body. 

But you just were clueless. Getting excited to find the store you were looking for and do small jumps which had him rolling his eyes to conceal his need for you.

And he was getting needy. Spraying kisses all over your neck when he back-hugged you, he was making it obvious now! Rubbing himself on you, he needed it.

When you finally arrived home, he couldn’t stand it anymore, throwing away the bags somewhere in the kitchen carrying you– having to steady yourself by grabbing what you could from his back and not fall face into the floor while your legs were hanging on his front.

He carried you all the way into your bedroom and dropped you down softly on your bed while he plastered kisses all over your thighs mumbling about how much he missed being between your thighs and how you’ve been playing games with him this entire day.

You were suddenly overcome with excitement. Your clit throbbed and you desperately needed release. Your breath hitched in anticipation. All you could think about was letting Geto finally give you what you’ve been planning this whole day. 

“You’re so perfect. So perfect f´me– and all you been doin’ this day was tease me with that tiny skirt of yours baby- had to control myself to not go crazy over ya’”

At times like this, where Geto is kneeling right in front of you with his face buried in the middle of your legs, you are grateful that you lived alone. Because it means you don’t have to hold back your moans when Geto swipes his tongue on your clit. You don’t have to hold back as he roams his tongue around your entrance.  You know you genuinely lost it when he wrapped his lips around your bud, giving it a hard suckle that made your hips bucked. Out of instinct, your hand went to his hair. Gripping around the strand of it just to push his head closer to your cunt, letting the tip of his nose pressed against it. 

He inhaled, he fucking inhaled to let your scent filled his nose as if his tongue isn’t enough to make you feel stars.  Soon enough, you are on your knees, with your face buried on your pillow, tears pooling around your teardox as Geto has his mouth back to your pussy. His tongue moves in and out your hole to build up your orgasm. 

“What happened to my teasing girl mhm?”

choso kamo

Poor him. How did he end up in this situation? He swears all he did was give a small peek through your skirt because how couldn’t he?!

You were bending in front of him! And you’re even meaner because you know he has a crush for you since….ever. Kinda embarrassing to be honest. Because he acts like a kid having a crush, even worse, like when a little kid had a crush on their old brothers/sister friends… 

But. He won't lie he loves when you punish him like this. Because you praise him for being such dork for you. 

"It's okay, baby, you're doing so well for me right now," you lean down and place small kisses on his tear-stained cheeks, his red nose with his black mark and his eyelids eliciting a broken sob from him, "Think you can handle a little while longer, puppy?"

And he’s not thinking very clearly right now– Not when you’re pumping his cock in that tempo that has him seeing stars and crying out loud for you.

“yesyesyesy princess– oh my god- oh my fucking god… i´m sosososoooo lucky to be here with you baby, I love you soo much, i’m so, fuck, nngh!”

He was coming for a fifth? six? time right now. He swears he heard something about you telling him you won’t stop jacking him off until he cums dry. 

Choso looked at you, sniffing and wrapping his hand around yours, "But I want to fuck you now..." He mumbled barely audible to you, and you had to close your eyes and take a deep breath or you would've done what he told you to.

And he’s fucking excited for that. To fucking lose his mind and body to you. To dump all his cum wherever and whenever you wanted.

nanami kento

This little fucking pervert! He acts like this ‘oh so mature guy’ when he’s just as down for you as you are for him. He tried not to fall for you once he saw you for the first time in a mission both of you coincidentally crashed into. Being from another part of the world and suddenly connecting through these annoying curses.

But what annoyed him the most was how ‘inappropriate’ you are while working. Wearing those miniskirts of different colors for work. For work!

How is he supposed to focus? How is he supposed to train? Not when you’re moving your legs with that skirt that barely covers your butt and he easily sees the figure of it and your lips begging to be released to be tasted. By him. 

And you finally have him where you wanted, right between your legs. 

Your moans echo inside your bedroom, and maybe tomorrow you will have your neighbor file a noise complaint to you, but you didn’t mind. To have Kento’s attention only to you worth everything. 

At first, Kento wasn't the biggest fan of the size difference between you two, he felt almost too big compared to you.

Well, that was before he knew how good could fuck your needy cunt.

You were just barely holding onto his shoulders, leaving scratch marks that he would not even bother covering up, holding you with ease against the wall. "That's right, bunny, say my name and mark me, let everyone know I'm all yours, let them hear how good I fuck you," Kento whined and clung to you, feeling his cock pumping in and out of your small body, tilting his head forward to look down at the connection between your bodies.

The obvious outline of his length on your lower belly made him roll his eyes to the back of his head, your trembling legs wrapping around his hips, keeping his cock buried deep inside your pulsing pussy, feeling it wanting to milk every drop of his cum.

"Fuck me, more... I need more of your cock kento, please~!"

[zorobff]

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

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

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

word count: 4.7k

“this guy is full of shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

zoro scoffs. “this guy’s definitely–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“hey, you comin’?”

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

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

zoro follows behind you, this time closer than before.

“why would anybody even need this many clothes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“way to keep me humble, luffy.”

“no problem!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

zoro mirrors your smile. “shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“very on brand.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“funky bar? mirror ball island?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“nope, not sailors. we’re pirates!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

a tap on your shoulder answers your plea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“only for pretty things.”

“do you mean me or the dress?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you both know that means yes.

[luveline]

Something for hotch? Maybe where reader gets hurt/a concussion on a case and goes to the hospital but refuses to tell him she went until someone else mentions it?? <3 you dont have to do it if you have something similar but i love your writing!

ty for requesting!! <3 —Hotch will look after you, even when you don’t tell him you need him. fem, 1.7k

cw reader has a concussion

Hotch rubs his face when he knows nobody’s watching. Hand over his eyes, thumb and forefinger working against a brewing migraine. It eases a little of the tension there, but he can’t do it like you can. There’s something in your hands that makes him want to call them lovely hands, such a quaint word. You rub the space between his brows with your thumb until his aching is gone or replaced. Fondness with its own heartbeat wakes whenever you’re near. 

You’re not near. His head hurts. He wants a cup of coffee and a shower and to call Jack. The cases are never over when they’re over, is the thing, and he can’t keep track of everything. He has to answer questions and patch holes now, before the work follows him home to take up space on his desk. 

He talks to police officers, chiefs, victims families and firemen and Penelope, too, anybody who needs to ask him a question. He tells Emily to go back to the hotel because she’s exhausted, and warns Spencer that staying too long will give him another headache. He’s surprised half an hour later when Morgan grabs him by the arm. Hotch assumed he went with Spencer. 

“Hotch, what are you still doing here?” 

Hotch gives him a strange look. It’s not as though Morgan hasn’t seen Hotch clean up a mess before. “Sorry?” 

“I thought you’d be with Y/N.” 

He tries very hard to look casual. The team are often better at pretending they haven’t noticed you and Hotch slowly moving together. “She went home.” 

“No she didn’t, they took her in an ambulance. She’s at the hospital, nobody told you that?” 

Hotch knows Morgan can finish up for him. He doesn’t even say where he’s going or what there is left to do, Morgan is more than capable of handling the unit, and he’s a phone call away. Hotch rushes for an agent with a car and tells them where he needs to go as he punches your speed dial into his phone. Number three, after Penelope and Jess. 

You don’t answer, it makes him feel sick. He calls again and JJ picks up. Blessed, amazing JJ. 

“Hi Hotch.” 

“Is she there? Can I speak to her?” 

“She went in for an MRI a half hour ago.”

“JJ, what happened? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” 

“She said she told you.” A dry laugh from down the phone. “You’d think I’d learn not to trust her. I love her, but she’s a liar.” 

Hotch could say the same thing. “JJ, what happened? What’s wrong with her?” 

“I think she’s embarrassed. When everybody was coming back out, someone stepped on the back of her leg and she slipped down the stairs.” 

“Who stepped on her?” Hotch asks. 

JJ laughs. Hotch wonders if they’re too far into working together to scold her for unprofessionalism, but then he remembers the Unit would fall apart without her and holds his tongue. He’d fall apart without you, maybe, and he could stand to be a little more defensive. 

He’s out of the car and into the hospital in record time. He follows the signs to the Emergency Room, gives your name at the desk, and doesn’t have to flash his badge to get told what room they’ve put you in. He would’ve, and he would’ve threatened legal action. He’s no saint. He’ll abuse the system (in innocuous ways only, of course) if it means he gets to see you. 

You’re in a bed but sitting on the side of it rather than laying down. JJ sits in the chair beside you, two contrasting expressions on your faces. You’re smiling. JJ bites her lip. 

She turns to Hotch with relief. “Hey, look,” she says gently. 

“You took a long time to get here. Was it the moon?” 

Hotch understands quite quickly. “Sorry. Nobody told me you got hurt. What happened to the moon, honey?” 

You give him a vacant look. Turning back to JJ, your hands vying for her arm, you hold her to your stomach gently and squeeze your eyes closed. “The light.” 

Hotch turns to the wall, looking for the light switch. It’s hidden behind other concerning tech, so he’s careful about what he presses. You sigh and draw his attention, wiggling back on the bed to almost fall off the other side. 

“Maybe she thought she told me,” he suggests, not scolding JJ, but unhappy nonetheless. You clearly aren’t in a state to make decisions for yourself. 

JJ rubs your arm. “She got worse after we got here. That’s why they sent for her MRI so quickly. She’s on and off with it, incoherent and normal again.”   

Hotch knows she’s concerned for you, but he can read her restless leg; she hasn’t talked to Will or heard about Henry in hours. “Go back to the hotel, JJ. I have her.” 

JJ gives you a hug, to your confusion, and bypasses him fast. He can hear her phone ringing before the doors shut from her departure. 

He admires her loyalty, he just wishes she’d called him two hours ago. 

You rub your eyes, the loose sleeves of your hospital gown shifting against the loose knot behind your neck, and he genuinely despises the idea that you’d been here, hurt, without him. “Can I tie your gown again?” he asks. 

You nod into your rubbing. 

“I turned the lights off. It shouldn’t be so bright in here anymore.” He rounds the bed to your back, where a great deal of skin is showing. He smiles though he shouldn’t. You poor girl. “You’re a little… stark.” 

“I’m trying to think of some fruit and milk,” you tell him. 

“Do you need help?” 

“Not for the fruit.” 

“But for the milk,” he surmises, bringing the ties of your gown as close as he can without strangling you and tying them in a neat bow. 

“I don’t think that’s what I meant to say.” 

He puts his hand on your shoulder, his thumb to bare skin. “That’s okay, honey, you’re having a little trouble now, but it’ll go away soon. If there were something wrong, the doctor would be here.” 

“You could be a doctor.” 

“I couldn’t. I don’t know anything about medicine.” 

“A very nice doctor. Big hands.” You breathe out loudly, more animated than he’s ever heard you. “Whoo, I’m cold. I think they made me naked.” 

“How about I tuck you in, would you like that?” he asks, leaning over you in hopes of you turning your head. 

You stare up at him. “You want to?” 

“I’d love to. I want you to be comfortable.” 

“My boyfriend might not like it.” 

Hotch tries not to sulk at another horrible symptom. You aren’t only incoherent, but amnesiac. And you’ve forgotten who he is, in a way. At least you’ve remembered you have a boyfriend. He hopes it’s him. 

“No? Why wouldn’t he like it, honey? I’m just trying to take care of you.” 

You visibly fluster. “You’re calling me honey like he does, and he won’t like it ‘cos he takes care of me. He loves to go to places but he doesn’t know where he’s going.” 

That second half is gibberish, he’s sure. Hotch puts his hands carefully under your armpits and manoeuvres you back toward the top of the elevated hospital bed.

You put your hand to your tummy as you lean back, and hiss as your head touches the pillows. “Ow.” 

“Sorry,” he murmurs. 

“Don’t tell Aaron I got hurt.” 

“Why not?” 

“I fell down the stairs. He’s never fallen down the stairs.” 

“I have, actually. Twice. And it doesn’t matter how you get hurt, I want to know you’re alright, so I need you to tell me.” 

He pulls the sheets up to your legs and over your lap. Tucks them tightly behind your back, hands lingering on your hips. He watches you look at him, your cloudy gaze tracking over his eyes, his nose, and his lips. “Aaron?” you ask eventually, lifting your chin. 

“Yes?” 

You breathe out an unmissable sigh of relief. “You didn’t come with me.” 

“I didn’t know you were hurt.” He squeezes your hip softly. “You didn’t tell me. But it’s not your fault, is it? You got hurt.” His voice falls into silk. “Is that warm enough?” 

“I’m glad you’re here. I need you to get my shoes.” 

“No shoes. Can I have a hug?” 

“Why?” 

“Just to hug you,” he says softly. “It might make you feel better.” 

You raise your hands clumsily like your fingers are full of sand, forcing him to see his arms under them and behind your back. Your cheeks align, his rough with stubble, yours warm with the heat of a flush, perhaps from the injury. Your hands flop down onto his back as he rubs two separate, loving paths on the gown and your skin. 

Thank god she’s okay, he thinks. 

“Am I stuck like this?” you ask. 

“Are you worried?” He taps your back. “I doubt it. We might have to stay here for a while, but it’s okay. Feeling better is the priority.” 

“I’d like to go back.” 

“Home?” 

“For breakfast.” 

“Are you hungry? I can find you something to eat.” 

“What?” you ask. 

You sound so genuinely confused that Hotch laughs into your shoulder, before giving the fabric a soft kiss. “It doesn’t matter. I’m gonna bring that chair over and sit with you, okay? We’ll wait for the doctor together.” 

He sits with you for hours, talks to doctors and nurses alike as they come to check your vitals and explain your scans. Your confusion doesn’t lessen until the night time, and even then you act oddly, bringing his hand to your mouth to kiss strange parts of his fingers. The skin shy of his nail. The underside of a knuckle, the curve under the meat of his thumb. 

[ramonathinks]

— LIVE NOW, THINK LATER (NANAMI K.)

warning: (18+) infidelity, car sex, creampie, small feelings (lolll).

“You look beautiful.” A familiar voice startled you. He couldn’t believe his eyes really, your beautiful skin glowing and your eyes twinkling.

“Oh, Kento! I didn’t think you’d make it,” You moved into his arms and he held you tightly, his fingers dancing across your waist.

You pulled away and smiled at him. He chuckled, “Wouldn’t have missed it.” But he wish he did. He hated how this tortured him and wound him up. He hated watching you be in love with someone else.

“I got you something.” He whispered, his fingers playing in your hair. He tried to remember to keep his distance. He could already hear the whispers around him, women judging and asking if you had “any sense at all” or decorum, to be with any other man than your husband right now.

Your husband who was too busy drinking and laughing with his friends to notice. But the women didn’t say anything about that.

“Oh really?” You asked, quirking a brow. “Lemme see it!” You jumped and clapped your hands so excited.

“I’ll have to take you away…” He licked his lips and did a devilish smile. He held up his index finger and walked towards your husband. “Mind if I take her away from you? No more than twenty minutes…” He asked, his tone annoyed as he looked at the man who just married you.

He waved Nanami off and continued back to his conversations. Nanami wanted to hurt him. He wouldn’t have let you go anywhere without him tonight. He wouldn’t have left you alone tonight.

He grabbed your hand and he whisked you away from it all. He took you to his car and looked around, making sure it was nobody near you both. He helped you inside, picking up the bottom of your long white wedding dress and carefully putting it inside.

“Why couldn’t you just wait for me? Huh?” He hated this. “I promised you and—“

“You promised me for years, Kento. Work was always a priority for you. I was tired of being second place.” Your words stung and he knew that it was true but he always figured that you’d stay. When you left he assumed you just needed some space, when you got a boyfriend he reassured himself that you’d come back…but when he saw the wedding invitations and even received one in the mail… he knew that he lost you.

He stared into your pretty eyes and caressed your cheek, “Why did you invite me then? Pity? I can already see how your life is going to be. Married for a year, pregnant with an inattentive husband who’ll fuck his co-worker more than he fucks you. He doesn’t even look at you and those vows of his? The embarrassment on your face told it all. You don’t love him…not how you loved me.”

You swallowed, “Kento… let’s not do this, here.” Your hands were shaky and your palms sweating. “You said you have a gift for me?”

He paused, thinking momentarily. Popping open the glove department and reaching inside, he presented a rectangular blue box with a scarlet red ribbon on top. “For you, I hope you like it.”

He heard you gasp, “A Tiffany tennis bracelet?” Your eyes were wide. “Do you know how expensive these are? Well — of course you do, you bought this one.” You did an awkward chuckle.

He already knew you would ask, when he saw your mouth open. “It was seventy-thousand dollars. I saw it, thought you’d like it and that was that. It’s the least I could do for you, baby.”

“Seventy— Are you insane? It’s beautiful but for that amount? I… you could’ve bought a house or… gosh… I barely even spent fifty thousand on this wedding.”

“Oh, so you really settled.” He muttered and to his surprise you laughed.

“I did.” You agreed with a strained smile and a sad look in your eyes. “Thank you for this… it’s so beautiful and I do love it, I always loved their stuff and I always hated that I left all my jewelry behind, all those years ago.” You released a heavy sigh.

“I still have ‘em. Could drop them off one day, maybe. Or… you could come and get them.” He said and you looked at him with narrowed eyes. He held his hands up in surrender, “No funny business.”

“Yeah right. I already know you brought me out here to try to fuck me.” He coughed in surprise at your words. “A present, really? That you had to take me all the way out here and not give me in front of everyone?”

“I didn’t want to embarrass your husband. That’s all. Nothing more. Honest.” He moved his hands to cover his hardening cock. “But… how’s the sex?”

“You’re that curious? I already told you I settled and you already know there’s nobody better than you.” You looked at him with heavy-lidded hazy eyes, your voice soft as silk.

He swallowed. “Divorce him and I’ll give you the wedding you deserve. I’d spend double the amount of that bracelet on you. You deserve the best, baby. I work and work because I didn’t ever want you to be comfortable living a simple life when I could give you more. I love you and there’s no one like you.” He took your hand and pressed it to his chest. “This has always been yours, it has your name on it and it forever will.”

You kissed him, it was too hot in his car to think about anything. You didn’t care that you were still in your wedding dress or that someone could see you. You just wanted him. He reached forward and put a tightening hand on your waist, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss.

His tongue sucked on yours and swirled inside. Your nails digging into his hair as you pulled him closer towards you. “I want it.” You whispered against his lips, kissing the side of his neck and licking a long stripe up. “Let’s go.” You motioned towards the back and he smiled.

Crawling to the backseat and he palmed your ass. “Naughty, naughty.” You giggled, drunk off something. Drunk off Nanami Kento. He joined you in the back, you pulled at his tie and he happily sighed.

Unbuttoning his pants before he began bunching up your dress, he slid down the thin panties you were and looked between your legs. “This for me?” He looked at you, his dark brown eyes full of pure lust. You were soaked, wetness covering your thighs and your lips stuck together with glossy strings of your essence. You nodded, unable to speak and he kissed you again. It felt like before, when you both started dating and how soft he always was with you.

He inhaled, your smell all over the place and he loved every second of it.

“Does he know that you like to be touched, right here? Or right there?” His fingers were simply dancing across your lower body, working you up just from small touches, but he wouldn’t slip them inside, much to your frustration. Your hips thrusts up a bit, begging for more before all of the warmth of his fingers pulled away.

He slid his pants and boxers down, staring at your soaked folds. His cock had a thick bunch of hair that was lightly trimmed and it looked prettier than you ever seen it, with creamy white precum gushing out of the tip.

He slid a hand down after gathering the small amounts of leaking precum, the lewd sounds of him jerking himself off filled the car and made you whine. “Please, hurry up.” Spreading yourself more so that he can see the cream between your folds drip to his seat. He muttered something quietly and pulled your dress up more, rubbing his cock up and down your slit, both of you hissing and gasping.

Your nails were digging into his forearm when he finally slipped inside of you, he groaned close to your mouth. You huffed, wrapping your legs around his, wanting him to fully be inside of you. When both of your pelvis’s were touching, hips flushed together. He felt you squeeze around him and more of your wetness squirted out of your pussy when he snapped his hips in a solid thrust.

“Does he know your body like me?” Even though you told him earlier, he wanted to know while he was pounding into you, holding up the sides of your wedding dress. His hips were moving dangerously fast now, making your titties bounce. Foreheads touching and his cock filling you up, your eyes rolled back.

“No, he—ah— he doesn’t. Never even made me cum.”

“Oh, so I have to make up for that, don’t I, baby?” He drags his cock in and out of you, the loud sounds of slapping skin made him even harder as he looked at your fucked out expression. Your legs were already shaking, so he added pressure by rubbing your clit in small circles. Tightening around him yet again and he smiled, “That’s my girl.” You rolled your hips, trying to push yourself even closer to your orgasm.

“Look at me. Remember who’s fucking you and who’s making you feel this good, right now. Got that?” He whispered in your ear, biting it playfully.

You felt so good around him, closer to heaven and he knew for this moment with him fucking you right now, he was dragging you closer to hell. Be he couldn’t care less, your tiny cunt creaming around him, your back arching and your toes squeezing.

Your pussy constricts around him and a stream of your cum drips down between the both of you. But Nanami doesn’t stop; he rolls his hips again and fucks more of that creamy wetness out of you. He presses your stomach and you squirm. “I’m gonna come inside of you, ‘kay?” You can’t talk anymore so you just moan and sigh, nodding your head.

Both of your hips bucking, grinding into each other’s pelvis’s, he cums. It’s heavy and you spasm around him, sucking him deeper inside and he shutters. “You feel so fucking good. Could do this all night baby.” He slipped out for a moment, looking at his cum soaked half hard cock, before he pushed back in. You gasped, pushing him back a bit to no avail.

“You love me don’t you, baby?”

“Always, Kento.”

no part two.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Forgetting

Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: Jake forgets to pick you up at the airport because of his ex, and for the first time, you think maybe you and Jake aren't mean to be.

Notes/Warnings: Angst, but ends fluffy. Fighting. Cursing. This was a request that I said I'd have done in a couple days and it took me a week and a half. Sorry about that. Also, please be gentle. I haven't written for Jake in what feels like a millennium.

Words: 2700

Jake Seresin Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List

As much as it would kill you to know that he could be hurt, you hope he’s hurt. You hope he’s on his way to the hospital to receive life-saving treatment because if he’s not hurt, if he’s not receiving life-saving treatment, then he simply forgot about you. And that makes your heart want to claw its way out of your chest and scamper across the floor until it’s well out of your range to catch it. 

Your call goes to voicemail for the fourth time. You send your twelfth text: I hope you’re ok. I landed an hour ago. Please call me. Nothing different than the eleven other messages that have gone unanswered. Forty-five more minutes pass of you sitting on a bench by the airport exit before you finally surrender your last shred of hope and call Bradley to come save you. 

Within the hour, you’re sighing in relief, the sight of a friendly face almost bringing you to tears. He approaches you with open arms and you fall right into the embrace, comforted by the hug that should be in your boyfriend’s arms, and the warmth that should be from your boyfriend’s body, and the forehead kiss that should be from your boyfriend’s lips. 

“Please tell me he’s ok,” you say against your friend’s chest. 

A heavy palm rubs up and down your back. “No one could get ahold of him.”

Your head jerks back so you can meet his eyes. “Oh my god!”

“I’m sure he’s fine, kid. Don’t worry.”

“How can you say that? He was supposed to be here and he’s not and–” You pause when Bradley looks away from you, and a hefty stone settles in your gut. You know your friend well. He’s a good man, honest but sensitive, and when that honestly meets that sensitivity, it results in his inability to look someone in the eye if he thinks the truth might hurt them. You’ve seen it a hundred times, but never with you. 

Your posture wavers with your lengthy exhale. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Another great thing about Bradley: he doesn’t make you play any games. You don’t have to jump through hoops. You don’t have to ask the right questions in the right way in order to get what you need out of him, unlike many men, your boyfriend included, who recently has found ways to skitter around telling the full truth. 

“Javy said he saw him a couple of hours ago,” Bradley says.

Your back teeth clench. Your mind shoots to one conclusion. “With her?” you ask. Bradley’s eyes drift from yours again and you nod, a tear at the ready to leak down your cheek. “He forgot about me because he’s with her.”

“We don’t know that for sure, and–”

Your hand scrubbing down your face cuts him off. Your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose before you suck in your whimper and say, “Rooster, why did he even ask me to come here?”

“Because he…I mean, we thought he–”

“You thought he gave a fuck about me.”

“He does,” Bradley says, stressing his words in an attempt to reassure you. “He never shuts up about you.”

“Sure,” you say. “He gives so much of a fuck that he forgot about me to be with his ex. How can you explain that?”

Rooster sighs. His hands slip into his jeans pockets just to have something to do with them. “I can’t.”

“Exactly.” 

No one can explain it. Not you, not Bradley, not Jake. Everyone you know back home would be telling you to run for the hills right now. They were already wary of this ‘Navy guy’ that they’d only met twice around the holidays, who lives a decent distance away from your entire life and who constantly requests that you be the one to hop on a plane rather than the other way around. 

For the duration of your time together, you’ve been understanding of that sacrifice. You know his schedule doesn’t allow impromptu trips out of state, but that hasn’t made it any less exhausting for you. And maybe that’s a sign. Another sign. A nail in the coffin. Maybe you and Jake aren’t meant to be. And why would you be? You met him on a brief vacation to visit a friend who doesn’t even live in the same town anymore, and somehow, during those few days, he convinced you to take a chance on him. So you took the leap. But being that bold doesn’t guarantee you won’t fall flat on your face, and you think that’s exactly what’s happening. You’ve tripped over a guy only to realize he doesn’t care about you to the same degree that you care about him. 

However, you’re not the type to avoid confrontation. If Jake Seresin is going to mistreat you because of his ex, then he is going to do it to your face. He’s going to look you in the eye when he shows himself to be the liar he is. It may hurt more to go to him rather than get on the next plane home without so much as taking in a breath of fresh Californian air, but you’re too upset to let that thought fully develop, and a moment later, Rooster is following your stomps out the door. 

—

You find him at the Hard Deck, standing at a hightop with a beer glass in his hand that clinks against the one in his ex’s before he takes a sip. Bradley’s comforting hand lands on your back in solidarity. You only met him because of Jake, but the two of you bonded despite their differences, and having him by your side now makes him nothing short of a life-saver. 

He helps guide you through the crowd to the table, and when Jake spots you, he chokes around the liquid going down his throat. His blown-out emerald eyes rival saucers and his mouth gapes like a fish, but then his stare flicks to Bradley, and those eyes shrink into narrow slits. His face heats to a boiling red. 

“What the fuck!” Jake snaps, shocking the composure right out of his ex’s poised stance. Bar patrons close by turn their heads but quickly return to their own conversations. Jake steps away from the table, coming to a halt in front of you and his squadmate. “What the hell is this?”

You figured he’d be bothered if you showed up with Bradley in tow. And good, that’s what you feel he deserves. Jake’s been wary of the other Dagger’s closeness to you for a while, and even though you know—as does Bradley—that it’s an asinine concern, you have no problem using it against him now. But still, the intensity of his reaction manages to surprise you. You didn’t think he would be this angered by the sight of you with another man that it would have him overlooking his mistake of forgetting you.

Your arms cross. “This is your girlfriend and the guy who saved her when her damn boyfriend left her stranded at the airport.”

“Excuse me?”

Jake’s ex’s prying gaze tugs at your attention, but when you glance over his shoulder to catch her in the act, she quickly looks away—just more proof that whatever the fuck she’s doing with your boyfriend is something to be ashamed of. 

Bradley’s saying something. You can’t quite hear him over the anger-induced fuzzing in your ears, but you’re pretty sure it’s a scolding based on the twisting of Jake’s features as he shoots back his own words of aggression. And then your hand is in his and you’re being pulled through the bar, out the back door, and onto the deck where the only intrusive sound is the lapping of waves on the shore. 

“Why are you here?” he asks. 

You scoff to mask the heartbreak that comes with that question. “Because you asked me to be here.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?”

“It’s Wednesday,” he says. 

“It’s Thursday, Jake.”

“No, it’s—” he freezes, and you don’t know if he’s tipsy or stupid, but it takes him a minute to come to the same conclusion: it is indeed Thursday. “Fuck,” he mutters.

Your lower back meets the edge of the railing, and you sigh, thankfully keeping in the tears. “What are you doing with her?”

“What the fuck are you doing with Rooster?” he returns much more forcefully. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I called, I texted, I left voicemails,” you tell him, “But clearly, she was more important.”

Jake’s hands pat down his pockets, mouth setting in a frown when he can’t find his phone.

“Don’t bother. Phone or no phone, you forgot about me because of her. Last time I was here, you were late for one of our dates because of her. You spent fifty percent of our time together stepping away to take her phone calls,” you say, trying and failing to avoid the bitter taste on your tongue. “Just fuck her, Jake, if you haven’t already. I only came here to tell you that she can have you.”

You’ve never seen him fall apart the way he does. You’ve never seen the blood drain from his cocky face. You’ve never seen his features break and crack and contort into the vision of pure devastation as they do. His parted mouth must’ve gone dry because his next words come out slightly hoarse.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, but it’s more of a plea than anything. “Why…Why would you–” He swallows. A wrinkle forms between his brows and he shakes his head. “You love me. You didn’t mean to say that.”

You do love him—terribly so—but you’re willing to be one of those people who won’t view love as enough if it also means laying you out as a fool. “Jake–”

“Take it back,” he says. His steps are quick, and then you’re trapped where you stand, his hands on either side of your body, gripping the rail. Eyes drill into yours, and for a second, you feel a pang of guilt. “Please, baby, take it back. She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“And I mean less.”

“No!” he says. “That’s not true. You’re everything, ok? You mean everything to me. She was just helping me, that’s all.”

“Helping you,” you mimic with a roll of your eyes. “Helping you what? Get off?”

With a little whine, Jake’s head drops between his shoulders, his blond hair brushing your collarbone. “Please. Please quit saying things like that.” His hands slide closer to your body and land on your hips. You don’t push him away—you can't—and his touch softens you ever so slightly.

“Then tell me the truth,” you say. “Right now. I’m giving you one shot.”

His head snaps up. His eyes flick back and forth between yours, ironically searching for your honesty, as if you’re the liar on trial here. 

“It was a surprise,” he tells you. “She’s a realtor now, and for the last few months she’s been helping me find a new place, one that’s bigger than what I’ve got because I was going to ask you to move in with me.” Your heartbeat stutters. A layer of goosebumps coats your arms. When you don’t respond, he continues, “I hate missing you. I hate how unfair it is that you’re always the one to come here because I can’t fly out at the drop of a hat. I know it’s a big step, but I figured if I had a place, I could show you how great things could be. That’s why she and I came here. We were celebrating because I’m signing on a house first thing tomorrow,” he says. “Well, that’s why I’m celebrating, anyway. She’s probably celebrating because she just made a decent commission.”

It’s almost unfair how that new information doesn’t make you feel any less of a fool. Had he told you that under any other circumstances, you’d be leaping into his arms, kissing him like you’ve been deprived of him for years, repeating ‘yes’ over and over between those kisses, but you can’t. You can’t because his explanation doesn’t fix everything. 

“That still doesn’t change that it’s Thursday, not Wednesday,” you say.

“I know, baby. That’s my fault. I was so excited, and I was thinking how perfect the timing was that I would be able to pick you up tomorrow and drive you by the house now that it’s officially mine, but I fucked it up.”

Jake’s thumbs press into your hips, and you’re instantly reminded of each moment in your relationship when you’ve felt that same light pressure on your skin. A gentle claiming. The same pressure you felt when you agreed to be his girlfriend. The same pressure you feel whenever you’re in bed together. 

You sense eyes on you other than your boyfriend’s, and when you turn your head, you find his ex staring right at you, an expression on her face that you wish you could say wasn’t one of distress, but it is. And worse, it’s obviously not distress for herself, but for Jake, as if she’s hoping she wasn’t just a contributor to a bomb dropping on his life. 

Jake’s busy staring at you despite your averted gaze, and in a monotone voice, you say, “She feels bad.”

He doesn’t follow your eyes. “Because she knows I’ve been doing this all for you.”

You blink. Your hand runs down your face before sifting through the strands of your hair. “You really want me to live with you?”

“Of course I do,” he tells you. He’s shaking his head, but you know it’s because he thinks any idea that he wouldn’t want you to be blasphemous. His hand cups your chin. “I love you.”

With a sigh, you push aside the rollercoaster of emotions, the misunderstandings that lead to frustration and hurt, and look him directly in the eye. And where moments ago you thought you saw lies, you see honestly. Where you thought you saw betrayal, you see love. 

“Can I see it?”

—

It’s small—a two-bedroom with a little driveway, the shingle siding painted a blue-gray shade that is more blue than gray; bundles of flowers bloom in the boxes under the windows; a bay window protrudes from the side of the structure facing the beach. And it’s perfect.

You can imagine building a life here. You can picture a dog that you’ll have to build a fence for and children years later that will have you reinforcing the fence because they’ll probably be like their father, and Jake didn’t choose to be a pilot because of his lack of adventurous nature. You look at this house and you can see the core of a family. A house that, no matter how far you go for Jake’s job, will always be home base.

Jake is leaning around you so you can both watch the house from the passenger seat window. “I’d offer to show you around, but I don’t get the keys until morning.”

“It’s ok,” you tell him. “I don’t need to see inside.”

When you say that, he falls back into his seat. The back of his head presses against the headrest. His fingers squeeze the steering wheel with his sigh of defeat. “You don’t like it.”

Shifting your body to face him, you say, “Jake, I love it.”

Just like that, his eyes brighten like a pouting child who was just offered a lollipop, and you can’t help but chuckle. You can’t help but forget everything that happened earlier in the night, all of it seeming so insignificant now, even though you know it’s not, and you both know that if he ever makes the same mistake again, he’ll have hell to pay. But something tells you that won’t be a problem. 

“Enough to live with me?” he asks.

You nod. “Enough to live with you.”

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Comments make my entire world, so if you liked it, let me know? Thanks :)

[gloomwitchwrites]

secret baby trope with tf141? 😌😌

Anon! OH. MY. GOOOOOD. I love this. I love this. I love this. Secret baby? Yes, please. I adore this trope. I bow down to you for requesting this. I don't know who you are but I wish that I did. I can absolutely get behind a secret baby trope. I actually read a book recently that was a bit like that and I enjoyed it so so much.

I had an absolute blast putting this one together. Seriously. You totally indulged me here. Thank you!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, stalking, possessive behavior, second chances, pregnancy / unplanned pregnancy, parenthood, reunions, light angst

Word Count: 2.3k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle relaxes further into the couch. The air around him is slightly smoky.

He brings his vape to his lips and takes a hit. The action is calming, and that’s exactly what he wants. Kyle is rotting, and it feels fucking good.

Between missions, Kyle is always somewhere, but right not there is no reason for him to do anything. He can relax. He can watch reality television, eat himself to sickness, and wank off until his wrist hurts.

It’s bloody fucking brilliant.

Kyle isn’t attached. He has no kids. The only responsibility required of him is the one he has to himself. Which is why he’s splayed out on the couch in nothing but grey sweatpants and his vape. The television is on, and the volume is low. It’s mostly for background noise. Kyle isn’t really paying attention to it.

With a vape in one hand and his phone in the other, Kyle scrolls through his contacts. There are all the usual people there, but there are also a slew of general acquaintances and a long list of people he’s had it off with but never took anything further.

He pauses at one name, and old memories resurface.

They just happen upon him. Kyle doesn’t drag them up from the depths. They linger there, and Kyle remembers all the fun he had with you.

You were just a small fling. A few lengthy but deliciously good fucks that tops most of the sex he’s ever had in his life. There have been times since he last saw you—over a year now—that Kyle has thought about what could have been.

You were sweet. A potential partner. But Kyle didn’t follow through. He would regret it, but things can’t be taken back. There is no turning back the clock to change what has already occurred.

Kyle’s thumb hovers above the screen.

He shouldn’t. He really fucking shouldn’t.

But he does. Because why not?

Switching over apps, Kyle starts scrolling social media. He doesn’t usually give a shit about what’s happening in people’s lives, but he is curious about you. What are you up to? What are you doing? If you’re not attached, maybe he could call you up, rekindle what was once there.

You don’t have him blocked on anything—thank fuck—and Kyle delves into your socials, exploring your life. At first, the small infant in your arms is nothing to him, but then the tiny human keeps reappearing, and Kyle pauses.

Kyle scrolls a bit more. And stops.

Just three—no—four months ago, there are a slew of friends and family congratulating you on the birth of your son.

Your…son.

Kyle thinks back. Does the math in his head.

“Fuck,” he mutters, sitting up, gaze glued on the screen.

He scrolls back, studying every photo where your son is featured. Kyle’s heart slams in his chest. The features Kyle sees are features he sees every time he looks in the mirror.

“Fucking hell,” groans Kyle, the phone nearly slipping from his hands as he slumps back against the couch.

Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you contact him?

The very thought of you not reaching out doesn’t sit well with him. It sits heavy in his stomach.

“Fuck,” says Kyle, switching over to his contacts.

He finds Simon’s number and taps the call button.

It rings on the other end, and Kyle doesn’t think that he’ll answer. But he does.

“Kyle,” comes Simon’s gruff voice.

Kyle sighs. “I need you to track someone down for me.”

John Price

John doesn’t like cutting off contact with people.

He likes to keep in touch, even if it’s just an acquaintance. But things happen, like a fucked phone with no way to retrieve contacts, and the only people he’s able to retrieve are those he sees on a regular basis.

Your number is gone. And John has no way to get it back.

Legally that is. He could try and find you in the system. What information he has is minimal, but then again, the two of you only had a one-night stand. He’s prone to it since he’s never in one place. Always moving around.

John would like to settle down one day, but his work is his life, and it just doesn’t seem possible to have a family and be consistent with them when he’s constantly called away.

He chews it over while sitting in his office. It’s late, and there isn’t anyone else here but him. Late nights like this are calming to him—a time to process away from the events of the day. John has your first name, where you might live, and a general idea of what your number is. But he isn’t certain, and it’s hardly enough to go on.

Sighing, deciding he’d rather find you than not, John turns on his computer. It takes a while to get the classified systems he has access to. No one tracks what he does on here, and no one will think twice if they do happen to look. John runs lots of names and faces through this system.

John waits. Ponders. Enters in different spellings and every possible clue to try and seek you out. With every new search, John begins to lose hope. He might be completely fucked. Completely at a loss.

If this doesn’t work, he might not ever see you again. And for some goddamn reason, that bothers him.

He tries one last time, expecting nothing, only for his heart to drop into his stomach,

“There you are,” he murmurs, leaning forward, gaze sweeping over your passport photo.

Grabbing a piece of paper, John jots down your phone number and current address. He also notes your top place of employment. You might not be there anymore, but that isn’t an issue. He has enough.

John shuts off his computer and grabs his coat. He’ll try to reach out first by phone and go from there.

“You have the wrong number, bud.”

The man’s southern drawl irks John. “You sure?”

“Yeah I’m fucking sure. Quit calling.”

John frowns as the line goes dead. The number on file isn’t recent.

“Fuck,” mutters John, running his hand through his hair.

This is getting him nowhere. The only other option is showing up at your home or place of employment, but he can’t do that unless he’s on scheduled leave. That’s months away.

And each month is fucking agony.

When John finally makes it to your front door, nervousness sets in. This is completely fucking weird. Who the fuck shows up at someone’s door months after a one-night stand? Him apparently.

But fuck it. He’s here.

Either he does this and things go great, or things go to shit and he doesn’t need to worry about it anymore.

John takes a deep breath, and then pounds on the door. He takes a step back, hands in his pockets as he waits. There is a stretch of silence, and then he hears it—the turn of a deadbolt.

The door swings open, and there you are, just as beautiful from when he first saw you. At first, your brow scrunches in confusion, and then your eyes widen.

“John,” you breathe.

He smiles, and then his gaze drops as your hand moves away from the doorknob to land on your stomach. Your belly is round. Protruding. You’re—oh shit.

“Is that—”

“Yours?”

Fuck.

John glances up into your eyes and swallows.

You shift on your feet, one hand resting against the doorframe.

“It is,” you confirm.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon shouldn’t. Really—it’s fucked up. Wrong.

But he does it anyway because there is no fucking way he’s letting you go even if he has to watch from afar.

He’s done a lot of things he isn’t proud of, and losing you is near the top of the list. Not that he blames you for breaking it off. You had every right. Simon is always gone. Always away. And he rarely thought of you when he came home.

Communication can be a difficult thing for him. He knows this, and yet he couldn’t make an effort to do better with you. It wounds him. It does. Like a sharp blade to the gut.

But that is secondary now. Simon has dismissed it.

Sure, you’re not truly his now, but you’ll come back to him. He’ll make sure of it.

In the dark, Simon watches. Before him is a slew of screens and all of them show different angles of your home. Simon also has your phone tapped, and in another window, he can lurk through your messages and emails.

It’s where he first learned you were pregnant.

You know, and haven’t told him. Haven’t reached out in the slightest. Simon has to see all the results and tests come back via your email. He has to log into your medical portal to access specific things which is goddamn frustrating but he needs to know.

You are fucking pregnant. With his child.

It’s growing in your belly.

Even through the camera feed, Simon can see the swell of your stomach. He wants to be there, to stand beside you, and rest his hand against it. He wants to feel his son kick. Because you are carrying his son in your belly. Simon saw the results.

It’s fucking painful watching you like this.

He’s stayed away for a bit. Not engaging.

But you’ve broken it off before, and came back eventually.

Simon just needs an in again. All he has to do is figure it out, and then he can put away these fucking screens and surveillance. He can be by your side and be there when you give birth.

Leaning back in his chair, Simon observes every screen, his palm rubbing against his thigh as he considered his options.

He has to play this right.

He has to.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Do you think you’ll ever find your woman again?”

Johnny grins behind his pint glass. “If she’s here,” he replies.

The beer is perfectly cold and goes down easily. It’s refreshing since it’s so bloody hot outside.

Johnny didn’t think he’d ever come back to the little seaside town. He came between missions—a way to relax and get away for a bit. With only a few hundred residents, it seemed like the perfect place. What he didn’t expect was to meet a woman that upended his fatigue and made him glow a little brighter.

He learned your name while exploring a local pub. You were a pretty thing. Caught Johnny’s eye immediately. With several beers fueling him, Johnny struck up a conversation, and you were receptive to his charm—melting like butter over fresh toast.

That evening, the two of you jumped from pub to pub, having a bloody good time. It was fucking magical. Afterward, the two of you ventured back to Johnny’s hotel room. But the two of you didn’t have sex. It wasn’t until the next morning that Johnny actually fucked you.

Johnny had presented himself, you slid right into his arms. The hotel bed was well-used. There wasn’t a moment after that Johnny didn’t have his dick inside you. He kept you full and screaming his name for an entire fucking week.

But when that week was up, the two of you parted ways. You gave Johnny your number, and for a couple months, you were consistent in your texts and phone calls. Then it all changed, and you began to contact him less frequently.

Eventually, you didn’t talk to Johnny at all.

He was hurt at first. He tried to reach out. But Johnny didn’t hear a thing—and he left you to it. Maybe someone else arrived into your life. Johnny can respect that even if he doesn’t exactly like it.

It sucked then. And it still pains him a bit now. Johnny liked you when you left—and if he’s being entirely honest with himself—he still fucking likes you.

Maybe you’ll be here. Maybe you won’t.

Kyle is with him this time. A guy’s trip. Price isn’t one for vacations, and Simon has his own shit going on.

“We could try that pub again,” suggests Kyle. “See if she’s there.”

Johnny shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Did she live here?” asks Kyle.

Johnny nods. “Aye. Sure did.”

Kyle bobs his head. “We’ll find her.”

The two of them sit outside a small pub. The air is laced with salt from the ocean, and the sun is out, shining bright. It’s hot, but it’s a beautiful fucking day.

Johnny hums in agreement, bringing his pint glass back to his lips. For a moment, Johnny glances away from Kyle, looking out across the road where people walk along the pavement. He frowns.

Is that?

No. Can’t be.

His focus becomes a tunnel, and all he can see is the woman across the road. It’s you. There is no doubt. He knows that body, that hair and smile. You haven’t changed all that much. Not really.

There is another woman with you—a friend that Johnny met briefly before you and him went off on your own.

But that isn’t what has Johnny’s attention.

You’ve turned, and Johnny can see a swell to your stomach. Your hand cradles it affectionately.

“What is it?” asks Kyle, but his voice is distant.

“That’s her,” murmurs Johnny, his pint glass lowering back to the table.

You don’t see him. You’re chatting with your friend, features animated. The curve in your stomach is fairly large, and a deep twisting in his stomach arises, moving toward his throat.

“Oh fuck,” says Johnny as Kyle shifts to look in the direction Johnny is staring.

“Is that?”

“It fucking is.”

“She’s fucking pregnant.”

Johnny swallows. “Aye.”

He doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s likely the fucking truth. The baby is probably his. No wonder you stopped talking to him. Maybe you thought it best to cut off contact when you found out.

But that doesn’t sit right with him either. If you had told him, Johnny could have been there for you sooner—not finding out like this.

You throw your head back and laugh, playfully hitting your friend’s arm as she says something funny. When you wipe at your face, clearing tears, your gaze shifts, and all the humor leaves your face.

You’re staring right at Johnny.

And he’s staring back.

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[julietsbody]

innocence — modern ! coriolanus snow + reader : your friends ask you to get some drugs from the local dealer, but you never expect he would take a liking to you.

tags : 18+!!! MDNI!!! drug dealing ! coryo, drugs, praise kink, overprotective behavior, possessive behavior, porn with feelings, p in v sex, fingering, special treatment

coriolanus snow hated parties, they were loud, and the people were insufferable— but he needed the money from the things he sold. cocaine, weed, even some ecstasy. whatever the people wanted, whatever helped support his grandmother and cousin. they weren’t living in the most luxury like all the other people who held parties in these neighborhoods, so that’s why coriolanus attended them, they always paid the most.

he typically got douchebags or stuck - up pretty girls, they both always paid him in crumpled up ones that he took forever to straighten out and count— what a bunch of assholes.

what he never expected, though, was you, coming up to the man dressed in a korn shirt and baggy jeans with a bow in your hair as well as wearing a pretty dress. your doe eyes peered up at him when you tapped his shoulder, he turned, eyes slotting down to meet yours, “hey.”

“hi,” you hesitate, cute, “i.. do you sell drugs?”

he clears his throat, “sorry?”

“do you—“

“probably shouldn’t repeat yourself, doll,” he tips his head up, “i do, are you buying?“

“just for my friends, yeah,” you smile shyly at him, and he returns it.

you’re so innocent, had you ever done any drugs before? definitely not the ones he sells, maybe the weed, but cocaine or ecstasy? no, no way. if it were for you, he wouldn’t be selling you it anyway. coriolanus had a certain soft spot, if you will, for the innocent girls that wander up to him at parties with their batting eyelashes and naturally pouted lips.

“alright, let’s go upstairs,” he tips his head to the stairs, chuckling when you move to give a thumbs up to your friends before following after him, “why do they make you ask for them?”

he suddenly moves back to grab your wrist when the halls find themselves crowded, not wanting to lose you in the sea of people, nor you lose him. you were a client, a customer, and he always treats his customer this way.

loud incorrect buzzer.

he doesn’t!

coriolanus never dares to allow himself to sweeten up around his customers, or anyone, but something about your shy, deer like attitude— it had a wolf wanting to protect.

“they say they’re too nervous to do it themselves,” you finally answer when he leads you into the nearest empty room, closing the door behind you.

he finally lets go of your wrist, “that so? what are they askin’ for?”

“cocaine,” you swallow.

“then they’re not nervous,” he chuckles, having to deal with his fair share of cocaine users, none of them are nervous to approach him, “why do you let them push you around?”

he moves to sit on the bed, chopping up the cocaine from his pocket on the nightstand next to him. he typically doesn’t like when his customers stand over him, because he never knows what they will do, and he likes to be in control at all times— but you’re harmless, aren’t you? just a little deer.

you exhale a nervous laugh, “they’re not pushing me around, they’re just asking me for favors.”

he hums, eyes peering up at you as his hands absentmindedly work on the pearl powder, it was muscle memory for him at this point. “you promise you’re not doing this shit, too?”

“i promise,” your lips tip up to a curt smile, “it’s really.. scary, honestly.”

he exhales, eyes trailing over the curves of your face before they meet the nightstand again, swiping the powdered sugar like substance into a little baggie. you watch him, almost admiring, “yeah. it is really scary, dangerous, too— don’t want you doin’ this shit too.”

a warm feeling courses through your veins, you hardly realize he’s holding the baggies out for you until he clears his throat, you blink a few times, quickly trying to grasp the money you had— it wasn’t given to you by your friends to spend for them, it was just your own money. how cruel.

“it’s on the house,” he quickly says, almost unaware of what he was saying himself until it finally passes his lips.

you bat your lashes at him, “what—“

“free, doll, just take it,” he allows himself a faint smile.

you hesitantly reach to take the baggies, “are you sure…?”

he nods, “‘m positive.”

“thank you, snow,” his eyebrows furrow at how sweet his name sounds on your tongue, like nectar delivered by the kindest dove from the gods.

you turn to leave, but he quickly stands, “hey—“ he pauses, eyes sweeping over your figure as he tries to figure out what to say, you probably go to millions of parties with your asshole friends, possibly with other dealers.. “some other dealers are gonna try to rip you off, make you pay a lot for a little bit— so just, come to me and i’ll treat you good as long as you’re staying out of trouble, princess.”

“okay, i will,” you nod quickly.

“good girl.”

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

you don’t see coriolanus for a while after that night, it has been no more than a few days, less than a week but the idea of you is rotting in his brain and eating him whole from the inside out. at every party he went to, every girl with a bow in their hair (he despises that it’s the latest trend) or wearing a baby pink dress reminds him of you. with their fluttering lashes and soft smiles, god, he hates that he sees you in every one of them. he hates that you have completely plagued his entire conscience, but yet he never complains about it, not once.

sometimes, sejanus, one of the other known dealers, though he more so considers himself a look - out when coriolanus is selling, or a promoter for coriolanus’ business— he notices how coriolanus’ eyes linger more than usual on the women at parties, it almost makes him laugh, or tease coriolanus.

isn’t he supposed to be intimidating? not a man easily falling for women.

a lover boy, that’s what he seemed like now.

sejanus swishes around his drink in his cup, eyes falling to coriolanus, “what’s up with you?”

coriolanus blinks once, twice, “what are you talking about?”

“you haven’t blinked in like an hour,” sejanus liked to overexaggerate, “are you okay?”

“of course i am,” he scoffs, “‘m gonna find arachne.”

arachne, sejanus’ best friend, albeit she talks so much shit about him behind his back. sejanus is sweet, passive, and arachne is the complete opposite. some would call arachne a maneater, coriolanus thinks of her as a conceited bitch who needs to be put on a leash. she had a tendency to run off whenever she went to parties with coriolanus and sejanus, so coriolanus always had to run after her to try and find her.

sejanus nods, offering a small i’ll look too.

coriolanus allows sejanus to walk the opposite way as he turns the corner, eyes scanning each room for a brunette with a bold red lip. he doesn’t find her anywhere, god, she better not be having sex in one of the rooms upstairs like how she was last time. coriolanus likes to think opening that door to that sight was something out of a horror movie.

he does find a different brunette, though, with more golden tones and curlier hair.

festus creed, of fucking course creed is here. he was another one of the other well known dealers in the area. he wasn’t that well with his sells, mostly because he acts like he’s above everyone else in the worst way possible, and even allows people to pay with sex.

coriolanus heard his sex is never good.

funny, isn’t it? how someone with a small dick and hardly any skills on pleasing women would offer sex as payment.

coriolanus, at least, thinks it’s hilarious.

what he doesn’t think is hilarious, though, is that festus is talking to someone coriolanus is far too familiar with. glittery eye makeup, a lacy bow in their hair, baby pink dress.. it’s you.

coriolanus’ mouth runs dry when you spot him in the corner of your eye, your lips twisting into a sugar - coated grin as soon as your eyes widen, “snow!”

you immediately move to give him a hug, festus’ searing gaze following your every movement in the creepiest way possible— god, coriolanus hates him. his fingers lace around your waist, tugging you close, “hey, princess.”

“princess?” festus snickers.

coriolanus tries to ignore him, but he finds it near impossible with the words that leave your lips next, “this is festus, my friend, do you know him?”

coriolanus scoffs, does he know him, what a joke, “i know of him.”

festus finds himself chuckling bitterly, “is that right, pretty boy?”

coriolanus takes a step, and you feel a certain mold of metal against your waist when he does, a gun, his cold lips part, “sure is.”

your eyes roam over his features, the curves of his skin when his brows collide, the way his eyes darken with malice, the grit of his sharp teeth, the flush of his jaw against his flesh as he moves it. his muscles flex underneath his baggy band t - shirt, veins pulsing. he was angry.

festus’ lips part, but you speak before him, “snow?”

his head nods in your direction, but he doesn’t say anything.

“answer your girl, snow,” festus taunts.

“go upstairs,” he mumbles, it’s to you.

so you do.

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

coriolanus sighs when he closes the door behind him, coming in mere minutes later. you had been sitting on the bed in the vacant room, fingers playing together, eyes glossed over in fear and pricking with tears. coriolanus wasn’t the only one who carried, but you didn’t hear any shots, fortunately.

“kid’s such a fuckin’ asshole,” he mumbles, cracking his bruising knuckles, “he’s not sellin’ you shit, is he?”

“sometimes—“

“don’t buy from him anymore,” coriolanus pauses, swallowing, “he laces his shit sometimes.”

it was true, festus was messy with his work, he didn’t lace the products himself but the people that distributed them to him would, he was just too lazy to even notice.

“i’m sorry,” it comes out hushed, a mere whisper, but coriolanus’ ears pick up on it easily.

his tone is softer now, “why?”

“i didn’t know—“

“then don’t apologize,” his head tips to the side, sniffling the bubbling blood in his nose, he inhales, pupils wide as they roam your features. a glass tear raced down your pliant cheek, and he immediately moved to carefully wipe it away, “don’t cry, doll.”

you don’t say anything, merely melt into his touch. coriolanus isn’t good with affection, he’s hardly had any girlfriend before and if he has, they don’t last long due to his struggles with showing kindness. so it’s obvious the next word that leaves his mouth isn’t one born from honeysuckle, “cocaine?”

your lips move nervously, bottom lip tugging under your teeth as your mascara covered lashes move to his frost - bitten eyes, “do you have.. ecstasy?”

his lips drop to a frown, “why?”

your lips tremble when they part, cheeks heating under his touch, “my friends want to try it.”

“no,” he swallows, jaw ticking, “i’m not selling you that shit.”

“what? why not?”

“that shit is too dangerous,” he chuckles, albeit it’s bitterness, “i don’t want you around that, it’s trouble.”

“i’ve been good,” you reassure, hips swaying when you scoot closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him.

“have you, now?” his thumb is gently rubbing against your skin.

“i have, i promise,” you offer, feeling his fingers move so his thumb is now moving against your bottom lip, dipping into your mouth ever so slightly.

you smile around it and his pupils dilate even more, are his eyes blue anymore or merely just sole pupil? “naughty girl.”

then he stops, as if he had realized something, and pulled away. your lips curve downward to a frown, desperate to have his touch again, “snow?”

“don’t,” his molars collide, “i’ll hurt you.”

“that’s okay—“

“—i’m bad news—“

“—i don’t think that—“

“—i’m dangerous, doll.”

you hesitate, inhaling sharply, “but you won’t hurt me.”

he doesn’t say anything for a minute, “so, you want cocaine?”

you give him a careful nod, and he smiles. again, he’s being sweet.

“you know how to chop up cocaine?”

you allow yourself a giggle, “you know i don’t.”

“i’ll show you.”

and he does, his hand is gentle as it guides yours, fingers curling against the curve of your own as he crushes up the cocaine, guiding you to chop it up with the card he gave you. you’re warm underneath his cold touch, his movements experienced whilst yours are new. “how many times have you done this?”

he shrugs, breath fresh against the shell of your ear, “a couple hundred, for sure.”

“i could help you, you know, with the business,” you offer, despite not even really wanting to.

“no,” his fingers are tighter against your skin, but not enough to hurt, “i don’t want you in this business, you being around me is dangerous enough.”

“you’re not dangerous, snow,” you hush out.

he moves closer, and you feel his gun brush against your ass, lips curving into a smile, “you think so?”

you shiver from the touch, it’s loaded, the safety is probably off, “i know so.”

your thighs push together, he feels it, making him chuckle, “you’re so needy, princess.”

“snow,” you breathe out, “this isn’t fair.”

“how so?” he presses a soft kiss behind your ear, “just because you aren’t getting what you want?”

“do you want it?” you pause your movements.

“of course i do, i want it as much as you,” he moves your fingers so you drop the card, guiding them to his bulge, “‘m just not spoiled.”

you frown at his works, fingers curving around his bulge, god, how big was he? “‘m not spoiled either.”

“whatever you say, princess,” he grits out.

you palm him so well, it nearly has him rutting against your hand, breathing getting heavier against your ear. his fingers move to trail down down your back, dipping underneath the hem of your skirt and tracing along the thin material of your lace panties. his jaw shifts, “such a dirty girl, wearing these panties.”

you whimper when his fingers graze along the soaked part of your panties, thick fingers brushing against your clothed clit, “please— snow.”

“please what, princess?” you mumble something in response, but it’s nearly incoherent, more of a whimper, “use your words.”

he moves to pull your panties to the side, now touching your bare clit, making your thighs tremble, “i need— fuck, i need you— inside.”

he nods, pressing kisses along the side of your neck, finding himself already pussy - drunk. it almost felt sacrificial, a sinful man dipping his fingers inside of a goddess, the way you moaned at the feeling of his finger stretching you out— it was as if he could be confessing of his sins at any minute.

to see your hips bucking against his finger, his name hushed on the tip of your delicate tongue. didn’t you know that many people wanted him dead? how many people hated him? how the police could arrest him at any second? yet you didn’t care, a lamb to the slaughter, a deer in between the jaws of a wolf.

yet you were rutting against his hand, begging for more, desiring him to push another finger in— and he did exactly that, prepping your tight cunt for his cock, “you’re so fuckin’ tight, doll, i don’t know if it’ll fit.”

“it will— it will, i know it will—,” you’re just babbling nonsense at this point, and coriolanus wanted to be gentle, he really did, but your sweet moans, your sugary whimpers, the way he so easily pushed his fingers inside of you, the way that when you curl, your moans up a few octaves. you were so sensitive, god, were you a virgin?

the thought had coriolanus pulling his fingers out, twirling you around so he can push his fingers into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself as his other hand undoes the belt holding his baggy jeans up. his eyes are crystalizing the memory of your tongue swirling against his fingers, sucking up every taste of your own cunt— have you thought of this as many times as he has?

he moves his hand to take his gun before it falls, placing it on the counter behind you, his fingers move from your mouth to help him push his jeans down, your lips part, “why do you have a gun?”

he smiles sweetly at your words, nearly chuckling, “why do you think?”

“‘m not sure, that’s why i asked,” you had a certain tinge in your voice that makes him quirk a brow.

“it’s to protect myself, princess,” he pushes his boxers down, finally freeing his cock, “now be a good girl, turn around, and bend over.”

of course you do exactly what he asks, bending over the counter so he can push your skirt up. the feeling of your innocence being stripped away right in front of you was far too good, like a cross ripped from the chain around your neck, or your holy water being unpurified. you were a cupcake with frosting on top, and coriolanus was sinking his teeth into you, rotting his sweet tooth.

his dick slaps against your heat when your legs part with desire, making you whine against nothing, “snow— please..”

“just say it, princess,” he moves to rub his red tip against your clit, making you shudder, knees buckling already.

“fuck me— f..fuck me,” you repeatedly beg.

he moves closer to press a sweet kiss on the back of your neck, bones colliding when his cock finally pushes into your cunt. you were so tight around him, squeezing him around your velvet walls. your jaw falls slack when you gasp at the feeling of him stretching you out, his lips pull tight together in a grunt, “so tight for me, princess— jesus christ..”

his breathing is labored when he pulls his hips back and thrusts in, he goes slow at first, treating you like you were a fragile statue made from porcelain, but then you’re begging him to go faster, to go harder. your fingers graze along the gun placed on the counter, right next to the cocaine. his tongue swipes along the roof of his mouth before he speaks, “are you sure, doll? i don’t— fuck— want to hurt you.”

“h-hurt me, it’s okay,” you mumble out, and he truly does hesitate for a second, then his thrusts are suddenly faster, bumping you into the counter with the sheer snap of his hips. your cries sound like noises formed from a blessed harp, passed down by the gods for him to listen to, each moan getting louder and louder until his ears are ringing, until the music sounds hushed compared to your screams.

it’s so obscene, all of the things that he finds himself spitting out as he harshly bucks into you. so cute, jus’ wanna ruin you, takin’ my cock so well, that feel good princess? he can’t help the way his hands snake up to your hair, tugging at the pretty bow wrapped around it, earning a frosted moan from your glossed lips.

it’s not long until you’re cuming on his cock, with him pulling out to twirl you around and push you to your knees, allowing you to jerk him off until thick white stripes are decorating your face. the white glitter, the sweet scent of your lip - gloss, now accompanied by his cum.

how cute.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” he mumbles as he tucks his dick back in his boxers, pulling his jeans back up when your painted nails move to wipe away the cum on your face, lapping it up with your pretty tongue.

you giggle sweetly, “do you do this with all your customers?”

he shakes his head, “no, doll, you’re special, you know that.”

and it’s true, you really were special.

you were a dangerous man’s doll.

[portgasdwrld]

☆ naked in bed.

•°. *࿐what are their reaction when they see your naked body waiting for them under the sheets?

•°. *࿐NSFW, featuring : Law, Shanks, Zoro

Law

It was a long day, and he wanted nothing more but to rest in his bed and relax

You had other plans

You have been craving for his touch for such a while but never found the perfect moment to make a move

So you thought about doing something simple but clear: sleeping naked

You giggle to yourself when you hear your boyfriend slide open the door from the bathroom.

You stare at him shamelessly full with need and lust

Only his hips were wrapped around a way too colourful towel for him (you insisted to buy it for souvenir at an island) the water from his wet dark hair was slightly dripping down his toned back. You watched his beautiful tattooed body move as he was searching for his clothes, his tooth brush in his mouth.

You wanted to jump on him

He still hasn’t noticed your little stunt and you don’t believe he will until he gets into the bed

Law finally heads back into the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth and change into fresh clothes

As he gets out, his eyes connect with yours immediately. Your gaze barely left his silhouette and he has been quite aware of it.

He smiles as he approaches the bed and he quickly kisses the top of your head. He moves the sheets a little to get into them, until he stops and look at you.

“What-…”

“What’s wrong?” You ask him with a smirk as you wrap your arm around his waist. Your chest pressed against his tank top. Law smiles

“You never really let me rest, you know that?”

“It’s just another way to relax” you say to him as you feel his cold fingers brush against your skin. His lips press against yours and with his other hand, he cups your breast.

“If you say so..” he whispers back before diving back into another passionated kiss.

Shanks

Your lips were hungrily attached to his as you two were caught in an intense making out session

It basically started off by some flirty comments from both side, a little kiss on the neck by Shanks and boom..

You found yourself hovering over Shank on the bed, desperately trying to get his clothes off

Then suddenly you got interrupted by a knock on the door, claiming they needed the captain for something

You two sighed frustrated and you got off your man and watched him leave horny and disappointed.

“I will be right back ok?” He reassured you with his familiar smile before closing the door behind him

You wanted to waste no time, so you took your clothes off, ready to just get right into it

As Shank opened the door again, his eyes fell on your naked upper body , leaving him confused at first, but it was soon replaced with a mischievous smirk

“So eager, are we darling?”

His mouth closed around one of your nipples , bringing a moan out instantly out of you

“Shanks please..”

“We have time, let’s take it slow”

He’s such a cocky teasing asswhole

we still love him

Zoro

He always ripped apart some pieces of your underwear

Last night your thong barely made it alive, few days ago your bra lost an arm, one of your pantie didn’t make it through the injury

You were two panties away from a penury of underwear and when you were sailing for days and days, you couldn’t afford that

So you had to protest in your own way, and it was now to sleep naked so he won’t rip none of your clothes off

Zoro walked into your shared room with a cocked eyebrow when he quickly realized what was happening

“What are- why are you-“

“I’m protesting!”

“Huh?”

“You carelessly rip my underwear off so I won’t sleep with them anymore”

He rubbed his face against his face before he broke in a silent chuckle. He smirked and looked you up and down.

“Sure, doesn’t seem like the big punishment if you ask me”

“Shut up and get to bed already” you spat back annoyed as you push yourself more against the wall to leave some space for him

“Who said we were gonna sleep?”

He smirked as he removed the sheets and pulled your body closer to him. He got to his knees and propped himself between your thighs.

“Let me apologize first”