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jazzthatonewriterchick · 10 months

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Daddy’s Home (Dom!Gojo x Sub!Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

“Daddy’s home, baby. Now take your fucking clothes off.”

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: It’s been 3 years. You believe your fiancé is dead. You’ve been attempting to move forward in your life without him there beside you. You try to grieve properly in order to move on….until he comes home. And he’s more than ready to make up lost time.

Warnings: MANGA SPOILERS; Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Grief; Mentions of Depression, Death & Suicide; Alcohol/Drug Use; Feral!Gojo; Rough Sex; Ripping Clothes; Dirty Talk; Cunnilingus; Forced Deepthroating; Face-Fucking; Multiple Positions; Gojo Giving You Deep Dick; Breeding Kink; Unprotected PIV Sex; Creampie; Cum Eating; Ownership; Gojo Makes You a Mommy; Aftercare; Degradation; Petnames: Baby; Little Girl; Mama; Sweetheart

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

*IMPORTANT NOTE: In the manga, Gojo is only sealed for 19 days, but in the time of the rest of the manga being written and illustrated, it was 3 years. So the timeline of his being sealed and freed will be 3 years.

Writer’s Note: I’m coping. AND celebrating my man's birthday!! The happiest birthday (and week and month) to my favorite boi! 💙💙💙 -Jazz

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You’ve never felt such pain before.

It isn't pain that can simply be fixed with a band-aid or a kiss, like a scrape or a cut. It is a deep, cavernous, emotional pain that you have never experienced before...not before losing your fiance. The man you adored and cherished. Your best friend. Your soulmate. Your sunshine peeking through the dark, gray clouds.

But since losing him, all your days are washed with gray. You can't stand any sunny days now, knowing that he loved them and would want to do something–anything–to seize them. "C'mon, baby, let's go get some ice cream!" he'd cheerfully shout. Or "let's go biking" or "wanna take a walk in the park with me?"

Now, all you do is lay in bed and watch the days go by, the pain you feel too much. You've never experienced something so profound and intense. It causes you to cry every single morning into the night until the pink of dawn comes again.

It's been like this for three years now since you lost him forever. It still feels weird to say that: forever. You thought you'd have forever with him, but it was ripped away from you all that time ago during the Shibuya incident. It was a bloody war, from what you've heard; a massacre. So many innocent people perished.

The lives that were spared were among the other Sorcerers and his students, including Nobara who managed to survive Mahito's attack . You visited her all that time she spent in the hospital after the attack as the doctors worked to save her eye. In the end, she lost it, but gained a false one just last year that looks exactly like her real one.

Nanami also survived. It was a close call, apparently. Yuji had found him and attacked Mahito before Nanami could face his violent death. Half of his face and body are completely scalped, but he doesn't try to cover them. They are his battle scars; a reminder of what he is fighting for. He still resides in Japan though you've all been telling him to retire and go to Malaysia. "Not until he's back," he'd fiercely say. "I'm not resting until he's out of that damn box."

He checks on you as do Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara, to ensure you're okay. Shoko spent the night with you a few times until you firmly told her to stop. "I'm not gonna slit my wrists or anything," you scoffed. Shoko pursed her lips at you as she smoked her cigarette on your balcony. "No, but you might drink yourself to death first," she mumbled.

And yes, you have been drinking. You've also been smoking. Weed and alcohol are all that cure the pain, at least for a little while. You don't have to see his dazzling smile or snow-white hair behind your eyelids when you fall asleep high as a kite. It's unhealthy and you know that, but what else can you do?

You have nothing to live for anymore. Your fiance is gone. You try to tell the others this, who have worked tirelessly all this time to find a way to bail him out. 'It's been three years!' you think. 'If they haven't found a way yet, they never will. He is never getting out of that box or the Prison Realm.' And that is the sad, horrible truth.

You curl yourself into a ball now, wrapped in one of his crisp button-up shirts, naked underneath. It is twelve in the afternoon. You haven't eaten or gotten dressed, only showered and brushed your teeth (after Shoko sent you a text to do so). Tears stain your eyes which still sting from your sob session the night before. "Satoru," you whimper into the pillows. "Come back to me, please."

You know this isn't possible, but you wish to God or whoever makes miracles happen that it was. How can you live in a world, in a realm, where your love isn't here? You were going to get married, in spring of 2024. He had promised you after a wonderful night of dinner, champagne, and dancing on a private yacht he ordered just for you two.

When he got down on those long legs, one knee propped up, and presented you with that box, you could feel yourself melt. "After all of this is over," he promised, "after I make this world safer for you, let's do it, baby. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you." He gave you that big, gigawatt, hopeful smile as you felt tears pour down your cheeks, ruining your makeup. "You up for seein' this face forever?" he joked.

That night, you answered him. Over and over again, making love until morning. Until you were both spent and ached so good from twisting your bodies in a hundred different positions. Until your thighs were soaked with his cum and all you could see, hear, and smell was him.

You were more than prepared to spend the rest of your life like that with him...and now, that's all gone. A fresh wave of grief overcomes you and you grip the pillow, stuffing your face into it. Once again, you say the same words you've been saying for three years like a prayer: "Satoru, come back to me. Please."

BANG!

The sound is so loud and abrupt that it scares you. You sit up immediately, your heart lurching into your throat. You look around the room only to find it empty, but then hear the familiar sound of the front door closing from downstairs. Someone is here. But who?

"H-Hello?" you call. "Shoko, is that you?"

No answer. It is completely silent all except for the birds chirping outside your window which only adds to the ominous feeling of the situation at hand. You never gave Shoko a spare key to your home and you're the only one who can get in and out. So who the fuck is in your house?

You then hear the familiar sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, one by one, as if the stranger is taking his sweet time doing so. You instantly reach for your phone to dial 911 and retreat to the bathroom across the room, but stop when a shadow crosses the bedroom wall, and then a figure appears in the threshold of the bedroom you used to share with your fiance.

You stare at the figure hard as if it's difficult for you to decipher it, but it's impossible not to know who it is. You can tell from how tall he is as he stands there, towering over you in the doorway. You can tell from his lean body sinewy with muscles under his black clothes. You can tell from his pale skin, snow-white hair you used to love to run your fingers through, and iced, blue eyes that stare right through you.

That same lovely, adorable, sexy, dazzling grin crosses his pillowy-soft, pink lips as he stares at you from across the room. “Honey, I’m home," Gojo chirps as if he just walked in from a hard day at work.

You stare him down, afraid to move or speak in fear of ruining this or exposing it for what it is: a trick. A mirage. A hallucination caused by too much alcohol or weed (unlikely, but still). Is this a dream? Are you dead? Did you go ahead and drink yourself to death like Shoko foresaw?

He walks toward you, slowly as if to not frighten you further. You stay on the bed, afraid to move. You're trembling. He finally stops just at arm's length from you, that same smile and warm gaze still on his face. “T-Tarou?” you whisper, finding your voice.

“In the flesh," he replies in that easy, sexy drawl that you've always loved. So careless. So laidback. His expression grows concerned, his brows drawn together. “How ya doin’, baby?” he asks. Your heart flips at the sound of that pet name. You haven't heard it in so, so long.

You scamper towards him, wanting to get closer to him, but then stop, afraid to. He doesn't react to either, still standing there and waiting for you to process this. “No,” you whisper. “This isn’t real. I’m just high as fuck right now.” You put your hands in your hair, gripping the dark coils/braids/locs/curls/twists harshly.

You know that this isn't possible. You haven't touched any weed since yesterday morning, wanting to give yourself a break. Gojo whistles as he nods at the bong sitting on your bedside table. “Well, judging from that, probably so. You got any left? I could use it after the 3 years I’ve had.”

You don't answer. You barely even breathe, afraid to do so in fear of putting a tear in the fabric of this moment and ripping it apart. You still can't tell if this is really happening. Is it a trick of your cursed grief making you see shit? Could it be that a Curse is here and has somehow taken over Gojo's body, and now, they're here to kill you? You would rather take that than this uncertainty.

Gojo suddenly raises his hand toward you as if to touch you, but doesn't. “Touch me," he encourages. Though hesitant, you lift a tentative hand and stroke your fingers over his veiny arm. All you feel is solid, soft, warm skin. Gojo's smile gets bigger. “See? I’m real. It’s really me, baby.”

And suddenly, the fog over your mind has been cleared and you can see clearly. All is for certain, including that the man standing here is your man. Your 'Tarou. “It’s really you,” you whimper. “Oh, my God….oh, my God!” You can't stop the tears or the blubbering as relief and utter joy wash over you.

Gojo opens your arms for you and he barely budges as you shoot into them, not even making him stagger. You bury your head in his chest, breathing in his scent and moving your hands over his back muscles. “I’ve missed you,” you sob. “I’ve missed you so, so much, Satoru! It’s been awful!”

He holds you tight to him, solid and absolutely real. “Shhh, I’m sorry, Y/N,” he coos. “I would’ve come back sooner, but I had to take care of some things.”

You pull away to look up at him through your blurred vision. He doesn't appear hurt or bruised. In fact, he looks the exact same he did before he was sealed in that box. “What do you–“

“And I’ll tell you everything after I get some pussy.”

You pause, processing his abrupt words. “What?” you scoff. “But what about all that's happened? How'd you even escape the Prison Realm? Have you eaten or drank? What about–"

Gojo, impatient, presses a long finger to your lips. “Forget about all of that right now, Y/N. Worry about the fact that you haven’t seen me in three years and you’re dying for me to put you in the mattress again.”

Then that familiar, dark, lustful look crosses his eyes like an eclipse, taking over him. “I think you’re understanding me clearly," he says, his voice dipping an octave lower than usual. “Daddy’s home, baby. Now take your fuckin’ clothes off.”

You stare at him hard, wondering if he is serious. You haven’t seen him in three years. You have so many more questions to ask him. Like what did he do while sealed? Did he see Yuji, Megumi and Nobara before he came? Were they the ones that got him out? Is he okay?

But from the way he is staring you down like he wants to take a piece of you, you can tell that all of those questions will have to just wait to be answered. Plus, the last one is already answered for you: no, he isn’t okay. He is fucking feening for you. He needs you. You can tell from the way his hands grip you closer and from the feeling of his semi hard-on pressing into your thigh from inside his pants.

You can’t imagine what three years without sex was like and you don’t want to. So you’re more than happy to give him whatever he is looking for right now. “O-Okay, Gojo,” you softly stutter. Your hands move to his top to unbutton it, first starting at the bottom. But your hands fumble and shake as if this is the first time you’re doing this for him.

“Takin’ too long,” Gojo growls, impatient. Tearing your hands away from his shirt, he immediately rips the $1,000 top off of you, revealing your laced bra and panties underneath. You squeak as he does so, alarmed. “Gojo, your shirt!” you gasp, especially when the buttons fly all over the place.

“Forget the fuckin’ shirt,” he says, his voice all but a rasp. "I’ll get a new one. It’s not fair how sexy you look in my clothes, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to your chest, breathing you in for a moment. “God, I’ve missed your smell,” he sighs. “I’ve missed how you feel. I’ve missed you so, so much.” He pulls away then, looking down at your hand. “And you’re still wearing the ring,” he points out.

You look down at your hand where the sterling silver engagement ring sits, its diamonds sparkling at you. “Of course,” you whisper. “I never took it off. I’m engaged to you.” You want to tell him that you always dreamed he’d come back, that you wanted him to see you with it when he did.

“So there’s been no one else?” he suddenly asks, his eyes sizing you up. “You haven’t been with any other man besides me?” Immediately, you shake your head. “No, Daddy,” you whisper, immediately falling back into the soft, obedient, submissive state that you always slide into with him as if it’s natural to you. And it is. He makes you feel so safe and loved and kept. It’s impossible not to do so all for him. “There’s been no one,” you say. “No one can ever make me feel the way you do.”

A crooked smirk crosses Gojo’s lips that has you quivering in between your thighs. “So one has played with this body but me?” he asks. “No one has played with that pussy but me?” Again, you shake your head, your breath becoming short and labored. His eyes seem to dark even more, becoming an ocean blue. “That’s what I wanna hear,” he whispers. Then his lips are finally, finally, on yours, his tongue dancing and swirling with yours, creating a wet, sloppy, feverish kiss that takes your breath away.

You moan wantonly into his mouth, wrapping your arms around him. Oh, how you’ve missed this. How you’ve only prayed to feel these lips again. At some point during the dizzying kissing session, Gojo pulls his clothes off, breaking apart from you to strip himself of his shirt, pants, and shoes, leaving himself in his designer briefs that look way tighter than usual.

Actually, now that you’re noticing it, his entire body looks buffer than usual. Gojo has always had muscles but was leaner three years ago. Now, his muscles are more defined, pushing up against his shirt when he has it on.

He smirks at your wandering eyes. “Something you like, mama?” he purrs. He takes your hand, running it over his hard abs and chiseled abs where his pink nipples are hard for you, ready to be sucked. “Something…different?”

“It’s just…you’re so…” You shudder in delight as he slides your hand down his stomach that you could bake cookies on. “Big,” you decide, running your free hand up his forearm. “You don’t have much to do in the Prison Realm except work out and masturbate,” he chuckles. “I wanted to be bigger and stronger for you when I was finally free. And I wanna let you know something, baby.” He leans in then, pressing his lips against your ear. “It’s all yours,” he whispers. “This body…this cock…everything. All of it is yours.”

You shudder again as his dirty words swirl in your mind. He pulls away, smirking at you. “Lemme show you what I mean.” Then, instantly, he is snapping off your bra and flinging it away before his lips and hands are latching to your nipples. He sucks and licks at your hard, brown nipples like a hungered man, his hands groping the sensitive globes and pinching your nipples with his long, piano fingers. “Look at these beautiful fuckin’ titties,” he says, more to himself than to you. “I’ve missed my girls so much.”

Your head falls back and your mouth opens, captured by the pleasure he is giving you. “S-Satoru,” you whimper. Every graze of his teeth and lick of his skillful tongue has your pussy gushing. You haven’t been this wet in three years! Actually, you haven’t even been horny in three years. No one has ever been able to arouse you the way Gojo can.

You find yourself rolling your hips against his knee as your hands grasp his broad shoulders for balance and leverage. Gojo hums as you grind your wet, panty-covered pussy against his knee, smirking up at you playfully. “Grindin’ that pussy on my leg, hm?” he tuts. “Even after three years, you’re still a little slut. I wouldn’t have it any other way though.”

He gives one of your titties one last suck before he shoves himself away from you. You stare up at him, confused, while he only gives you a stern look. “Get on the bed and open your legs. I need that pussy in my face.”

You are helpless to refuse him, especially when your pussy is begging and sobbing for the same thing. You quickly hurry onto the bed and sit back onto your elbows as you open your legs for him. Gojo is between them immediately, his hands ripping off your panties as if they are no more than strings. As soon as he gets a look at your puffy, wet pussy leaking for him, he groans and his cock visibly twitches in his pants. “Shit,” he hisses. “I’ve missed her too.”

And then he’s giving in like he would the cleanest, purest, bluest waters, his hands under your ass to give him a better angle and a better way to plunge his tongue deeper inside you. He laps and sucks at your pussy and sensitive clit, his tongue flicking and swirling around your hole like he needs it. Craves it.

You grab at his hair, pushing his head deeper into you as you wail and moan to the heavens above. “O-Oh, my God!” you cry out to the ceiling. “‘Tatoru, yes, more! Please give me more! Don’t stop!”

Your voice bounces off of the bedroom walls, unbound and unashamed. You haven’t had this kind of pleasure––so intense and explosive––in so long. His wet mouth and soft lips feel so good. His nose brushing against your clit as his tongue swirls inside your pussy is beyond. You feel incredible…too incredible. Gojo works his mouth fast, pulling you quickly towards an orgasm that gathers in your core and threatens to tumble down over you.

“Wait, Daddy!” you protest. “Slow down! ‘M gonna cum too fast!”

Gojo’s blue eyes peer up at you through long, white lashes as he continues to lap at your cunt. “Do it,” he demands. “‘Cause I’m finna make you cum as many times as I want to. I’ll make you cream your pretty brains out till dawn, baby. I’m making up for lost time.”

He ducks back down, going faster, and even adding his long index and middle fingers inside of the wet, tight depths of your pussy. Your walls clench around him instantly as he expertly finds your G-spot and begins gliding his fingers up against it, encouraging you to cum with every stroke of his fingers and tongue. “Do it,” he orders. “Cum for me. Cum around my fingers and my tongue, gorgeous. I’ve got you. I promise.”

And you know he does. He grips one of your hips with one hand as he finger fucks you with the other, humming “mm-hmm” and other encouraging words that are smothered by your pussy as he drags you closer to your orgasm. When it finally breaks, it crashes onto you like a wave, causing your back to arch off of the bed like you’re experiencing an exorcism. “Fuck!” you sob as you feel your body shake and shudder through your earth-shattering orgasm.

Moans of Gojo’s government and curses to the stars leave your lips as Gojo carries you through your mind-blowing, body-shaking, earth-quaking orgasm…and even after, when your body aches and your heart is pounding, he continues to eat your pussy.

He continues to lap and suck at your lips, cleaning up the cum that dribbles out your hole and down your asscrack. He licks there too, moaning breathlessly and wantonly as he does. Finally, when he is good and satisfied, he pulls away from you and sits back onto his hands, breathing heavily with his chin and lips shiny with your juices and his saliva.

A weak moan leaves your lips as your pussy twitches in delight and exhaustion at being stimulated. You feel so, so good. So free. You finally feel as if the sun has finally shown itself behind the gray clouds that have darkened your life for three years. You look at your man adoringly, wanting him to know how much you love him and how good he has made you feel. “Gojo,” you sigh. “That was amazing. I–“

“Open your mouth,” he demands. You button your lip, your words failing you immediately. You stare at him blankly, your post-orgasm brain not quite processing his words. Gojo sits up on his knees on the mattress, grabbing his cock in his pants. “You fuckin’ heard me,” he growls. “Open that slutty mouth, now. Don’t make me tell you again, little girl.” He pins you down with an intimidating look that is only intensified by his sapphire eyes.

Once again, you can’t deny him. While still recovering from your orgasm, you open your mouth wide for him, your plump lips covering your teeth and your tongue out. Just the way he likes it. Gojo walks towards you on his knees and stays beside you as he unbuttons his pants. In one swift motion, he takes down his pants and his briefs, causing his cock to pop out. The long, thick, veiny appendage, bubbling with pre-cum from its pink head, lightly slaps you in the face, causing you to gasp.

Gojo grabs your neck rather roughly, pulling you towards his cock without properly preparing you or waiting for you to prepare yourself. You stare down at his large dick, alarmed at how hard he is. The veins in his shaft throb as does his head that is quickly turning from a soft pink to an angry red. “Gojo, hold up–“

But your words are interrupted by his cock sliding between your lips. A hiss of relief leaves Gojo’s lips as he grips your neck, beginning to rut his hips deep into your mouth. “Sorry, mama,” he groans, “but I can’t be nice to that throat today. I’m just too pent-up. You understand, right?”

You can’t even answer. His cock is too thick; too big; it stretches your mouth out too wide, making your jaw hurt. But all you have to do is breathe through your nose and take it, which Gojo tells you to do so, as he begins to fuck your throat like it’s your pussy. Like it’s his own personal fleshlight.

“Fuckin�� fuck yes!” Gojo loudly grunts, his voice completely primal and animalistic as he roughly fucks your throat. Though he has fucked your throat before, this time, it feels much, much different. He grips your hair and makes your scalp sting with how much he pulls it. He plunges your throat so fast and so hard in your sloppy throat that saliva drips down your chin and down your tits. He turns your face into his fuck toy, doing with it as he pleases.

But though primal and animalistic, he is still completely involved with your pleasure. When you suddenly feel his fingers quickly rubbing your clit after licking his palm, your body lurches and your thighs twitch while you whine and protest feebly around his cock. “Theeeere we go,” he chuckles. “That’s what I want. Feel good with me, mama. This is where your weak, right? Right here?”

He applies more pressure, rubbing your rosebud in time with his thrusts into your throat, his balls swinging against your chin. All you can feel, taste, and smell is him. Your senses are completely overtaken by him. “T-Tawou!” You moan around his cock. “Two mwuch! ‘M sensitive!” Your words are a muffled, jumbled mess around his thick dick, causing more spit to fall from your mouth as you try to speak.

You go to close your legs, but Gojo’s hand yanking on your hair stops you short. “Uh-uh, sweetie,” he teasingly says. “Don't pull away. You owe me this.” He pushes your head farther down his cock, bottoming out in your mouth, causing him to moan so loud that it echoes in the bedroom. “You owe me this for stayin’ so damn sexy after so long. How is that even possible?” He questions you repeatedly as he fucks your throat harder and faster, grunting as he does so. "How's that possible, huh? Huh? Tell me, baby.”

You are turned into a total and complete hole the more he fucks your mouth and flicks your clit, bringing you to yet another orgasm that has your thighs shaking. Finally, he releases your hair and lets you pull away, causing his cock to pop out of your mouth. “Gonna cum!” you whine, spit and cum all over your mouth. “I’m cummin’ again, Satoru!”

Gojo stares at your pussy like a kid in a candy store as you cum once again, gushing all around his long fingers and all over the bedsheets. “Gooood girl!” he praises you. “Cum on these fingers, baby. Gimme what I want, but don't get too distracted, mmkay?” He takes his cock and slides himself back home into your mouth even as you moan and your body writhes on the bed.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he chants, transfixed by the way your body moves and your pussy clenches. “That’s what I want. This is what I need.”

He rubs at your clit until he can feel your exhausted body jerking from the aftershocks. He finally pulls away from you then, cock and all, though he is still hard and throbbing. “I need to fuck you now,” he growls, desperation in his eyes. “And I can’t stop until I cum inside you, baby…without a rubber. Is that okay with you?”

You blink at him, your sight slightly blurred from the two orgasms and your throat raw from it being fucked into oblivion. He must know that you will say yes. He must know that you’ll say yes to anyone he wants or needs. But yet, he still asks because safe sex has always been a priority with him in your relationship. He has always used condoms and has always made a point to not do anything involving PIV sex if he happened to run out.

But now, here he is, telling you that he needs to fuck you raw and cum inside you, possibly breeding you. And you find yourself burning for the same thing like a wildfire has lit inside you. You lean back against the pillows and open your cum-soaked thighs for him, showing him your glistening, puffy, sensitive pussy. “Yes,” you reply. “Fuck me, Daddy. Cum inside me. Breed me.”

Gojo stares at your pussy, spread open for him like it’s spun gold. Suddenly, the loving, silly, goofy man you’ve grown to love is gone, replaced with one who is starved, rough, demanding, and merciless. It thrills and frightens you.

“Oh, you’re gonna fuckin’ get it, girl,” he growls before he grabs you, tosses you onto your back, and gets on top of you. “I’m gonna fuck you till you’re spent,” he promises as he throws your legs over his shoulders and prepares to slide deep inside of you until his balls touch your ass.

When he says this, he means it. Baby, Gojo has you in every position known to man.

He starts first by fucking you in missionary, giving you deep, deep dick that nearly touches your soul and makes you see stars. One of his big, veiny hands wraps around your throat, squeezing gently on your windpipe, while the other pins your thigh open as his cock plunges in and out of your wet, sobbing cunt. He pounds you into the mattress, his big body pressing against yours and his hips nailing your pelvis.

Then he has you on top in 69, his hands groping and smacking your jiggly ass while he, once again, stuffs his face in your cunt. You suck his dick in time with his tongue laps, gagging and slobbering all over his cock much to his delight. It is sloppy and dirty and messy…and you love every minute of it.

You love how his pubic hairs tickle your chin the deeper you slide him down your throat. You love how your eyes sting with tears as he tickles the back of your throat. You love the way his tongue slides from your pussy hole to your asshole, lapping at each one as if they’re the best things he’s ever tasted.

He fucks on your back, hanging off the bed. He fucks you on your stomach, your ass tooted up while his feet are firmly planted on the bed, hammering his dick deep inside of you. He sucks you on your side, his hands cupping your jiggling breasts while his lips caress your neck and shoulder. And he makes you cum every. Single. Time.

By the time he has you on your knees with his cock buried deep in your pussy once again and your arms pulled behind your back, your body is aching for rest and your pussy is a mushy, gushy mess around his cock.

But still you persist, moaning and screaming at the top of your lungs the harder he fucks you. Your voice, along with his own, the creaking bedsprings, and the sound of skin slapping against skin, fills the air around you. “Yes, yes, Daddy, yes, fuck me!” you babble, your words a jumbled mess.

Gojo cackles from behind you, loving how slutty and broken you are on his cock. “You feelin’ good, baby?” he asks. “This dick makin’ you feel good? Don’t have to use those damn toys or those fingers anymore, no. You’ve got me now and I’ll take good, good care of this pussy.”

He slams his hips harder against your ass, making it bounce and jiggle. The harder he goes, the more intense your orgasm gets and you find yourself about to have your sixth orgasm of the day…or night. Is it nighttime now? You can't tell. You’ve been at this for hours, fucking and cumming all over the bed. You don't even know what day it is anymore.

All you can think about is Gojo’s dick and cumming on it. “Shit, I’m gonna cum again!” you sob.

Gojo’s hand circles around your throat, choking you. “Cum on this dick,” he demands. “Do it! Fuckin’ do it for me, baby!”

And you do. Like a puppet on a string being controlled by the white-haired, big-dicked man behind you, you writhe in the air and cum all over his cock. A weak, long moan leaves your lips as you come undone, all self-control leaving you. Gojo pulls out of you with a hiss, talking about how “fuckin’ tight” you are. When you’re released, your arms fall to your sides as you crumble onto the mattress, falling face-first into the pillow. Your body is hot and sweaty, your pussy is twitching, your ass is stinging from his assault on it. You are completely spent.

Gojo leans down to kiss your forehead, smiling at your exhaustion. “Aww, is my baby tired now?” he coos. You weakly moan in response, too tired to speak. “Too bad because I still need to cum inside you. You did ask me to breed you and I’ve gotta make this count.”

Before you can even protest, he is grabbing your weak body and forcing you onto your knees, hiking your ass up for him. He sinks into your overly sensitive, used pussy once more, drawing a moan out of both of you. You let him do as he pleases, too exhausted to fight or argue.

He takes hold of your hips and ruts into you like his life depends on it, nailing that spot again and again that makes you see the entire universe behind your eyelids. It feels so damn good. He fucks you at a breakneck pace, going faster with each second that passes. “O-Oh, s-shit!” you scream into the mattress. “F-Fuck, Daddy, f-f-u-uck!”

Gojo’s fucking is egged on by your moans, his pelvis slamming into your ass and taking your very breath away. “Take this cock,” he groans. “Take all of this dick, baby. It’s yours. All of it is fuckin’ yours. It always was and always will be.” He hikes up his leg and fucks you on one knee, causing him to grow louder and his moans to become more desperate and needy.

“God, I missed this!” he whines. “I’ve been fucking burning for you, baby. Needed you so, so much!” You picture him in the Prison Realm, his hand wrapped around his cock as he is surrounded by darkness and loneliness. As tears spring into your eyes, you lift yourself up onto weak arms to look back at him. “Then show me,” you whisper. “Show me how much you’ve missed me. Cum inside me, ‘Tarou, baby.”

You begin to toss your ass back into him, meeting his every thrust. Gojo takes what you give him and serves it right back, moving in tandem with you. “You want me to cum?” he asks. You nod, moaning and whimpering as you feel his cock begin to swell inside you. “You want me to feel that pussy up?” he grunts. “Want me to make you a mommy? Want me to give you a kid? My kid?”

He begins to pound your pussy into the mattress again, picking up speed. You can feel your last orgasm rising, ready to rip through you. “Say it to me, mama,” he demands. “Tell me you want my baby. Lemme hear it.”

“Yes!” you cry out. “Yes, Satoru, I want your child! I wanna mother your baby!” That must please Gojo because he begins rolling his hips harshly against your ass, rutting into you like he’s trying to fit a home run. His handsome face is red and glittering in sweat, his snow-white hair plastered to his wet forehead.

“Can’t wait to see you full with me,” he groans. “Can’t wait till this tummy is round with my baby and those tits are full of milk. You’re gonna look so, so pretty carryin’ my baby, sweetheart. You’re gonna be the best mommy ever.”

And he’ll be the best daddy ever. That is all you can think as you feel your own orgasm rising at the same time as him, like the sun and the moon rising in unison in the sky. Forever bonded. Forever together.

“Gonna cum,” Gojo warns. “Gonna cum deep inside you. You’d better cum with me too. Cum all over my cock, baby. Cum with me while I fill this little pussy up.”

You nod and wail into the pillow, gripping it for dear life as another blinding orgasm rips through your body. Gojo fucks into your wet, cum-soaked pussy until he feels his own nut coming and he desperately fucks you to chase his high. “Cumming!” he babbles. “‘M cummin’, I’m cummin’, I’m cummin’!”

And when he fills you up, it’s explosive. It’s deep. It’s intense. It fills every part of you, filling you with warmth and the feeling of being absolutely filled to the brim. You weakly moan as you feel his cum fill your tummy, no doubt reaching your womb. He stills for a moment, plugging his cum inside you, before slowly and sloppily rocking his hips into you to fuck his cum deep into your pussy.

When he is finally sure that you’re good and bred, he puts his hands on his narrow hips and whistles tiredly. “Shit,” he sighs. “I really needed that.” You moan in agreement. He then pulls out of you slowly, causing you to whimper quietly as your aching pussy is no longer filled.

He stares at it between your thighs, humming appetizingly. “Mmm, now that’s a sight: a pretty, fucked pussy drippin’ with my cum. Don’t mind if I do.”

Then his mouth is between your thighs again, lapping gently at his and your cum mingled together all over your pussy and inner thighs. You arch your back for him, moaning softly at his soft, careful tongue strokes.

When he finishes, you turn to him, finding his semi-hard cock dripping with your mingled fluids. “You still got some left here, Daddy,” you coo before moving to lap up the cum you left behind on his cock. He allows it, his hand in your hair while he sighs about how good you are.

Once you are cleaned up and all is said and done, the two of you finally lay side by side in your bed, together again at last. You curl into his chest, leaning your head against his heart and wrapping your arms around him. He welcomes it, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead “Welcome home, baby,” you whisper as you look up at him. “Now you gonna tell me how you got out?”

He looks down at you, almost as if he forgot he was supposed to answer a bunch of your very important questions. “Oh, Itadori did that,” he explains like he’s telling you the weather. “He’s a smart kid, y’know. Say, you up for some sushi? I’m cravin’ some fish right now.”

All you can do is laugh and kiss your man before getting the takeout menu that you keep in the nightstand next to the bed. All the important questions can wait.

For now, all you want and need is him.

THE END.

#smutty smut #my works #black fanfic writer #my fic shit #black coded reader #black writers #satoru gojo x black!reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #feral gojo #happy birthday gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut

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xx-like-a-villian-xx · 5 months

Text

For The Last Time | One

“It had been months since you’d seen each other, five and three days to be exact (not that he was counting or anything), months since you had broken up with him. You said it was for the best, that your careers were more important but Noah didn’t think so.”

What I thought was going to be a lil angsty one shot has become a multiple part cry fest ahhh. Here’s part one <3

I'm posting this because it's in my drafts x

My ao3 is HERE

Also let me know if you want to be tagged in any upcoming posts :)

CW: post break up, angst, Noah has lots of feelings, “talking” about feelings, loads of swearing

(Dropping this because it was burning a hole in my drafts and I just wanted to get it out there)

18+ MDNI | Noah Sebastian x Reader

“Thought I’d find you here.” Your voice reached Noah’s ears like a siren song and it was infuriating.

He turned slightly, watching you approach him in that dress, that fucking dress that hugged every single curve on your body so perfectly it made him feel crazy, feral. He had been trying his damned hardest to avoid you all night and of course you found him, cigarette between his tattooed fingers, on the balcony, moping.

“The party is wild in there.” You gestured to the balcony doors that were muffling the sound of chatter and loud music inside.

“Yeah, I just needed some quiet.” His voice was gruff when he spoke and it only made you roll your eyes.

It had been months since you’d seen each other, five and three days to be exact (not that he was counting or anything), months since you had broken up with him. You said it was for the best, that your careers were more important but Noah didn’t think so.

You see, Noah would have walked through fire, jumped in front of a bullet, he would have stolen the moon from the fucking sky if you asked him to but you didn’t feel the same and as much as it hurt to watch you walk away, he did because he loved you. Issue is, he just couldn’t get over you.

He had avoided you like the plague for months but it was getting progressively harder because you shared friends. Usually it was easy, he left when you showed up, he asked around to see if you were going to events so he could make excuses not to go. It was fine, he hated socialising at the best of times so it was no skin off his nose.

Then you showed up to the album release in that fucking dress and his heart just about dropped out of his ass. And the worst part? You had some six foot four Doberman energy gym rat on your arm. That’s when he found himself storming out to the balcony with a half drank bottle of Hennessy and a pack of cigarettes he had stolen off the kitchen island.

He didn’t dare look at you again, instead his eyes stayed trained on the twinkling lights of the city when you joined him at the railing, your warmth burning his skin like acid.

”How have you been?”

Well that was a loaded question. What was he meant to say? ‘Oh yeah, I’m fantastic, nice to see you, Y/N. Who’s the hunk?’ Nah. He would rather put his hand in a blender.

“Fine.” He wasn’t in the mood to talk to you. Instead he stubbed the cigarette out and took a long swig of the cognac, letting it burn down his throat in an attempt to quell the anger boiling in his blood.

He could feel you shift uncomfortably next to him and he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. What did you have to feel uncomfortable about? You practically tore his heart out and curb stomped it. And to add a cherry on top of the shit icing, you decided his fucking album release party would be the best time to hard launch your new man.

Noah really, really wasn’t in the mood and he was practically begging the gods to make you just go inside and forget about it, enjoy your night and have fun but instead you reached out, took the bottle from his hands and took a huge swig.

Fuck.

“Shouldn’t you be with your date, Mick is it?” He finally grits through a clenched jaw.

You chuckle lightly. “It’s Mike, and he’s talking to Folio about fishing.”

Betrayer, of course he would be. Trust Folio to be rubbing shoulders with the enemy over fucking fishing poles.

Noah hums, running a hand through his recently cut short hair.

”It suits you, you know, short hair.” He turned to you fully with furrowed eyebrows. What was your game?

God you looked fucking beautiful, your hair was pulled back into a bun at the back of your neck, curled strands framing your face. Sharp wings of eyeliner made your eye colour stand out beautifully in the low light, along with those dark lashes and your lips were painted a shade of red that could only be described as unholy and fuck, he just wanted to feel them on his again.

”You think?” His voice was weak and he internally kicked himself for even looking at you because his knees felt weak and his stomach felt like it might explode.

You smiled that smile that he fell for all those years ago, reaching your hand out to brush a stray piece of hair from his eyes.

Yeah, he was well and truly fucked, done for, so fucking completely in love with you. He was never getting over you.

“Hey, we’re about to play the album.” Nicholas’ voice from the balcony door made you jump back away from Noah.

”See you inside, yeah?” He nodded at your words, watching you walk back inside to Mike, planting a soft kiss on the guy's cheek and Noah wanted to vomit.

Nicholas was staring at him with a smirk.

”Shut the fuck up.” Noah pointed at his best friend, grabbing the bottle of Hennessy before pushing his way inside.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Noah had been shifting uncomfortable in his seat, your narrowed eyes burning into him for almost an hour. You were clinging on to every fucking lyric he wrote and he knew he was in for it the moment you could get him alone again.

So as soon as the album had played through and chatter started up again, he was up on his feet, moving across the room before you could get to him.

”Hey, Noah isn’t it?” Oh for fuck’s sake. Mike held a hand out to him,

Noah hesitantly shook it with a smile that he was faking hard, gritting his teeth. “Yeah, nice to meet you…Mike?”

The taller man grinned. “Yeah, I’m Y/N’s boyfriend but I’m guessing you already know.”

Yeah, he fucking does know.

“It’s so sick that she knows you guys, I’ve listened to your last two albums and they go hard, man.”

Noah nodded, smiling, looking behind the guy to see you storming towards them with clenched fists.

“Look, Mike, I’m sorry to cut this short bu-“

“Hi babe, what are we talking about?” Fuck, you were now standing next to Mike, staring up at Noah with a false grin that screamed ‘I’m going to fucking kill you’.

”Oh, I was just telling Noah how much I fuck with the music babe.” Mike was completely unaware of the frustration bubbling in your bones, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

”That’s lovely.” You cooed, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Could you give Noah and I a second to talk, Folio is looking for you I think.”

Shit, shit, shit. There was no way he was getting out of it now. Mike leaned down to pull you into a kiss before strutting towards Folio and Noah just about wanted the ground to swallow him up right there and then.

”Downstairs, now.”

He had no choice but to follow you down the stairs like a lost dog, shuffling his feet as you stomped down the steps. As soon as you reached the outside, you turned to him with flailing arms.

”What the fuck is all that, Noah? You think that’s okay, airing our dirty laundry out like that?” You were seething, face turning beet red.

”It’s music, Y/N, not everything is about you.”

“Oh so ‘someone else’, ‘the death of peace of mind’ and what was the other one? ‘Bad decisions’? They’re not about me? Right…so the pretty much direct fucking quotes from our break up aren’t there? Sure.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

”First of all, it’s ‘somebody else’. Second of all, why does it matter? You’ve clearly moved on. I mean fuck me right?” He laughed incredulously, running a hand through his hair. “You said that you didn’t want to be with me anymore because your career was taking up all of your time and energy and then you show up here with a new guy, smushing face with him in front of me and my brothers like nothing happened. We were together for six fucking years, Y/N!”

He took a deep breath, chest heaving. You stared up at him with glassy eyes full of fire but he was past caring by that point.

”So forgive me, darling, for pouring my heart into my music. Our break up is still a fresh wound. I genuinely thought that we were gonna be end game and yeah, I’m not fucking over it. Did you even listen to ‘Just Pretend’, huh?”

A tear fell from your lashes onto your cheekbone, your face softening and Noah couldn’t watch. He hated the bullshit, the anger, the sadness. He just wanted to wrap you up in his arms and go back to when everything was okay, back when you were still his. Fuck, it was too much.

”Look, I’m sorry for shouting. I just find it really hypocritical of you to be going off at me like that when you completely blindsided me tonight.”

You nodded your head quickly, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand. He was right, you had no place to be upset when you had hurt him, really fucking hurt him.

Noah could hear Jolly calling his name from inside and he sighed. “Maybe we can talk about all of this over coffee sometime next week. It’s a conversation we really need to have, cut the loose ends so both of us can move on, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was quiet as a mouse, eyes trained on your shoes.

He wanted to reach out, pull you into his chest and comfort you but it wasn’t the right time, he didn’t think it would ever be. You had someone else to hold you and he was upstairs waiting.

“Text me, my number is still the same.”

With a sad smile, he turned, making his way back inside.

#noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fic #bad omens band #badomens #bad omens #bad omens cult #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian angst #noah sebastian x reader #nicholas ruffilo #jolly karlsson #nick folio #reader insert

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lxstfathier · 1 year

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Hey can you do a William afton smut but can I be about like his kinks and some headcanons, and like what’s his type in a girl and stuff and can you do like something really smutty thanks xx

Omg yessss, i have some hcs for you, hope y’all like it!

Warnings: daddy kink, slapping, choking, degradation, breeding kink, basically pure filth. read at you own risk 💗

♡ William doesn’t really have a type when it comes to women. He thinks they’re all beautiful. However, he has a soft spot for girls who are younger and shorter than him, it feeds his raging daddy kink.

♡ Speaking of his daddy kink, he’s had it since he became a real father, and y’all can’t convince me otherwise. He just likes having someone who fully depends on him, and being the one in charge in every aspect of the relationship.

♡ He’s also really into breeding kink and primal play. There’s just something about hunting you like a prey, pining you to the ground and pumping you full of cum, that makes him feel absolutely feral.

♡ Super possessive too. William likes to make sure to mark you as his, leaving hickeys and bruises in every part of your body. He might even collar you, choosing one with a pretty heart-shaped tag that says “William’s property.”

♡ I’ve said it before and now i’ll say it again… he likes calling you his “dumb little bunny”. Cuz he’s super smart, literally a robotics prodigy, and you’re just his pretty little toy to use and degrade whenever he wants.

♡ Absolutely loves oral sex. He can spend hours eating you out, savoring your sweet juices and sucking your clit until you’re moaning and tugging at his hair. And when he sees you on your knees, gagging on his cock like a whore, he feels as if he is a damn god.

♡ William adores seeing you wearing pretty clothes and cute lingerie sets, but he’s so strong that he accidentally rips them off your body when he gets too excited.

♡ Choking and slapping is something that he likes to do almost every time you fuck. He feels powerful, and also he gets turned on with violence, so it’s no surprise that he chokes you until you almost pass out or slaps your cheeks until your skin is all red and sensitive.

♡ He kinda likes fucking you while wearing the spring bonnie suit…

♡ His cock is big, there’s no doubt in that cuz he is like 6’3, a really tall man. So it’s a struggle to take him inside your tight pussy. But don’t worry about it, he’ll make it fit even if you whine and cry in pain, stretching you out impossibly wide until his tip is pressed against your cervix.

♡ Most of the time he’s rough with you, but if he’s tired or in a good mood, he will be incredibly sweet.

♡ He also loves spitting in your mouth. Don’t ask me why, i just know it, he seems like the type of man to enjoy those type of nasty things.

♡ William is not the best at aftercare, cuz he is not super affectionate, but he tries. When you’re both satisfied after fucking like rabbits, he will hold you close to his chest as he smokes a cigarette, murmuring soft praises to your ear.

♡ And he always carries a filthy polaroid of you in his wallet.

#william afton smut #william afton x reader #fnaf fanfic #william afton fanfic

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bitchimasnake-sss · 1 month

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hiii this is the anon that requested part two and i return begging for part three of tennis! zoro.

ahem.

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE

thanks for coming to my tedtalk! :)

in all seriousness though i would love to see a part 3 and definitely think you should have an ao3 to post longer content!! please keep up your lovely writing 💋💋 (MAKE ZORO REALLY WORK FOR IT HEHEHEHE [i was sobbing over how cute his little offerings were AND FALLING ASLEEP AT THE DOOR i cant])

UR THE ONLY ONE KEEPING ME GOING GIRLY 🎀😞. SO GLADDD YOU LIKED THAT ONE, HERE HAVE THIS ONE NOWWW. ILL MAKE ZORO EXTRAA PATHETIC FOR YOU MWUAH😚

bitchimasnake-sss presents: the one piece AUs

03. AITA for going back to my ex? ft. roronoa zoro!

set-up: part 03 [FINAL PART] to my badminton player!zoro au lol. you can find the first two parts here! (i recommend you read those first!) getting your heart broken when you were seventeen was inevitable, getting it broken on camera seven years later was also inevitable, it seems. but letting your ex back into your life with the glittering promises of "i'll win you back in a month?" was getting your heart broken again and again and again also inevitable? most importantly: was roronoa zoro worth your sanity? warnings: dumb people, even dumber plot by me! includes angst towards the end, zoro is an idiot trying his best to win you over! cameos by nami, sanji, perona and mihawk because i love writing them tysm. and obviously smut (hehe u nasty). nsfw thoughts include: feral!zoro. this man is nasty, he likes blood, sweat and tears. a lot of overstimulation, a little bit of bimbofication, hints of dub!con, car-sex, penetration, teasing, dirty talk, a little bit of feral!zor. OKAY THAT'S IT!! MINORS DNI OR I WILL HUNT YOU! wc: 10.6k m.list

17th of october 11:43 p.m.

"really?" and you could hear sanji drop his precious cigarette onto the ground in pure, unaltered shock, "are you toying with me right now, love?"

"no." you replied firmly, nimble fingers getting caught against familiar, green locks as roronoa zoro pressed honeyed lips to your stomach. he trailed downwards, uncaring as your manager spluttered on the speaker.

"you are actually dating that green-haired freak?" from his tone alone, you could imagine sanji to look wide-eyed and tongue-tied. meeting the eyes of the said “green haired freak”, you found a sour expression plastered to his handsome features.

"no... well, not yet.” you swiped your fingers against his scalp, manicured fingers softly scratching the frown on his face away, “we're on a one-month trial phase."

"are you and him a netflix subscription, mon amore? what do you mean one month?" the blonde hissed. but you were far too gone, too warped within the feeling of the athlete’s soft kisses on your hiked-up thighs to even offer a hairsbreadth of attention to your critic.

"well–" as the sportsman hands trailed over your thighs all-too-intimately, you found yourself sighing blissfully, "he said he wants a month to win me back.”

“that is insane.”

“maybe. but his time starts today, so, we have until 17th of november to come to some sort of conclusion." zoro didn’t dare still against your soft skin. kneading the fat of your hips, pressing hot kisses to thighs and nipping at fading bruises to renew them. but you tightened your grip on his locks, tipping his head backwards as you pulled on them. glaring at him, you breathed out a warning, “either he cleans his act up, or i leave him in the dust."

but who was roronoa zoro if not the man made to get on your nerves?

his mouth fell agape as his eyes met yours, and a soft moan tumbling past him at the sharp sting of your pull. that wayward moan soon turned into a grunt as the sportsman toyed with the band of your shorts.

“stop that.” you whispered, eyes growing wide as the blonde on the other end of the speaker continued his distressed rants.

"and what do i do about it?!" for the first time in the five years vinsmoke sanji had been your manager, you heard his voice shake in panic, "you two just broke up! in front of the cameras! like a week ago!"

"it's fine, sanji. people get together all the time—"

"—not if they're olympic level athletes!"

"hey, you have no idea how much shit goes down in the olympic village." you shrugged, "last time 160k condoms were given out, and people flew threw them like it was nothing. there’s lots of crying. and fucking too, actually. sometimes both, now that i think about it."

“rabid monsters.”

“don’t be jealous. athletes just have a lot of stamina.” while you were busy rolling your eyes at the blonde and his dramatic antics, zoro climbed back up over you. a smirk on his lips, flashing you his canines, and mouthing “really? stamina?”

clad in a fitted, black tank top, your eyes drifted down to his arms and chest. shamelessly staring at the muscles flexing and unflexing under the flimsy material, you brought your free hand to run wild against his bicep. finding his index under your jaw, he tilted your face up to meet his eyes again. you smiled up at him without much thought and his heart stuttered out in the rhythm of his shallow breaths. fuck you for being so pretty.

before you could nod and ask what he wanted, he pressed a chaste kiss against your lips. next, he sunk his face in the crook of your neck. you felt the nip of his sharp canines against your sensitive pulse. but that sly bastard. all of that was to distract you from the way he dipped his hand under your shorts and pulled your panties aside.

“zo–“ you started slowly, but it was all in vain. the man above you was on a mission. and that mission was apparently to get your own manager to report you as a sex offender or something?! atleast that’s what it felt like from the way he rubbed his thumb against your sensitive clit.

“either ways.” your manager huffed, ignoring the way your breath hitched at the new bruises against your neck and the stuttering swipes of his thumb against your folds, “this is still insane.”

"weren’t–” you gulped, trying to keep your voice steady, “you were the one saying that my job is to playand yours’ to take care of such things, so, do that.”

“and i can! i can fix it.” you heard a thud ring through the speaker and imagined that the blonde had fallen back onto his back helplessly, “but i need time to fix this. gotta talk to nami-san, and then i will need to fix the narrative using the media. i need time.”

barely raising his lips off of your narcotic skin – with a flushed face and husky voice – zoro replied coolly, “don’t worry, nami’s on our side with this one.”

“HUH?! WHO WAS THAT?”

pinching the taut skin of the athlete’s bicep as a warning to stay shut, your tone stayed sickly sweet, “who? ‘twas the wind, sanji.”

“don’t try to sway me with your use of ‘twas.” he hissed like a wet cat, “is that mosshead here right now? is he in your room right now?!”

“and if you’re worried about the paps, roronoa will buy them out, you know?” as if to protest against your suggestion, zoro flicked his thumb faster against your swollen nub. you glared at him. “a-and if you’re worried someone will see us, they won’t. we won’t go public with it.”

“none of those suave answers.” sanji firmly stated, “answer what I asked first. is he there right now?”

you whistled a soft, “dunno what you’re talking about…” before drawing your phone away from your face, “because that’s blasphemous!!” purposefully covering the speaker with your palm, “hey, hey? sanji- hello? can’t hear… hear you right now. hello?”

you heard a muffled, “DON’T YOU DARE PULL THAT ON ME OR SO GOD HELP ME–“

“still can’t hear you.” your thumb hovered over the red button, “g’night, sanji!”

beep.

“i’m paying for the paps?”

trying to push his weight off of your relatively smaller frame, you huffed out, “c-can’t you stay shut when i ask you to, roronoa?”

in retaliation, he pressed more of his body weight onto you. snuggling his face into your crook and inhaling your scent like a man crazed, his fingers kept toying against you like it was as easy as breathing.

you tried to push him off again, gritting out, “do you think a good dick is enough of a reason to come back? cause it is not.”

“it is one of the reasons, is it not?”

“no. is it not.” you repeated, “shut it, and find a new strategy or something.”

“fine, tsk.” and with that the sportsman got off of you. pulling his hand out of your flimsy shorts, leaving behind your aching body as he got up. standing at the door, he looked back just to delve his long fingers past his lips to suck down on your essence. smiling as he pulled out, he made his conclusion in one, swift word, “sweet.”

and you just threw a pillow at him, face flaming up at the way he just simply caught the pillow and threw it right back at you, “fuck off, roronoa.”

“hm?” he cocked his eyebrow, careful hands still not attempting to open the door and leave, “I’ll just head back to my room, then.”

you found yourself crossing your arms over your chest, half to give him attitude and other half to soothe the skin that had been alit with his body over yours, “go, then. you’re the one who wandered in my room with unholy intentions.”

somebody could mistake his as the reincarnation of the devil with the way he was grinning. all unholy thoughts and malicious actions, “you’re the one still laying, waiting for me to do something.”

at his (correct) accusations, you sat up haughtily. adjusting the tank top and pulling it upwards, you found yourself glaring at the towering man for the nth time, “you’re insufferable. is this how you’re gonna win me back?”

“hey,” he shrugged, broad shoulders moving up and down with delicate ease, “worked the first time, didn’t it?”

“i was seventeen.” your eyes narrowed, “and you used to be way more handsome back then. it won’t work this time around.”

he hummed again, and within his cocky tone you could anticipate he had something to nag you with, “so i was handsome to you? that’s adorable.”

“fucking insufferable.”

“but handsome nonetheless?” and you almost threw your phone at his pretty face when he just grinned and exited the room. actually, no. you almost threw your phone when you realized that you were blushing, and fighting off a smile as he left your room.

what was this man doing to you?! ──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

19th of october, 7:58 p.m.

🍓attempt 01: no limits.

“okay, and i have no limits?” you asked again, just to ensure that you heard him right.

“yes, you do not.”

“and you’re not gonna sue me for using your money?”

“no, i will not. i don’t think i can legally.” he sighed, “do you wanna do it or not?”

“i do, but…” zoro's heavy voice kissed your ears, cutting you off, "then, stop whining. no buts, no ifs.”

“is this really how you’re gonna win me over?” mumbling, your lips fell into an easy pout, “feels more like bribery.”

“nami said the quickest way to a woman's heart is shopping. or just cold, hard cash, really. but i figured this was more romantic." tilting his face downwards, his voice dropped down to a whisper, “does it feel romantic yet?”

goddamn that freak!

your skin erupted into a violent goosebump as you felt his words against your soft skin. your face heated up as your fingers stilled against the keypad of your laptop, the home page of your favorite shopping site pulled up and resting neatly. ready to do some damage on his wallet. well, honestly, what damage? he was a well-paid nepo baby who had a personal gym and court in his house. this would probably barely feel like a pinch to him.

“again, i ask for your consent.” you asked anyways, trying to remind yourself to be a business-savvy woman who had only come to absolutely wreck his wallet. zoro declared monotonously, “i give it with full consciousness. jesus, woman.”

“okay then, no taksies backsies.” you cleared your throat in anticipation. stretching your fingers slowly as they hovered over the keyboard. his arms wrapped around your middle and you fell against his chest with a soft thud, “start already.”

“what’s even the reason for this?”

“your manager said we can’t go out, like in public. and blondie hates me enough as it is right now. so, i didn’t wanna risk taking you shopping outside.” roronoa zoro found himself revelling in your dishevelled demeanour. voice honeyed, he rasped out, “what’s wrong with my room, though? nice ‘n comfy, isn’t it?”

“I meant what is the reason for me to sit on your fucking lap?”

“oh that?” he was laying in his bed, with you atop him and your laptop atop you. you grumbled on, “and is it necessary to do this in your room? the living room is a perfectly perfect place to shop online.”

“you want me to get handsy in front of my father? that’s too much. the old man would probably die if he saw me like that.” he hummed, “not sure he’s ever even done anything. you know, given both me and ‘rona are adopted.”

you glared back at him at the shit he spewed but then your eyes widened as realization sunk in, “holy shit is he a forty year old... virgin?”

“dunno.”

“but he’s like emo, and vampirish. there’s no way he didn’t get some during the twilight era.”

“he was also the world champion at that time,” zoro reminisced, “he must have gotten girls.”

a laugh escaped you by, “zoro.” you stressed, “you’re the world champion right now. and the tally of girls you get is at a great zero.”

zoro mulled over your words before slowly shifting his pelvis so that you fell back at him unexpectedly, “not zero. got a girl on my lap right now.”

his laugh echoed yours as he held you tighter, and you tried to wriggle free, “jus’ cause you’re paying. no other reason.”

“how does it feel to lie to yourself?” he asked with mock grievance in his tone, and you tried to elbow his side to break free, “die.”

“kill me yourself, coward.”

“i will.” you admitted, still laughing as he decided to somehow tighten his grip even more firmly, “don’t. you’d look horrible in orange.”

“how dare you, roronoa zoro.” your palm struck his forearm playfully, “do not talk about my fashion choices when you shower once a week.”

“nobody had a problem with it thus far,” he answered back easily, “but if you have a problem, i suppose i could shower semi-regularly.”

“semi-regularly?” you almost coughed up a hairball, “jesus christ, i don’t think i would able to fuck you ever again.”

“liar.”

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

22nd of October, 7:43 a.m.

🍓attempt 02: the way to the heart is through the stomach (i think??)

“roronoa.”

“father.”

“what are you doing in my kitchen right now?” the man raised a careful eyebrow, staring at his dishevelled son who he had caught not a minute earlier bickering with a red-head on his phone.

“cooking,” zoro deadpanned, “i'm trying to make waffles.”

his fathers hawk-like gaze swept over the kitchen. flour sprinkled over counter-tops, some on his cheek, a batter that looked more radioactive that the what remained of Chernobyl. the older man drawled on, “and i presume you know how to cook?”

“no. she's helping.” he flashed his father his phone-screen and the familiar, scorned woman who was on video-call. when she caught sight of mihawk, she smiled, “sir mihawk, how are you?”

“just passing by. come by for dinner someday, nami.” the man deadpanned and the manager laughed, “of course. how can I refuse?”

now his hawk-like stare was trained on zoro, who stared back at his father as if they were sworn enemies on court, “what is it, now?”

“is it for her?”

“who else?”

“don’t burn my house down.”

“understood.”

and with that brief conversation, mihawk disappeared back into the mazes of his house, and zoro went back to bickering with the red-head.

“you add milk.” she emphasized, clicking her manicured nails together as she tried to guide an idiot to build the equivalent of rome, “do you not know what milk is?”

“i have enough calcium in my bones and I will not fall for scams like milk or medical insurance.”

“what?” she spluttered, “y-you don’t have insurance?!”

“when am I ever gonna need it, woman?”

“oh my god. you don’t have insurance!” and the last thing zoro saw the manager do was flip him off as she ran to some place elsewhere. possibly to get him some sort of medical insurance that he totally didn’t need. beep.

zoro’s fingers hovered over his contact list, the next stop being perona neesan 💗👻 .

“'rona.” zoro grumbled as he caught the face of perona on the other side. huge sunglasses were perched on her nose, a silky bandana flowing from her coloured hair, “awh, you remember me, zoro. finally.”

“quit that,” he mumbled helplessly before turning the back camera, “i need your help.”

“you’re committing arson at dad’s place?” she raised her sunnies so as to see the kitchen better. flour everywhere, and whatever the fuck was in that batter. kissing her teeth, she admitted, “i mean i don’t endorse violence… but that kitchen could use a makeover.”

“no. jesus, perona.” he turned to camera around to his face, “i– uh, i need to make waffles. an’ i don’t know shit. can you help or what?”

“huh?” her bug-like eyes widened impossibly wider, “yeah, obviously i can. but why are you cooking? is dad dying? and is his last wish to eat burnt waffles?”

“haha, funny.”

“wasn’t being funny. you have like... two left hands.”

“just to remind you, i’m ambidextrous.” zoro replied, poker-faced, and perona pouted, “who are you making them for, then?”

“myself.”

“liar.” narrowing her eyes, she probed further, “is it your ex? oh my god. are you guys actually together?”

“what?” zoro narrowed his eyes in return, “fuck off, ‘m not asking you for help.” he sighed, “where did you even hear about that?”

“it’s her?!” the goth girl squealed, “and you didn’t tell me?! I thought it was regular PR stuff that nami dragged you into. but she’s back? i remember how you sobbed when–”

“bye, 'rona. don’t call me back.” beep.

roronoa zoro had barely breathed when his elder sister called back. he picked it up with a groan, “what? I’m not answering your stupid questions.”

“okay fine.” she huffed, “’m not gonna ask you about your pathetic, little crush right now. keyword: right now.”

“perona.” he tried to threaten but the woman just leaned forward till her face was all zoro could see, “show me some respect, i’m older than you.”

“sorry.” the green-haired mumbled and his sister nodded in self-satisfaction, “and as far as waffles as concerned, don’t cook. you’d burn the house down. just order them in and say you made them.”

“isn’t that like, practically lying?”

“it is, yes.”

“and aren’t you gonna tell me how it’s morally wrong to do that?”

“it’s a fucking waffle, zoro. not the olympics.” she finally pulled the sunnies back to her face and carefully perched them on her nose again, “nobody cares about cheating. just win her over, and thank me later.”

“you’re a bad influence, you know that?” a small smile cracked across his face, “oh, by the way–” the sportsman quirked an eyebrow, “do you have health insurance?”

“i mean, who doesn’t?”

“me.”

“what?”

“nothing. thanks, i appreciate it.” the goth girl eyes widened all over again and zoro cut the call before her concerns could reach him.

8:55 a.m.

“you know what’s insane?” you mumbled through a mouthful, “i can swear that joanna’s bakery down the street makes these exact waffles.”

“do they?” zoro leaned forward, pouring more syrup to distract you, “that’s wild.”

“it is.” you nodded before taking another mouthful, “you know what else is insane?”

“how much of a good cook i am?” he tried, before having a bite himself.

“no.” you smiled at the way he gulped down the sweet breakfast up, “the fact that i swear i saw a brown bag with their logo in the trash, and now these waffles taste exactly like theirs.”

zoro froze, eyes trained on the mess of fried batter and syrup. he slowly looked up, “that’s insane, indeed.” he averted his gaze as you deadpanned, “you’re a terrible liar.”

“isn’t that an ideal quality though?” he tried again, “like, i could never lie to you.”

“mhm,” you nodded as a smile pressed to your lips, “try harder next time.”

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

25th of october, 10:03 p.m.

🍓attempt 03: with love, from an idiot.

“if this backfires, then what?” the man asked, and you could only make out faint noises from his phone. a faint, “if it backfires, then, you don’t get the girl, genius.” but nothing beyond that could deciphered as you stood with your ear to the door of your room.

“are you done?” you knocked at your door when the bickering on the other end ceased momentarily. the wood echoed under your faint hits as you called out again, “can I come in or what?”

there was no answer and you busied yourself with tracing the pattern of wood on the door once over. your forehead touched the cold wood, frustrated at yourself for allowing that beast to take over your territory.

zoro had waltzed into your room and declared that he was going to kick you out of your own room.

“huh?” you had mumbled, too confused at the way he tugged your arm and tried to push you outwards, “no way I’m leaving. fuck no.”

“I need like half an hour. I promise–”

“–if you intend to paint my room green, zoro.” you had barely started when he asked you to leave again. so, obviously, you both bickered for a good five minutes, got yelled at by mihawk cause you two were interrupting his wine drinking hour, and proceeded to bicker in whispers before you had to finally cave in and go out.

now, you were sitting in front of the closed door, and tracing patterns in the hope that sooner or later, your territory will be given back to you.

“yeah, come on in.” you heard the man finally yell back from the other side, and you sprung up to your feet in part-excitement, part-fear. your fingers tried to turn the sleek metal handle to swing it open. except it wouldn’t open. moving it front and back, your eyebrows bunched when the door refused to budge open.

“what the fuck?” and to your surprise the green-head on the other side yelled back, “jesus, stop trying to break open the door.”

“it won’t open!”

“because I’m trying to open it for you.” he hissed back, “and you’re pulling from the other side. stop it.”

“you stop it.”

“if you could just let me do that for you. fuck–” the door swung inwards with such abrupt, wicked force that you almost kissed the ground face-first. glaring up at the man, you seethed, “what was that for?”

“i was trying to be a gentleman.”

you straightened up, squaring your shoulders defensively, “don’t. you’re barely a fully-functioning man.”

while you were waiting for him to counter you with his regular flirting disguised as hostility, instead his face softened and he apologized, “sorry. come on in?”

“huh?” your shoulders went slack, eyes narrowing at his broad figure as you walked past him and into the room.

the lights were dim.

“what’s this?” your eyes scanned the place, he had made a pillow fort on the ground with whatever haphazard sheets and pillows you had been hoarding in the room. the tv in your room showed a still from netflix: Ten Things I Hate About You.

you bent down, thumb and forefinger raising the sheets upwards to properly see inside, you saw packs of chips and instant ramen, coke and chocolates stashed to the side.

still frozen, you found him meekly call out your name, “do you hate it? do you? you do, right?” you heard the door lock behind you, “i can undo it, it’ll take me like ten minutes tops. it is literally not a big deal, i’ll take it down.” his voice dropped down to a whisper, “jesus fuck, I told nami this was stupid.”

he knelt next to you, forearms stretched forward as if he was itching to pull the flimsy housing to shreds. your hand grabbed his, face turning to meet his shy one.

“you did this for me?”

“uh,” he hesitated, “remember, blondie said no going out. so, I thought i’d try… this?” his voice grew weak, “you hate it.”

“you did it for me?” you repeated, almost in disbelief.

he sighed methodically, “who else?”

a grin broke on your face, “i didn’t take you for a romantic, roronoa.”

he shrugged off the goosebumps that threatened to break on his body at your reaction, “pfft. whatever. it’s not a… it’s not a big deal. nami helped… so, yeah.”

“you even put on my one of my favourite movies.”

“yeah, yeah.” the sportsman stood up, walking away from you to duck inside the fort and arrange the food items. but you could see his ear-tips growing redder, coy eyes carefully avoiding yours, “you’re, uh, you’re welcome.”

“but if you’re trying to impress me.” you followed suit, “this is not gonna work.”

he turned back to stare at you. a deer in headlights. “’s not?”

“well, I know you’re not a romantic. nami surely is though, it seems.” you settled down on the comfy mattress, turning your body so that it faced the wall the tv was plastered on, “i know this won’t happen again once we’re actually dating.”

“hey, it’s not like I’m not romantic at all. see, i’ve been doing well these couple of months. i think?” he tried to defend but you cut him, “you’re off season right now. once you have your five a.m. trainings and regular matches, you’d forget I even exist. you forget to eat, to fucking breathe when it comes to your game. a whole ass human?” you found yourself scoffing, “you would give up in a day. and that’s me just speculating based on observing you from afar per these past few months.”

he fell silent, probably reeling from your accurate observation. you sighed, trying to ease the unnecessary tension you had created, “i’m not attacking you, zoro.”

features downcast, lips pulled into an emotionless straight line. he repeated, “you’re speculating based on observing me from afar per these past few months?”

you probably should have drawn the line here, probably should have said okay and turned on the movie. but you were so well-versed in the language of self-destruction that someone should arrange a fucking pulitzer for you.

“you’re a sportsman first, son next.” you prayed your voice held atleast an inch of sympathy as you did a neat, little character assassination of the poor man. “as much as I appreciate the gesture, I am not sure where lover falls on that priority list. you like the chase, the idea… that i am something grand.” you stilled, “but i’m not. i am not an olympic medal, or a grand slam title. i'm just some woman.”

“you’re not just some woman.” he breathed slowly. “i suppose you have a point. i am not a lover. my hands find the racket before they find a bouquet, my words find silence before they do declarations of love. i- i don’t how to… just love.” he repeated to plead his case.

and this was it.

you barely held your breath as the man next to confirmed just who he was. he was not a lover. he was the number one on the global charts. and how selfish had you been to demand that he be anything but that demon on court?

“but,” zoro proved you wrong. “i wouldn’t have sacrificed long days and sleepless nights for just some woman. you underestimate how much you mean to me.” his breath grew strained, words unsure as if it was the first time he was telling the truth, “five years is a long, long time to come back home and yearn for your arms.”

you didn’t turn your head to gawk at him even though every cell in you wanted to. every inch of you wanted to turn your head, grab his face in your smaller palms and ask him to confess just how much you meant to him. but you were not sure you could listen to him come up empty handed like a fish out of water. you were not sure you wanted to find out just how easily roronoa zoro could break your heart.

but as the two of you fell into silence, your eyes zeroed in on the zooming in and out title card on tv instead, “let’s jus’ watch.”

“you mean everything to me. always have, always will.” you felt his palm on yours, and you flinched at his careful touches. pulling your hand back to your chest, you felt the familiar speeding up of your heart against your ribcage, “don’t. zoro, please.”

“don’t what?” he tried to ask, tried to turn toward you with anticipation making a home in his irises and vile thoughts on his lips.

don’t what? you tried to find the answer to the very same question. don’t what? what did you want to say to him? was it “please don’t make me think you could love me all over again.” or “please don’t break my heart again.” or just a simple “don’t say another word or i’d find myself risking it all for you. and i cannot stand to be the fool who fell for you yet again.”

just a series of unfortunate ‘agains’, it seemed.

instead, you turned your body towards his, tentative hands coming up to hold his face in yours before falling back to the mattress. you raked in a forbidden sigh, the sound so loud in the eerily quite room. finally looking at him, you found yourself growing dumber.

somehow, like this – vulnerable – he looked like just another twenty-two year old. not a world champion. not somebody capable of destroying you.

“i am not sure i’m ready to get my heart broken by you again.” you confessed slowly, like a coward. “i am not sure i can celebrate my next birthday, just to beg some meaningless god above for you once more.”

“then don’t.” his eyes drifted downwards, heartsick fingers twitching as they inched closer to your warmth. his words were low, like yet another coward. “don’t ask for me back if i break your heart again.”

was it that simple?

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

26th of october, 8:09 a.m.

you woke up with open packets and stacked cups of ramen on the floor, some episode of friends blaring on the tv and zoro stirring you awake.

sunlight filtered through the window, streaming in and pouring through the linen onto the man in front you. he was pretty, achingly so. his hair was tousled, lips parted, and thick brows bunched together like he was playing a match right now, “wake up.”

“huh?” rubbing your eyes, you tried to blink sleep away but instead grew more confused the longer you ruminated about his words, “what?”

“up and runnin’.” he repeated, “i need you.”

“need me?” your face contorted to show pure, unadulterated confusion, “zoro, ‘slike eight a.m.? can’t you wait a while?”

something nostalgic stirred within you as he smiled and bent down to face you easily. did the sun always get caught against his frame like he was a deity with a chokehold on you?

his smile was easy-going, and suddenly, you were fourteen year olds planning to ‘run away’ from home because you wanted to see the world. his voice shook you out of the daze, “get your head out of the gutter. didn’t mean it that way.”

“huh?” you couldn’t even find yourself growing offended amid your sleep-infused, hazed state. “what do you mean then?”

he tugged on your arms to help you sit up, “we’re going on a road trip.”

“we… are?” your expression grew awry, “where?”

“pack up and meet me outside,” he stood up, “you’d find out once we get there.”

“but zoro, hey–” you tried calling out. but it was futile as he walked out of the room, and you stay seated in the mess of sheets and pillow and tried to make sense of what was and what is.

5:42 p.m. 🍓attempt 04: next destination: love!

zoro stared at his phone for what seemed like an eternity. your gaze shifted from him to the deserted road and back to him. the dull sun inching near the horizon skeptically as if watching you two making a fool of yourselves. the winds were warm, and your road-trip was in the hands of an absolute idiot.

you slumped back into the leather, muttering, “should’ve never let you navigate.”

“let me concentrate, woman.” he huffed as his forefinger and thumb zoomed in on the unknown streets on his maps.

“how do you ever go anywhere?! your navigation powers are in the negatives.” tone haughty, you turned around to stare at him, “what kind of grown ass man gets confused on google maps? it literally said go straight!”

“i did go straight.” he turned to stare at you, tone just as haughty. “and i have a driver usually, i don’t drive by myself.”

“you went straight?” you repeated, somewhat amused by his ability to get lost on a straight highway. you craned your head, eyes peering past the black, tinted windows to stare at the deserted road, “and we ended up here? near a ghost town?”

“hold on.” he shifted his attention to the useless app pulled up on his phone screen. his face bunched up in irritation, throwing his phone on the dash-board before shifting the gear to start moving, “no point staying in one place, let’s keep movin’ and we will eventually figure it out.”

“figure what out?” you groaned, slumping back all over again, “atleast tell me where we’re going.”

“surpr–” you cut him off, “there would be no surprise if we never reach it!”

“okay, fair.” he breathed in slowly as the SUV made its way down the deserted road, passing by curated farms only inhabited by scarecrows. he sighed, “if we don’t figure out the road by nightfall, i’ll tell you.”

10:53 p.m.

“so,” zoro avoided your heated gaze, finally admitting the truth, “guess we’re lost."

“yes. yes we are, roronoa.”

“and it’s nightfall, so, i should tell you the destination.”

“yes. yes you should, roronoa.”

“don’t use that tone with me.” he tried meekly and your eyes narrowed in response, “why? are you scared?”

“no.” he cleared his throat, trying to sound like his usual self as he looked around in the lonely diner. the wooden table was rickety, the theme of the diner felt vintage-y, but in a way that was more unused than vintage. a lone, old woman waited behind the counter as you both munched on your dinner. once done with his inspection, he continued, “but it’s unnerving. you sound like nami, and she’s a witch as far as i know. red-head, you know.”

“you have moss-green hair, roronoa.”

“witches support witches.” he emphasized, and in return, a witch-like laugh past your lips, “you should be unnerved. good, because i feel like i have no choice but to sacrifice you in a satanic ritual to go back home now.”

the old woman behind the counter looked at you with utter dread in her eyes but you were too busy stabbing your fork in your grilled cheese, “now, spill. where were we going?”

he sighed, “home.”

“home?” you repeated, “home?”

“i thought i’d take you back to our childhood home,” his voice trailed off.

“why?”

why that wretched place? the place that become bleak, repetitive once you were left all alone five years ago, once he left in the blink of an eye. you routine had become monotonous after him: badminton court, school, home, practice, home, practice, home, sleep. rinse and repeat. repeat. repeat. repeat.

pursing his lips together, he looked down at his plate, “for old time’s sake, i guess?”

“old time’s sake?”

“there was a time when neither of us hated that little, suburban town.” he grinned, “remember that park with the broken swings?”

“that shit was haunted.” you took a bite, conspiring through a mouthful, “i mean why else was it never fixed?”

he continued, “and that public swimming pool? how was every guard there a creep?”

“except dave.” you nodded in agreement, a slight smile playing on your lips, “dave was cool.”

"he liked you so much, it was stupid." zoro huffed before popping a french fry in his mouth.

“you're the one to talk. do you remember courtney?” you grinned, shoving an index in his direction, “she had suchhh a huge crush on you in middle-school. it was honestly confusing.”

“why was it confusing?”

“you looked like a kiwi,” and you laughed when his eyebrows bunched together and he almost pouted, “i believe it was you that liked this kiwi.”

“tch, that was lifetimes ago.” your voice softened as he stayed quiet, the two of you just looking at each other as if registering each other’s silence as the only, absolute truth. the knife lodged in your grilled cheese slipped past your grip and a soft clang rang out as it hit your porcelain plate. you hummed, “should’ve told me we’re going back. i would have helped you navigate, zoro.”

“’sfine.” he shook his head, right hand coming up to scratch the itch away and re-set the strands of hair, “we can just head back. if we leave now, we’d reach by dawn. it’s pointless to go back to that old town now.”

you sighed, fingers interlocking as you slumped back against the worn out seat. the booth was cold against your back, the light bulb flickering momentarily as the two of you existed in a place far removed from reality, a place where the two of you were just twenty-somethings eating dinner at a worn-out diner.

“are you done eating?” you asked once he pushed his plate away. he nodded and you found yourself tugging his arm to leave the diner.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, confused, as he trailed after you. you glanced back once, “if we keep moving forward, we’d probably figure it out, right?” you stilled, turning fully to face him, “let’s go home, yeah?”

if roronoa zoro could, he would follow you to the miserable depths of hell. what was a small town compared to that?

he nodded, “yeah.”

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

27th of october, 6:29 p.m.

“this is it, huh?” you stared at the massive suburban home in front of you. the lawn was trimmed, kept nice and clean as you two stood in front of what was once your humble abode.

your family had sold the place once you expressed that you wanted to move away to do better in your profession, and you had never had the heart to come back and check who bought the place or who didn’t.

“wanna walk around town?” zoro offered his palm, albeit a bit hesitantly, “let’s see what has changed.”

well, that small creak behind your middle school had dried up, now littered with popped soda cans and torn packs of chip. cigarette butts stuck between jagged rocks and dried leaves. the ‘haunted’ park was still not fixed, but you saw little children running around, the scarfs against their tiny frames flying behind them momentarily as they chased each other around. and the leaves on the ground stirred like they were alive under their light footsteps. the old public badminton court had been renovated, it seemed, and the streetlights had been upgraded to a softer orange-y shade rather than the harsh white you both grew up under.

“they made another mall where the theatre was.” zoro commented as you both walked by what used to be your old cinema hall.

“you remember the theatre?” you asked as your eyes raked over the looming white structure with faces of celebrities plastered onto hoardings with the bold declarations of ‘now playing’.

“of course,” he shrugged, muscled arms methodically going up and down, “we had our first date there.”

“it wasn’t a date. you told me you wanted to catch the movies and then you tried to hold my hand for the next two hours.” you emphasized, kicking the dried twigs on the sidewalk. zoro joined in, lazily kicking fallen leaves and scoffing, “perona said it was. i even bought you caramel popcorn.”

and you found yourself giggling, “you even remember the flavour?”

“i remember everything.” his tone appeared to be nonchalant, “a white tank-top with strawberries on it and a blue-wash jeans, that’s what you were wearing.”

you lips pressed together, “can’t believe you remember that.” you came up to softly poke his side, “who would’ve thought you’re a romantic?”

“yeah, yeah.” he rolled his eyes, biting down an infectious smile, “i just have a good memory.”

“good memory?” you scoffed, “how come you’re such a bad navigator then?”

“tch, i’m just a bit geographically challenged.”

you laughed as your footsteps fell one in front of the other, and he trailed behind wordlessly.

as zoro saw you walk in front of him, your dainty hands interlocking so you could stretch them overhead and the way you looked back at him to beckon him towards you, so as to follow you faster. all of it made his heart twist unnaturally in the pit that was his chest. all of it.

next, you both passed your old high-school. standing at the metallic fence, the sun dipped far below the horizon as the streetlights behind you flickered and came alive. the two of you stood behind the metallic, looking at the buildings that had seen you grow in it’s hallways. when you sighed, the air fogged up just a tiny bit, “your blue jersey from state championships, and black jeans. white adidas too.”

“hm?” zoro cocked his head to your side, and you continued, “that’s what you were wearing on our not-date.”

“you remember?”

you pressed your forehead to the metal, the cold fence digging indentures onto your forehead, “of course i remember. i actually have a good memory.”

the two of your stood in frigid silence and the nightly winds grew stronger around you both. you pulled back, turning your face towards zoro, “it’s growing cold, wanna head back to the car?”

his thumb came up to ease away the red markings on your forehead, the friction of his touches melting away the cold essence of the metal. once he was satisfied with his damage control on your forehead, he nodded, “one more pit stop, then, let’s head back.”

10:02 p.m.

the car was parked in the middle of the field where you had spent reckless evenings just like this with zoro five years prior, to the very field where you had last seen him before he left without a word.

you remembered that cruel night as if it was your whole existence. it might as well have been considering how many time you had replayed the same night in your head over and over and over again, wondering if you had done something stupid.

you had sneaked out of your home, and he had sneaked here after his practice was finally over. his hair was sweaty, boyish features coloured a brutal shade of petrified as he approached you under the night sky.

“what’s wrong?” you had asked once you had noticed his downcast eyes and his shivering hands.

“nothing.” zoro had pressed his lips into a thin smile, “’m just tired from the practice.”

“oh?” you held his palm in yours, pressing a sweet kiss to it, “don’t worry, soon you’d win the state championship and then we would have all the time in the world to hang out, right?”

maybe you should have understood it right then when roronoa zoro simply nodded and looked away you. he had never been a good liar anyways.

that night, you both had sat down on the ground. staring up at the night sky, you had traced the constellations with your finger-tips and made false promises of a candied future that never came by. the soft grass under you both had tainted your cream coloured shorts green that day. yet another cruel reminder of him, yet another proof that he and you were real, yet another physical evidence of the love that once was.

“why’re we here?” you couldn’t be bothered masking up the irritability in your voice. the raw edges of hurt cut right back your mortal body as you stepped out of the passenger seat.

“c'mon.” that’s all zoro said as he lend you a hand and helped you climb the car’s roof top.

“zoro.” you repeated sternly, but he just helped you up without much explanation. once you were perched on the metallic frame, he climbed up and your voice momentarily wobbled, “a-are we sure the roof’s not gonna break?”

“no, ‘snot.” he clarified, slowly inching closer to you till you could feel his body warmth against your arm.

tilting your face upwards, you drunk in the sight of the malevolent sky littered with heavy, grey clouds that covered the usual litter of stars; so cruel but so pretty underneath it all.

zoro pulled his knees to his chest, softly perching his chin atop them with a sigh, “pretty, isn’t it?”

“why’re we here of all places?” you pulled your knees to your chest, mirroring his actions.

“it felt wrong to leave without seeing this place once.” he admitted softly, “d’you hate it that much?”

“yes. i do.” you nodded, burying your face against the jagged, scarred skin of your knees. you hated this place, and the pair of green-stained cream shorts in your cupboard were nothing if not the proof of that.

“such a shame,” he sighed, “’s a pretty place.”

“zoro–” but he cut you off, “we’ve changed so much in these five years, haven’t we? let’s get to know each other again.” he lifted his head to look at you, “what’s your favourite hobby?”

you scoffed, “you’re kidding.”

“i’m not.”

“did perona put you upto this?” your eyes narrowed, head still tipped back to stare at the grumbling sky, “or nami.”

“no.” he stressed, “my hobby is probably playing pool now. luffy put me onto it, it‘s kinda cool.”

“i thought sleeping was your favourite past-time.” you turned to look away from the sky and at him but somehow couldn’t. you sighed, slowly admitting, “that was what you always said in interviews.”

“did you stalk me via interviews?”

you tucked your knees one over the other and straightened up, “says the man who watched every match where I got my ass handed to me.”

“i never said i did or didn’t stalk you.”

“you also didn’t say that you won’t break my heart again.” his eyes were boring into yours as you turned your face to finally find his, “you just said to not pray for you back.”

“would you believe me if i told you i won’t break your heart?”

traces of sleep lingered in his eyes, patterns from guilt long-gone-by traced onto his cheeks. you realized with a certain ache that you would probably believe this man if he told you he made the colosseum in his past life, and that he was Genghis Khan re-incarnated. but the fact that he won’t break your heart again? doubtful.

you turned your face back to the thundering clouds. they flashed a myriad of colours and loud sounds enveloped your mortal figures as they churned impatiently above you. you heaved in a breath. slowly exhaling, you asked, “when i lost women’s doubles against the boa sisters, you know what they said to me?”

you believed he knew the answer, being an interview-stalker himself. but he played along, “what?”

“they asked me if you broke up with me because I threaten your legacy as number one, zoro.” a deep sigh passed you by, “since i’m still number two, and from the looks of it they don’t think i’ll be one any time soon.” a mirthless laugh escaped your lips, “honestly, i don’t think I’ll be one any time soon.”

“do you really think i give a crap about shit like that?” zoro raised his face fully, widened eyes looking at you as if you had just accused him of skinning men alive.

“why else would you leave everything behind to be number one, roronoa?”

to you it was clear. he wanted to be number one, so, he left everything behind to be it. simple as that. he wanted to go after his dreams, so, he sacrificed everything he loved. you just happened to be unfortunate enough to be one of those things he loved. simple as that.

“i promised someone.” he finally admitted when you stayed silent, “back when i was in foster care.”

“what?” you found yourself turning your face to look at his, and the man who stared back at you seemed to be a man ravaged and hunted, like a mere prey for guilt.

roronoa zoro had never kept any secrets from you. never. not when he met you as a kiwi-looking middle-schooler at thirteen, and not when he was about to be twenty-three a decade later. no secrets other than his past in foster care. you knew mihawk adopted him when he was eleven, and perona when she was fifteen but no more than that. his past in the foster-care, that one was off-limits.

no questions, no answers.

and you had never pushed. it was something he wanted to forget and you’d be damned if you brought his demons to his under the pretence of harmless curiosity. that was it.

no questions, no answers.

then why was he speaking of it now?

“i only had this one friend. no. she was more like a sister, really.” his eyes hardened, “kuina. she was obsessed with this game, and i hadn’t even heard of it. every fucking time she got her hands on the tv to the communal room, she would turn on sports channel and tear through them till she found one playing re-runs of badminton.”

your muscles ached, and suddenly you were reminded of the air you had ceased to breath in. zoro continued, “she used to drag me to play, and then she used to beat my fucking ass at it. every fucking time. then, one night…” his voice grew thicker, like tar lodged right in his larynx, “she told me that one day, she would make it out of that shitty foster system and she would be number one.”

“somehow, seven year old me thought it would be fun to argue with her. so, i told her ‘no, i’d be number one and you’d be watching.’ she told me no. she had every right to. she was a better player than I was. she deserved this more than i do.”

“zo,” your hand found his bicep as his eyes glossed over, “you don’t have to tell me.”

but you didn’t know any player by the name of kuina, so, it didn’t take you long to guess where the story was headed. somehow, you stomach still dropped when zoro spoke the next part aloud, “she died a day later. ran into the fucking street while chasing the shuttle that the wind blew over. died on the fucking spot.”

“zoro.”

“i made a promise. a-and she was my sister.”

“zoro.” and you moved to engulf him within your arms. you felt him shudder under you, face pressed to your chest in a bleak effort to hold back tears as you held him tighter and tighter against yourself. as if your weak, mortal body could undo the past or stop him from the torment that was his own mind.

“i’m sorry.” your words paled in comparison to the feelings that brewed within the depths of your stomach. as if to reflect the words you couldn’t utter, drops of rain poured down onto you both mercilessly, as if the skies were mourning.

“i’m sorry.” you repeated, arms moving haphazardly to hold him to yourself closer. his hand moved with just as much desperation, trying to clutch onto you as if you were the only tangible thread of sanity left within him, as if your touch was all that grounded him, kept him alive.

“i- i can’t, i won’t lose you.” he mumbled into your skin, “i won’t let it happen. not again.”

he raised his face to look at you and bloodshot eyes met yours. his hair stuck to his forehead, lips quivering and you couldn’t tell which drops were tears and which rain on his soaked face.

your eyes racked over his frame. from his uncaring hair, to the eyes that had grown weary far too young, to the same pair of lips you had ached to call home, and finally the arms that you had yearned for much the same for the past five years.

“zoro?” you leaned towards him as your voice grew weaker. rain drops on your lips clung helplessly as he followed your voice, face falling forward till your foreheads were mere hairsbreadth apart, “y-yeah?”

why did your breath sound so strained? how come you could feel your heart pumping wildly against the bones lodged in your chest? how could you taste the metallic taste of blood and rain on your lips like as you heaved out ragged words?

you bit your lip to stop it from quivering helplessly. words failing to voice what not even your brain could, you asked for similar candied lies, “say you won’t break my heart again.”

words desperate, he nodded, “i won’t.”

“no,” your breath grew more ragged as each second passed you by, “no. swear on it.”

his calloused palm came to rest on your cheeks, forehead touching as he closed his eyes shut. “i swear on it. i, roronoa zoro, promise to never break your heart again.”

“and if you do?”

“you’re more than welcome to break my skull with my own racket. plummet it down really hard.”

a small smile cracked at your lips, “really?”

“promise.” he hummed. and as he leaned forward to catch your lips against his in a sickly, sweet routine, you pulled back.

he barely had the second to react before you crashed back into him. you couldn’t wait any longer. your lips against his in a clash of teeth and lips and tongue and the faint taste of rain on your skins.

“’s pouring.” he panted, words barely being processed in your lucid state, “wan’ you s’bad though. so, so fucking bad.”

the next you knew, your wet back met the leather backseat of his car.

the sportsman hovered over you momentarily. and next, all you felt was his naked skin pressed to yours, his calloused palms tracing patterns long-forgotten to your sides as he gulped down anything you had to offer. any cries, any grudges, any desires.

you pushed him away just to be able to breath, but air seemed to be the last priority on zoro’s mind as he caught your lips against his in a methodical, little game all over again. panting against your pretty lips, his fingers tried to rid you of your soaked jeans and panties. and all of it was so lewd, so unbearably lewd.

from the sounds of his skin on yours, the sound of the rain violently crashing against the tinted windows and the sounds of his desperate huffs and pants as he tried to manhandle you and get rid of the whatever unholy layers separated you from his feral touches.

“z-zoro,” you stuttered helplessly and the man that peered down at you resembled more a demon ready to fester on the last bit of your lucidity rather than the man you loved.

“c’mere.” he husked, and within moments he was under you. laying prettily on the backseat as your honeyed heat hovered only inches away from his pretty lips. as he stared up at you, his strong arms wrapped around your hips and he pulled you to his lips.

“fuck,” his eyes rolled back as he ran an experimental flick of his tongue against your core, and you flinched, already pulling back from him.

and how could you blame roronoa zoro for tightening his grip against your thighs and fully seating you over his face?

“none of that hoverin’ shit.” he declared in a series of hot pants against your drenched cunt, “let me eat my girl out properly.”

“z-zoro,” you bucked forward as his lips attached around the sensitive nub, sucking like he knew your untimely demise was his very duty. strong fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he ate you out like a man starved, like a man ravished.

it was all so messy, all so untamed, feral. just a mix of spit, your honeyed fluids and his insane determination to make you unravel at the tip of his tongue.

he sneaked in a hand, forefinger and thumb pinching the nub as his tongue delved deeper into your velvety hole. your eyes rolled back as his strokes stayed unrelentless against your heat and you found yourself falling apart at his preying touches, “oh my god, zo. ‘m gonna fuck–”

“cum f’me.” he rasped against you, the other hand coming down to smack the fat of your ass. you ass recoiled under his pressure and you jolted as he rubbed the stinging area better. hot tears pricked at your eyes as he brought down a unrelenting hand at the same strawberry-red patch of skin. the pain mingled in with the methodical strokes of his tongue and the messy rubbing from his fingers pushed you past your limit.

your walls spasmed, sickly sweet dew pooling at his lips as you bucked forward with a strangled cry in your throat, “zoro, zoro, zo.”

you weren’t quite sure if you imagined it, or if you truly felt roronoa zoro smirk against your aching cunt before pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses onto the damage he had done.

as you tried to catch your breath, zoro kissed – no, devoured – your clit. your throbbing bundle of nerves caught between his lips dangerously, he sucked on it as you bucked and keened over him, “one more. c’mon, baby.”

“no, please.” you tried to cry out but the maddened man could hear nothing over the blood rush against his ears and the ecstasy of your orgasm on his tongue. clenching his eyes shut, all he could focus was on the way you squirmed over him. trying to run away? pushing him away?

he couldn’t help but grin like a man gone far too gone because this was like a challenge, and what did roronoa love if not challenges? you were practically begging him to eat you till you cried and begged him to let you go, were you not?

“z-zo.” your voice failed you at your fourth orgasm and all you could feel was the muscle pushing in and out of your sore, aching cunt and his fingers pulling on your nipple so, so meanly. “z-zoro,” you tried again, this time without stuttering, “you’re s’mean, zo.”

“am i?” the way he sounded, you felt like only more torture was on your way, “am i so, so mean?”

you nodded, tears rolling down your pretty face as he thumbed your sore clit and cooed, “sorry, baby.”

“y-you’re not sorry,” you hips spasmed at his careless touches and you threw your head back to hold back a cry, “you’re n-not sorry at all.”

“’m not,” he admitted cockily, pulling you upwards so he could press kisses to your sore thighs, “only i get to ruin my girl.”

“y-your girl?” you sounded so out-of-it, so innocent with the way he had fucked you dumb. wobbly lips, teary eyes and hoarse voice. god, he loved you. he nodded, peering at you as if breaking it down for you, “my girl.”

pulling your quivering thighs off of him, he sat up and softly placed you on his lap. when you met his pussydrunk face, his lips were drenched off of your essence. he wiped his face off the back of his hand, then using the same hand to pull your jaw forward to kiss you senseless all over again.

his mushroom tip sat hotly against your inner thigh, smearing the glossy precum all over your soft skin. as zoro battled his tongue against yours, your nimble fingers toyed with his flushed cock-head. as you softly thumbed the slit, zoro found himself whimpering against your pouty lips, slowly pulling back.

“ah, fuck.” he breathed in slowly, eyes rolling back as you finally stroked his dick. you met his eyes definitively as you brought up your soft palm to your mouth. spitting on his soft skin, you brought it back to his angry shaft nestled against your thighs.

moving it up and down, your face dipped down to his neck to bite down on his pulse. instead of whimpering the way he was, his strong hand came to push your head harder against his tanned skin. he rasped, “harder.”

and you sunk your teeth into his skin with enough force to break his skin, just to find the man under you stutter and his white seed to coat your hand. his hips stuttered, eyes clenching shut as realization set in, “f-fuck. shit hah, i came?”

growing cocky at the way he came undone, you bit down a teensy bit harder. until you felt the sweet taste of iron on your lips and you pulled back to see a small droplet of blood beading at his neck. but before you could apologize, zoro noticed your crimson hued lips. pulling you towards him, he revered in the sweet metallic tang of his blood against your tongue. madman.

the sportsman hummed against you as he pulled your sore hips upwards and positioned his cock to nudge your slit ever-so-slowly.

“mmph, zo–” you tried to speak but his mushroom tip got caught against your clit so deliciously. moaning, he guided his dick to finally push past your hole and your jaw went slack at the sinful stretch.

hair sweaty and clinging to your skin, your head was thrown back as he pistoled his dick in with slow circular motion of his hips, and you tried to ground himself by digging your nails into his shoulders. zoro grinned, his canine on display unabashed, “feel good?”

your jaw slacked open, just for nothing to come forth other than half-coherent jumbles of his name as his tip kissed your sugary sweet spots with the urgency of a madman. shallow thrusts into your cunt only resulted in persistent prodding of his tip against your g-spot. his thumb pressed debauched words to your clit as your hips moved on their accord, with only one goal: to forget anything but his ungodly thrusts into your rueful cunt.

“feel s’good, zo. feel so, so good hah mhph–” you babbled, nodding as he moved your hips up and down to fill you up and leave you empty over and over and over again. a hand snaked upwards to pull at your roots, tipping your head back so that he could sink his teeth and brand up your soft skin just over the column of your throat.

“feel good?” he repeated, eyes almost crossing over at the crimson mark on your neck. if you felt like you were losing sanity, there was no need to feel lonely cause zoro trailed not farther behind. he laughed, bringing you down harder on his shaft, “feel good, baby? does my girl feel good?”

you nodded, eyes clenching shut as his cock massaged your gummy walls and his thumb tortured your poor, aching clit so well.

the familiar feeling built within you again, like a fire that burnt you to a crisp from within. your walls spasmed, head thrown back, drooling as roronoa zoro made it his life’s purpose to fuck you as hard as he could. to a point, where, you felt like he was just holding back to not break you.

“l-look at me, angel.” his hand squished your cheek mercilessly, pulling your face down just to press a mocking peck to your pouty, drooling lips and laugh when you jolted from the orgasm, “oh my g-god, zoro! fuck aah, hah shit shit shit.”

you slumped forward, sweaty forehead pressed to his heaving chest while he continued to fuck into your overused cunt. his thrusts grew weaker – erratic – before he painted your walls white.

“shit, baby.” the man laughed, his chest vibrating from the stuttered falsetto, “one more?”

“zo…” and the way you looked up at him so teary-eyed, shaking your head no. another challenge?

so now, of course zoro had you pressed in such a mean mating press, mumbling against your swollen kiss-bitten lips, “you’re doing so well, baby. ‘m so proud of my girl.”

“y-yeah?” you stuttered out, batting your tear-stained eyelashes so well that zoro couldn’t help but lap at the tear-drops cascading down your cheek, “mhm, course angel. take one more for me, can you?”

you nodded as if you had a choice.

his chest pressed up against yours, broad hand pulling your knees so far high so that he could plunge in and out of you so very easily. zoro panted with every slow drag of his shaft against your addictive, sugar-sweet walls because every small movement seemed to set you alight. your cunt grabbed at him hungrily, clutching him so tightly as if you refused to let him go.

managing a few more thrusts, he brought your weak hand upto his throat and pressed your hand onto his pulse. you stared at him, wide-eyed, before pressing harder. as your soft hand pushed harshly against his pulse, zoro pushed into your heat harder with a low whimper.

his hips sputtered as splashes of white painted your walls all over again.

the sportsman heaved, dipping his sweaty face down to the crook of your neck and pressing his body weight on yours. after what seemed like eons of just catching up his breath, zoro slowly pulled out and you gasped at his absence.

“are you okay?” he pressed a chaste kiss to your collarbone before trailing upwards and pressing another to your cheek. your muscles went slack under him, soreness creeping up the tendrils of your flesh as you fluttered opened your eyes, “’m tired.”

“already?” the man grinned, licking a soft stripe up your jaw. your weak hands pushed him away, groaning, “already?!”

“sorry, c’mere.” settling beside you in the cramped seat, he pulled you to his chest. humming faintly as his fingers softly caressed the damp tressed and you melted against the feel of his warm skin against yours.

the soft pitter-patter of the rain against the windows quietened, the morning mist hovering around the car like some forbidden protector and dew clung helplessly to leaves in the field. zoro pulled you closer to himself, his shallow breath against your forehead and his soft fingertips massaging your sore hips, “i think i love you.”

“you think?” your eyes fluttered open, trailing up softly to take in his peaceful expression. you bit the inside of your cheek, stomach churning as you dug your cheek against his chest and nodded, “i think i love you too.”

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

11th of november, 12:01 a.m.

“go on,” you shoved the cupcake in his direction, the candle light flickering softly and barely holding out against his stuttered breath, “for real?”

“hm,” you nodded, “make a wish, zo.”

“i don’t even have a religion.” he mumbled and you pinched the taut skin of his bicep in retaliation, “jus’ do it.”

“okay, fine. here goes nothing.” he closed his eyes. eyebrows bunching up in concentration and high cheekbones coloured orange from the weak flame. a moment passed by as the two of you stayed huddled on his bed, him praying and you looking at him.

a soft breath and the flame went out. when he opened his eyes, you smiled at him, “what did you wish for?”

“nothing,” he replied softly, calloused fingers interlocking with yours, “think i have everything i could ever need already.”

“happy birthday, zo.” you pecked him and pulled back, but he pulled you back to him.

knock, knock, knock.

“are you both done?” perona knocked at the door, “everyone’s waiting for you out, idiot.”

the next morning your twitter was flooded with the same blurry photo of you kissing zoro at his birthday party.

@/roronoaswifeyy said: yOU TWO ARE MY ROMAN EMPIRE OMG!!! @/sweatytoenails asked: IS THIS ANOTHER PR STUNT?11 OMG I CANNOT TAKE ANOTHER BREAK-UP. @/boaboaboa said: GUYS I THINK THIS PICTURE IS LEGIT, SOMEONE SAW THEM GO ON A ROAD-TRIP TOO

@/monkeydluffyofficial: very proud of zoro to be able to pull such a pretty woman without showering for days on end ❤️😃 @/dailycelebgossip: BREAKING: two-times grand slam winner and current number #1, roronoa zoro confirmed to be going out with his former flame!

@/vinsmokesanjiofficial: we will be releasing an official statement, until then PLEASE STOP TAGGING ME, YOU’RE BLOWING UP MY PHONE. AND @/ynln ANSWER MY CALLS. @/nami_bizconmgmt: like@/vinsmokesanjiofficial said, please wait for the official statement and @/realroronoazoro PICK UP MY CALLS.

zoro wrapped a strong arm around your waist. sleep lingered in his eyes, and the pattern of the pillow case was imprinted onto his skin instead, “what’re you reading?”

you giggled, “people are losing their mind over the fact that we’re dating.” you looked over your shoulder, “can’t believe a PR stunt got us here.”

“oh, about that.” he mumbled, “nami never asked me to do that, i was just feeling bold that day. paid off pretty well though, didn’t it?”

“huh?” your eyes widened, words sinking in at a much slower rate, “HUH?”

“what?”

“HUH?”

“what?” he repeated with a grin, “it worked, didn’t it?”

“YOU ASSHOLE!” you pushed at him and he just held you tighter against his chest, “mhm, love you too.”

ladies and gentlemen, this is your friendly reminder to not go back to your ex by the way! they don't deserve you and aren't roronoa zoro!

a/n: i cannot believe this has come to an end!! aaaah took me fucking forever to finish it (and i have like 5 more characters to write for ://) but im so so grateful for anyone who loved this and has shown me that love. thakyou so much you guys! i'd be making an ao3 soon enough so that it's easier to navigate. again, thankyou for keeping up with me <3 tagging: @litlebruh @mist-ixx @briezy04764 @otkuhotgirl [the credit for feral!zoro goes to her] @mars-mizuko @florallyarranged @ayumitho @lyany2k @dietcokefizz @kokanee-readinglist @angelsforever999 @rengokushuaige @imlikeacoffeeconnoisseur @gojoistetti tysm for reading!! you all were so incredibly nice that im sobbing :')) i hope y'all enjoyed this! much love, vix <3 m.list

#the op aus series <3 #op au #one piece #op #opla #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro smut #zoro x reader smut #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader smut #zoro smut #zoro angst #one piece angst #one piece smut #opla smut #op smut #zoro opla #one piece zoro

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fbs-fc-ur-mommy · 11 months

Text

Mature themes, use of drugs, shotgunning, intercourse, and mention of smoking and drinking.

--------------------------------------

You went to your usual meting site, an abandoned house near the train tracks. Simon was waiting there, he texted you after you finished your school.

You were exited to meet him there, maybe he could share his cigarettes with you again or better some sweet alcohol.

As you arrived there you entered the house, seeing two figures not one, it was Simon and someone you didn't knew but looked familiar. The brunette looked awful to Sophie. His outfit was an black one with white lines and the text EA 45. The man looked at you then turned to Simon.

-I'll leave, call me anytime when you want you know.

-Alright old man. Simon said, playfully tapping the man shoulder.

After he left you asked who that was.

-Oh, Him? His name is David, he sells drugs, I wanted today you to try it out.

-Drugs? You asked with a little fear. Simon you know that it's almost night time, if my parents sees my high they -

-You can stay at my house today, I'm alone for a few days - he cut you off.

He grabbed you hand and guide you to the stairs where you two would've use them as chair. He lighted up the joint and smoked, inhaled it and then exhale it with an smirk. He gave it to you which you looked at him with fear.

-Hey, [Name ] if you don't wanna do it-

-It's not that Simon! I never did this before, I'm a little afraid...

Simon looked at you with sympathy, you, an person with good monthly income, good grades and respectful reputation. Someone like you shouldn't hang out with someone like him, yet you did it. He knew he will fuck you up, destroy you. Your parents always warned you about him. He always told himself to stop hanging with you. To stop before it's too late. He already fucked up by teaching you how to skip classes, steal, smoke and drink. Stop it before it's too late. He thought about it night and day. Yet your eyes begged him to not leave you, to teach you and maybe more fucked things.

An idea crossed his mind and shared it to you.

- You want to try - shotgunning? What's even that? Simon do you plan to kill me? You asked him sarcastically, but it was true that you didn't know what was shotgunning.

Simon blushed at the idea of explaining it, yet he got the courage to do.

-It's basically blowing smoke via the mouth into another person.

-You want us to that?

-I mean only if you're comfortable...

You thought about it, it's basically kising right? But maybe Simon was just nice to help you... There was always an small tension between you two but maybe it was all in your head. You nod and Simon smiled to you. He put his joint again to his chapped lips and dragged an much longer drag than usual. Damn you Simon, you want to put me in the fucking hospital don't you?

While you were thinking you gasped when Simon hand grabbed your chin, then he lowered himself to your soft lips. His cold touch making you shiver, his rough lips to your soft ones maked you go feral, hardly controlling yourself from actually kissing Simon for real.

The hot smoke blowed into your mouth and eventually into your lungs maked you immediately light headed, the burning sensation in your throat maked you tearing up tears. But overall it was an nice felling.

Simon looked down at you, smirking he then drag again from the joint, not giving you an change to adjust to the felling. His lips joining you again. His hand who rested to your chin, his thumb started caressing your cheek.

He pulled away admiring your flurstrated form. You looked like thinking, staring and making holes with your eyes into the floor beneath. Suddenly he felt an hand grabbing the back of his neck, soft lips chasing his rough one's.

You pulled away in fear when you realised what you did. He looked shocked. He didn't even kiss back. He only flinched back when you kissed him. That's it. He's gonna tell everyone that you sexual harrased him, your parents will hear about it and the worse - will kick you out.

-Simon, I'm so fucking sorry - you thought of an excuse, was this because of you being high?

-[Name]...

You feared the worst.

-I was only surprised...

Then two hands grabbed your face, lips crashing into each other, tongue already exploring each other mouth's.

You didn't knew when your bottom clothes disappeared, but the only thing you knew was your face being pushed into the wall in front of you, the brutal truths making your legs shake, your tears leaving an uncomfortable felling on the face, salty taste from the tears in your mouth.

-S-Simon please! Slow down! - you begged, over stimulation making you cry and cry.

Simon looked down where your bodies would meet , your ass cheeks being red from his hands abusing them, his palm print being so pretty there. He wanted more skin to feel so he brought you up, his chest to your back and your head resting back to his shoulder. He bought one of your leg up, the position making him enter more deeply. He stayed inside you an little, not wanting things to end too soon. His left hand grabbing your face to kiss you, which you thought it would be an affectionate gesture, which wasn't when Simon suddenly started fucking you again, more brutal than before, making you cry into his mouth, more tears wetting his face too.

He finally came inside with an grunt, your legs giving up, which he allowed both of you sliding down into your knees to take breaths. He was soo tired too that he didn't bother to pull out. Only breathing could be hear, Simon clothed body hugging you from behind, defending you from the cold night air. You wanted to say something when an train passed by, muffling any noise so you waited.

-Simon if this was only an one night stand please leave and never see me again if it wasn't stay with me.

Simon was shocked by what you've said but happy at the same time.

-[Name]... - he groaned like he was tired to talk too. What you want us to be?

-Simon, let's be lovers.

When Simon heard that he knew the he fucked up, fucked you up too. He knew that your relationship would be forbidden. He knew that someone will leave broken. He knew all. Yet he decided to risk it all and have you.

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Repost from my ao3 acc

#cry of fear #simon henriksson #cry of fear sophie #simon cry of fear #afraid of monsters #david leatherhoff #simon henriksson x reader #simon henriksson smut #smut #shotgunning #tw drugs #sex and drugs

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seravphs · 1 year

Text

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO SATORU x FEM READER

“What I want from the river is what I always want: / to be held by a stronger thing that, in the end, chooses mercy.”

wc — 1.5k

tags — quote from Advantages of Being Evergreen by Oliver Baez Bendorf, title from the Louvre by Lorde, feral Gojo, kidnapping, NPC death

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” Gojo asks as you’re lying in bed, whispering to each other before you fall asleep as you often do. It’s a strange question, but not worse than other ones he’s asked before.

“I’m not sure…once I helped Shoko steal cigarettes from the local konbini because she wanted to try the delinquent life, but I left money behind when she wasn’t looking.”

He laughs so hard tears pop into his eyes, probably more at you than with you, but you don’t care. You’re as gone for him as he is for you, and that means humiliating yourself for a chance to hear him laugh is an honor you’d accept over and over.

“What about you?”

“You don’t want to know,” he says, hand rubbing your stomach lightly. He can’t help the urge to touch when he sees your pajama shirt ride up. It makes you squirm, his long pale fingers stroking over the tender skin.

He likes it. Something about seeing you belly up - vulnerable, trusting, ready to be plundered - speaks to the worst instincts in him. He never pretended to be a good man.

“No, seriously,” he shakes his head when you pout. You’re a little annoyed by the unfairness of it, after all, you had shared yours with him. “I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. You really don’t want to know, especially before you fall asleep.”

You’ve never really thought about it before, but Gojo is a bit of a monster, isn’t he?

“Hey,” someone taps your head lightly. “Keep her awake.”

“Is she fucking dying? Hello? Are you dying?”

It makes sense for them to ask. Your eyes keep fluttering shut, but you’re not dying. You were just reminiscing on the past.

“Idiot!” There’s a yelp from somewhere in the room. “I told you not to hit her so hard!”

“I thought she could take it! That’s Gojo Satoru’s girl!”

That hurts more than any of your injuries. How embarrassing, to be caught off guard. When Gojo rescues you, he’s going to make fun of how easily you let yourself get captured.

“Is he coming soon?”

“Why, you scared?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course I’m scared! It’s Gojo Satoru!”

“Good,” comes a familiar voice. “You should be.”

You open your eyes. Gojo looks like Gojo, which is to say-

Impeccable. Mischievous. Divine.

A smile flickers across your face even in your condition.

“Took you long enough,” you croak.

“Don’t move!” One of your guards is holding a knife to your neck. If you had the energy to, you’d sigh at the naïveté. “I’ll kill her!”

In the blink of an eye, Gojo’s by his side. He wrenches his hand off you with nothing but brute force, without even using a technique. You take the dropped knife and plunge it into the man. It’s only right to return the favor. Even that one movement takes so much out of you. You’re shaky on your feet.

“You’re stronger than this,” Gojo chides even as he pulls you into him, supporting your weight. You slide forward limply, letting your chin hook over his shoulder. He hoists you up with one arm to carry you.

You know he won’t hear any excuses. When you’re back on campus and fully recovered, it’s going to be hours of training before he lets you go on another mission on your own again, regardless of the fact that you were set up.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs into your ear. “I’m going to take care of the rest.”

Then the screaming starts. It dies as quickly as it began. You peek up at him. The look in his eyes is terrifying. He doesn’t look all human - or all there. There’s a thirst for blood in him, a debt to be paid.

“Is it over?”

“Almost, sweetheart. Just give me a minute.”

“Please,” you hear someone begging. You think it’s the man who confessed to being scared. It’s so like Gojo to save him for last. Those who know their own place should be rewarded, after all.

“I have a message for Suguru,” Gojo says casually. The guard relaxes a little in his hold. He knows that means he’s getting home. “Tell him he doesn’t need to hurt her to get my attention.”

The guard starts to open his mouth, and then Gojo tightens his grip. “I changed my mind.”

He’s dead before a second has passed.

You don’t remember getting back to campus, but you remember Shoko giving you a Hello Kitty band-aid after she patches you up.

“Just got them,” she says, rattling the little can. “Satoru dropped them off. Says he wants me to use them on Megumi. I don’t have any stickers, so this is all you’re going to get from me.”

She pats your back when you hug her.

“Okay, okay,” she says with a laugh. “I get it, I’m amazing. Satoru wants to see you when you’re done, by the way. Think he’s hanging around the training yard.”

You give her a pained look. “Please, no.”

“Oh yes,” she says cheekily.

When you get there, Gojo is pacing the training grounds like a chained animal. His head snaps up when he sees you. Relief spreads over his face before he whisks it away.

“Good, good,” he nods. “There you are. I was starting to think Shoko was losing her touch.”

“I was just making conversation,” you say, walking over to him. “Some of us are polite, you know.”

“I’m polite.”

“You’re so cute when you’re delusional,” you say, leaning forward to give him a peck on the nose.

He scrunches his nose up, never quite sure how to respond to your overt affection before he just takes it.

“You can call me names after you beat me once,” he says, hefting a wooden staff in hands. He tosses you another one.

“Did you steal these from Maki?”

“Don’t try to distract me,” he scolds. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Come on,” you wheedle. “I’m not in the mood.”

“I must not have trained you well enough if you’re getting taken down that easily,” Gojo teases.

“Don’t play the all knowing teacher with me,” you say. “I’m not Megumi. I knew you when you were struggling with Infinity.”

“Three rounds,” he promises, “and we can get food after. Just give me three.”

You’re smarter than the cronies Gojo just annihilated for you. It’s because you know the cardinal rule of facing Gojo: never expect to win. All you’re trying for are one or two hits.

You give him the first one. Then, right when he’s in your space, you lunge forward, tapping your staff against his shoulder. It touches -

And he doesn’t flinch.

“Cheater! Turn off Infinity!”

“I never said I was turning it off,” he says, returning to his starting position. “I’m going to be serious now. Get ready.”

“Okay,” you laugh, and then you’re flat on your back. Gojo leans over you. He looks the same as he did during the earlier fight, his teeth bared. It’s the kind of expression that belongs on him, blood on his hands and eyes like that of a god.

You can’t stop staring, devouring the image of him even when it shakes something in you. As much as your animal instincts are cowering right now, telling you to roll over in submission, it feels strangely good. You know Gojo would never hurt you. To be caught in his grip like this, still knowing you’re safe despite being able to feel all of the power that thrums through him does something for you. Your breath catches.

“Oh,” he says. “I thought so.”

You blink at him, completely and utterly confused as to what he’s blathering about now. Sometimes the only way to deal with Gojo is just to let him run his course.

“I know it’s the first time you’ve seen me-“ he gestures vaguely in the air, which does nothing to clarify the matter for you, “but it doesn’t have to change anything. Just forget it happened, and I’ll tone it down. You’ll never see me like that again.”

“Babe,” you say, patiently in a tone you usually only reserve for the students. “What are you talking about?”

“I know I went a little harder than I normally do on those curse users, but I was just worried about you! I’m not normally like that-“

Lies. He totally is, and you know it. It makes you laugh at him.

He grabs you by the chin, his big palm covering your mouth in an attempt to shut you up. You know it annoys him a little, to see you so lighthearted when he’s so tense. Must be hard to get a dose of his own medicine.

“Oh, Gojo,” you say, unbearably fond even through a mouthful of his flesh. “I’m not scared of you - I’m scared of how much I want you, even at your worst. I’ll never look away from what you are.”

“Okay,” he says softly. “Good.”

“Good?”

“I like the part of you that needs me,” he says, and it’s more of a confession than anything he’s ever given you.

#sera writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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frenchkisstheabyss · 9 months

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♰ ɄⱠ₮Ɽ₳ Ø₦Ɇ ♰

♰ Pairing: vampire!hyunjin x vampire!chubby!reader

♰ Genre: horror/angst

♰ Summary: A new drug's turning vampire's feral and when Hyunjin uncovers a plot to pin it all on you, he's determined to make your enemies pay even if he puts himself in danger in the process.

♰ Word Count: 2.3kish

♰ Warnings: mentioned drug use (it's synthetic blood), blood, burning alive, mentions of violence, strong language, stabbing, vampires obviously, low key psychotic love, pet names (baby, honey).

♰ A/N: I created this to have two parts. This one is more action-oriented and the second will be more romantic. I'm just trying to do my part to give us chubby badass vampire babes whose men love them enough to commit murder, ya know?

The underground club scene can grow quite boring for a vampire. Your first few blood raves make you feel more alive than you ever did when you actually had a pulse. But the ones that follow? They become so mundane and predictable that not even the introduction of human drugs can save them from losing their luster.

Enter a new drug, Ultra, synthetic blood by vampires for vampires. Guaranteed to fuck you up. One dose opens your eyes to a world far beyond your own. It mutates your cells. Alters your brain chemistry. Turns you into a brand new beast. The power you gain is addictive and the things you’ll do to hold onto it, the sins you'll commit, you don’t even want to imagine.

But you must imagine them. You are the one who created Ultra, or so they say, and some incredibly powerful people are looking to give you a taste of your own poison. Tell me, are you prepared to die? Again?

Distorted metal music ricochets off of the stone walls of the club with the force of a dozen automatic rifles firing all at once. The occasional rapid flashing of strobe lights illuminates the darkness, giving the few hundred bloodsuckers on the dance floor the closest thing to a sunrise that they can tolerate. Everyone dances except for one weasel of a man. A dealer slinking through the crowd in his worn leather jacket handing off vials of Ultra to this person and the next.

“I won’t have to do this for long,” he tells his friend at the bar when he stops to grab a drink. This friend, a fellow scumbag, grins as he knocks back a shot, completely unphased by the recent carnage caused by the shit his companion has been peddling. “The council says once I do this they can get rid of her and make room for me.” “Make room for you? Tell me you don’t really think those rich fucks would ever let us into their secret society”

The dealer nods to the bartender to give him his usual, “See, that’s your problem. You think too small. That’s why you’ll never get anywhere.” His friend only rolls his eyes, turning to check his surroundings before he leans in to offer some advice. “I’d be quieter about this if I were you. If she finds out you’re trying to set her up she’ll sick her dog on you then you won’t get anywhere either.” “Fuck her” the dealer spits, finishing off his drink, “She can sick her dog on me. I’ll just have to put him down.”

Agitated, he slams his glass down on the bar, nearly shattering it. “I’m supposed to be afraid of her?” he mutters, shoving the other man aside to turn down a winding hallway that leads to the back door. He stops in front of the door to dig for a cigarette, wincing at the brightness of the few working lights that dangle from the ceiling of the desolate hallway. The air shifts, growing colder around him, but he’s much too busy fidgeting with his lighter to notice the change. Too lost in the ecstasy of that first drag to notice the shadow along the wall closing in on him. “I don’t even know why they have to do all of this. Should just kill her. She’s just some stupid b—”

An ice pick pierces his neck from behind, taking every twist and turn between his muscles before emerging on the other side. The cigarette falls from his lips, extinguished by the tiny pool of blood forming in vivid red on the concrete floor. “Just some what?” Hyunjin questions, rolling the ice pick between the man’s vertebrae. The sound of metal splitting bone is music to Hyunjin’s ears. “Speak! What were you going to call her?” The man opens his mouth but no answers tumble out. Only blood and desperate gasps for air. Tears begin to form in his eyes as the reality of his helplessness sets in.

Hyunjin leans over the man’s shoulder, his large hand reaching around to cover his mouth. “I should’ve known you’d have nothing interesting to say” he sighs, almost sounding disappointed, “You’re just some stupid bitch.” The ice pick slips out smooth as butter, finding a new home in the man’s left lung followed by his right. Hyunjin moves in a blur of darkness, leaving the man spinning in circles trying to predict where the next attack will come from.

Blood pours from a dozen different holes scattered across his body. He reaches out to grab the collar of Hyunjin’s expertly pressed suit only to pull back a fistful of nothing. The coldness, he feels it now as he drops to his knees, his vision darkening. One final stab, inches from his heart, is all he feels before the bulbs in the ceiling pop leaving him in the dark.

“Oh, Jinnie, look! Here you are!” you sing from the comfort of a rose infused bubble bath. You ease down further into the steamy water, the rose petals dancing at the surface cloaking your naked body. “Pisces,” you begin to read off from the astrology book you’ve been flipping through, “As Jupiter aligns with Neptune in your house of love, you mustn’t shy away from sharing your true feelings with your partner—” Hyunjin kneels beside you, tilting your book back to view the title. He cracks a smile, “A Girl’s Guide to Astrology 2023. After a hundred years, you still believe in that stuff?” “Mmm, maybe” you shrug, running your black manicured nails through his slicked back hair.

Resting his head on the edge of the tub, Hyunjin closes his eyes and lets you massage his scalp. He could stay like this for hours, having you read to him by candlelight as your fingers melt away all that plagues him. “What are your true feelings? You seem troubled.” “No trouble, my love.” Tossing the book to the floor, you raise his head to look at you. It never fails, even after a century together, that looking into his eyes makes you want to melt. Beyond the beauty of his features lies a softness reserved only for moments like this. For moments with you. A softness that most men of your kind lacked even before they turned.

“You’re lying to me, Jinnie. What’s wrong?” One brush of your thumb across his cheek is all it takes to break his defenses. “You know that Ultra stuff that has everyone turning feral?” You nod, not daring to ask if he’d taken it. He’d never touch something like that. Not your Jinnie. Not when he’s seen firsthand what it does. It’d be hypocritical to say that neither of you lusts for violence. But violence directed towards people who don’t deserve it? Tearing the limbs from innocent lovers in the park? Slaughtering whole families? There’s no pride in that. “I caught the guy who’s been dealing it. He’s upstairs. I think—” Hyunjin pauses, bracing for your reaction, “I think the council plans to say that you made it.”

Your iris pulses an electric red, your heart pumping a pure searing hatred through your veins. The council. Five decrepit bastards who rule their own sectors of the city under the guise of keeping the peace between vampires and humans when in reality it’s all about the money. That’s all it’s ever been about. They’re criminals, the same as any mafia you’ve ever known, and you worked your ass off for your seat among them. They could never quite accept that a woman infringed upon their little boys' club. They would’ve put a stake through your heart a long time ago if it weren’t against their own bullshit rules.

Rule #1: We never kill our own. The Consequence: Death.

Ultra doesn’t just make vampires kill humans. It makes them kill each other. And finally, when their bodies can’t mutate anymore, it kills the host too. If they can pin this on you then you’re dead. You, every vampire under your protection, and Hyunjin—

Not him. Never him.

You rip through the halls of your sprawling mansion, hearing Hyunjin’s voice as if it were far away at the end of a long tunnel. “Cover up at least, honey” he insists, throwing a flowy silk robe around your wet body. You slip your arms in, not missing a beat as you grab a blade from the wall on your way to the third floor. You can hear shallow breathing as if it were your own. The stench of whisky and blood floods your senses the closer you get, nearly making you nauseous. Kicking the door into your spare bedroom, you come upon the man plotting your death.

He’s chained to the bed, his clothes tattered where wounds from the ice pick have slowly begun to heal. You descend upon him, your blade pressed to his throat, fangs bared. “Tell me everything” you demand, realizing at once that you’ve seen him before. Nowhere in particular. Here and there. In places you never thought much of. Had his appearances there really been a coincidence? No, there was a reason. He’s been watching you all this time. How didn’t you see it? “No” he refuses, licking the dried blood from his bottom lip, “Kill me and you’ll burn for it. You both know that!”

You gasp, sitting up on top of him, “Oh no, baby, did you hear that?” Hyunjin leans against the wooden bedpost, his reappearance startling the man. “I heard. Kill him and we’ll burn” Hyunjin dramatically cowers in fear, “I’m so scared. We better be careful, huh?” “Mmhmm” you agree, inching the blade away from the man’s neck and burying it in the mattress beside his head. “Jinnie, how long do you think until sunrise?” Hyunjin makes his way to the window, peeking out at the breathtaking landscape that surrounds your home.

It’s early enough in the morning for the sky to still cling to hues of dark blue as the sun creeps up along the horizon. “Half an hour maybe.” “Would you be a dear and open the curtains? It’s so dark in here.” The man’s eyes dart back and forth, watching your smile grow more devious with each curtain Hyunjin ties open. “Wait, you can’t—” the man panics, struggling against his chains. “I know. I know. We can’t kill you!” you groan, climbing off of him, “But we’re gonna. I mean, thanks to you they’ll probably try to kill me anyway, and since you won’t answer any questions you’re useless.”

Hyunjin takes you by the hand, escorting you to the door. “You go to bed. I’ve got it from here” he whispers, kissing you on the forehead. You cross your arms defiantly, refusing to move an inch. “No, we’ll finish this together like we do everything else.” Hyunjin’s arms come around your waist, pressing your plush body to his. “I always take care of you, don't I?” he asks, his hands tracing your figure. “Always.” “Then go and wait for me, okay? This won’t take long.” You glance over at the man on the bed, your mind racing with all the things you could do to him. All horrors he’d very much deserve.

“Fine but hurry. You've been gone all night. I’ve missed you.” Your lips meet, sparking something that sets your body ablaze in a different way. One that has you tugging at the buttons on his shirt as your tongue teases the sharp points of his fangs. You don’t want to break away and neither does he. Once Hyunjin has his hands on you everything around him loses its importance. The only thing his body longs for—needs as if his survival depends upon it—is you. But he manages to turn you loose for your own safety, locking the door when you leave to be extra safe.

Without another word, he circles the room slowly closing each curtain he opened only moments ago. “What happened? Change of heart?” the man taunts, trying and failing to get a rise out of him. Hyunjin grabs the vintage French parlor chair positioned by the window and drags it to the darkest corner of the room. He sits in silence, his face void of emotion, his eyes unblinking. Hyunjin’s focus is no longer on his prisoner but on the evolution of the light that breaks through the curtains.

Minute after agonizing minute passes until the fear of the unknown forces the man to ramble off everything he can think of. Insults, confessions, pleas for mercy. None of it gets the slightest reaction until the faintest sunbeam casts its light on the carpet. Hyunjin rises, locking eyes with the man for the first time as he approaches the sunbeam. “My wife always said we all have special abilities. Things that make us unique,” he says, rolling up his left sleeve. “I didn’t believe her at first but then one day I got caught in the sun.”

Hyunjin shoves his forearm into the sunlight, his bare skin exposed to what should be eating through him like acid. “Nothing, see? It takes a while for me to burn but you—I have a feeling you’ll strike up like a match.” “No, please! You don’t understand!” Hyunjin smirks, twirling over to the window, “You don’t understand. You told my baby she’d burn. You first!” Hyunjin tears open the curtain nearest to the bed, letting the sun shine in at full power. “What a beautiful morning” he hums, sliding the others open to the tune of screams that would wake the dead.

The man on the bed is burning, his skin bubbling like he’s being deep fried. In a sense he is. The heat from the sun is cooking him. He feels every pop. Every sizzle. Tiny fires ignite, charring his skin. Hyunjin watches on, the steam rising from his own skin barely a tickle. He won’t leave this room before he’s seen him burnt to a crisp, reduced to nothing more than a charred corpse for him to deliver to the council as a warning of sorts.

Threaten what he loves and this is only a taste of the fate that awaits them.

#stray kids x reader #hyunjin x reader #stray kids x female reader #hyunjin x female reader #stray kids x chubby reader #stray kids x you #plus size reader #hyunjin x you #stray kids au #stray kids angst #hyunjin angst

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bettyfrommars · 1 year

Text

I'm on Fire

older!biker!Eddie Munson x fem!artist!Reader

90's au//Part 6

🚨18+ Only, MDNI, smut, dry humping, thigh riding, squirting (not reader), implied smut, mild violence, jealousy, alcohol consumption, reader feels betrayed (not by Eddie), smoking cigarettes, mention of tattoo placement on reader, biker gang, mention of poverty, loved one in hospital, fear of loss, mention of sex with people other than reader and Eddie Word count: 6.8k

In the aftermath of the adrenaline rush of Fight Night, Eddie disappears again to take care of a family emergency. The two of you share another intimate moment and have a nice night together just before everything starts to unravel. The connection you two share, and everything in your little world, is about to be tested.

Series Masterlist here

A/N: This is turning into the biker!Eddie Munson soap opera I didn't know I needed. I have lots of storyline ideas ahead for this, hopefully I can execute them as well as I want to. As always, thank you for reading ❤️‍🔥 It's difficult to catch errors when I edit myself, but I do my best. Spotify playlist: here

Eddie was holding your face between his hands, kissing you deep, his tongue flicking in every so often to make contact with yours. This is really happening, you tell yourself, sliding one hand up into his hair, the roots damp with sweat, jaw muscles stretching to take each other deeper. He pulled back a few times to plant kisses on your mouth, the tip of your nose, and then he pressed his lips to your forehead and hovered there while your hands slid up his slick chest, his body radiating heat. The DJ played something by Jane’s Addiction and the world seemed to continue on around you, and then your finger began to trace the intricate bat tattoo on his chest, the mouth of it was ancient, feral, and dripping blood.

He leaned back to make eye contact with you and he winked, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Damn, you’re so beautiful,” and then he cleared his throat and dropped one hand from your face as Steve stepped up near him.

“Sorry to interrupt, man, but I need a minute,” Steve Harrington said, cocking his head to the side.

Eddie squeezed your hand and told you he’d be right back while he motioned for Steve to walk with him. “Follow me back to my place. I need to put a shirt on.” He turned around when they were a handful of steps away to look at you again, and of course you were still staring at him; he stifled a smile.

Even though the fights and the entertainment were over, the crowd hadn’t thinned out very much. The music had started back up and groups were headed back for more beer. You took the opportunity to go over to the fence and spit out some of the blood still in your mouth, and Katie came over to ask if you were okay, her hand rubbing your back.

“Let me see,” she said, referring to you your mouth injury. She winced when she noticed that the lower part of your jaw was swollen. “Not a dull moment in this friendship. Sip of beer?” She asked, holding her cup up.

The thought almost made you gag for some reason and you shook your head. “Where’s Robin and Jeff? Are they okay?”

Katie tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and fixed the neckline of your shirt. “Jeff is somewhere with that young biker stud, and Robin went to bring the jeep around. You have everything you came with? The clown car is leaving.”

You hesitated, because you didn’t want to leave, but you had to be at work early the next day, and you needed to get some ice on your face to keep it from getting worse. “Sure,” you looked across the parking lot. “Just let me find Eddie and say goodbye to him.”

By the time the two of you took a few seconds to look for Jeff and made it through the crowd, Eddie was no longer at the compound.

“Munson? He left,” one of the Hell’s Belles with short black hair told you, a cigarette bouncing between her lips.. “He took off a few seconds ago. Like a bat out of hell.”

To say you were disappointed would be an understatement, but there had to be good reason. Plus, you knew the guy was exhausted; he wouldn’t just take off on a joy ride for the hell of it.

Steve had no clue where Eddie went.

“But, you were the last one to talk to him, right?” Your tongue licked out to feel the rawness of your lower lip. “What did you say to him?”

“Nothing,” Steve bleated, arms out in a shrug. His hair was usually slicked back and tight, but because of the brawl, it was adorably messy with a strand hanging down over his eyebrow, “Nothing that would make him bolt. I was just telling him which guys still owed money from the fights, but he didn’t really give a shit.”

You wondered if he lived the double life of a super secret agent: the 007 of bikers.

“He did get a phone call,” Steve offered. “But I didn’t hang around to hear who it was.”

Parked out at the curb, Robin honked her horn, and it looked like Jeff was already in the jeep with her.

Erika and her friends walked by, throwing you dirty looks as they went, but you really didn’t give a shit about them in that moment.

“Why is Robin in such a hurry all of a sudden?” Katie asked Steve, arms crossed over her stomach as the three of you shuffled to the gate at a trot.

“We hired a babysitter for tonight, a neighborhood girl, really nice, but Robin’s always annoyingly nervous to leave Ollie with new people.”

Robin honked again, even though she could see that you were all moving in that direction, but clearly not fast enough. You turned in a circle, taking one more look around for Eddie before you got in the jeep, but he had officially evaporated.

-------

By the next afternoon, you still hadn’t heard from Eddie, and so you had your other assistant watch the front of the gallery while you hid in the back room to call his place, only to find that there was no answer. The first unromantic gift you planned to get for him was an answering machine.

Robin, Katie, and Oliver showed up to the gallery event looking adorable, after you encouraged them with talk of fresh crab legs and expensive goat cheese from France you could barley pronounce. Steve was working at the tattoo shop, but Oliver looked extremely dapper in red trousers, a black, short sleeve button down shirt and a red bow tie. He was still getting used to you, so he was on the quiet side, but he showed an intense amount of interest as you explained the mediums that were used in some of the artwork.

“Ollie loves to paint and draw, don’t you Ollie?” Robin asked him, but when you made eye contact to hear his answer, he shyly tucked his chin. Toward the end of their visit, though, there was a tiny finger tap on the side of your leg, and you looked down to find two big brown eyes like saucers staring up at you from under long, dark lashes. The boy was irrefutably Steve’s clone.

He curled his hand a few times, motioning for you to bend down, closer to him. “That one is my favorite,” he told you, pointing to one of the really loud, colorful abstract pieces.

“That’s my favorite too,” you whispered, in all seriousness, which afforded you an impish smile and a few consecutive nods of the head before he traveled back to take Robin’s hand.

Katie held her wine glass to her lips to muffle her words as she leaned closer to you. “Judith is looking exceptionally MILF this evening, in a Morticia kind of way.” She was referring to the owner of the gallery, who only popped in once in a great while to boast her importance in the community. Just at that moment, Judith, with her black hair styled in a short, severe asymmetrical bob, made eye contact with you and offered one of those unreadable, passive-aggressive expressions that always made your mind scramble to figure out what you had done wrong. Nothing, you reminded yourself, you’d done nothing wrong. Except, maybe, steal a lover away from one of the wealthiest women in the state, who also just happened to be one of Judith’s country club pals. Had Charlene put the pieces together and realized who you were and where you worked? It wouldn’t be a herculean feat; it was a small town and there were only a handful of galleries in the area. But suddenly, it dawned on you, that it probably wasn’t the brightest career move to make, being that much of your current livelihood depended on the support from people in Charlene’s circle.

All the same, who sits around fretting over a reputation or a career when you could be with Eddie? Definitely not you.

“Still no word from Batman?” You asked Robin as the three of them headed for the door.

Robin pressed her lips together so that her mouth became a thin, pensive line, the silver ball from her lip ring sliding to one side, and she shook her head. “No, and I haven’t been able to get a hold of Wayne either, so we’re going to drive by his place once we leave here.”

You’d be at the gallery for another hour after the event was over to clean up, and so you gave Robin one of their business cards with the phone number on it. “Please let me know what you find out?”

When you said the final goodbyes, it was dusk, and you poked your head out the door to watch them trot off down the sidewalk: Oliver in the middle, with Katie and Robin on either side, holding his hands. At one point he jumped and they swung him a few feet, giggling as he went. You weren’t much of a crier, but for some reason, the sight made tears well up in your eyes.

Jeff had the weekend off, but you found out from your other assistant, Holly, that Judith had gone home, and the news made your shoulders drop with relief. The sidewalk was bustling when the two of you locked the doors, busy with couples and friends coming in and out of the various bars and restaurants on your street. There was that buzz of spring time excitement in the air; people coming out of their caves after a long winter, ready to shake off the cobwebs and show off their pedicures.

You told Holly to take home whatever she wanted from the leftover spread of food. “You can head home, I’ll finish the rest of this up,” you assured her. Holly had just turned 21 recently, and you knew she was aching to get out and enjoy her active social life. You, on the other hand, were daydreaming about a quality night stretched out on the sofa after the events of the previous evening. Holly went out the back door, and you stayed to watch and make sure she got to her car safely before locking yourself into the building, and that’s when the phone rang.

The floor was extra smooth in the back hall, and you slipped a bit as you quickly spun around, pushing yourself off the wall, arms pumping to gain momentum as you bolted for the beige landline mounted on the wall in the office.

“Thank you for calling Moon River Gallery, this is----”

At the other end was Robin. “Wayne was rushed to the hospital last night,” she said with a sniff, as if she’d just been crying. “He’s okay now, but I’m pissed that Eddie didn’t tell anyone.”

Your heart sank as you leaned your hip against the table. “Oh, no, what happened?”

She sniffed again. “I’m not really sure. I guess they put him on some different meds, and he got lightheaded and fell...and hit his head on the...on the….” her voice trembled and she couldn’t get it out, and so Katie took the phone.

“Hi, it’s me,” Katie said. “He hit his head on the kitchen counter as he went down and he’s banged up. It looks worse than it is though, he’s going to be totally fine,” you could tell she was saying it more to Robin than to you. “Sorry it took so long to call, we just got back from the hospital. He was sleeping, but we got to see him.”

“No, you’re good, I’m so glad you called,” you flicked the light switches that turned off all of the artwork spot lights and the main over head, so the only illumination was in the front windows, the back room where you were, and the deep blue glow from light strips on the main floor. You had not yet officially met uncle Wayne, but you knew how much he meant to all of them, especially Eddie. “What about Eddie? Was he at the hospital?”

“Eddie left when we got there,” Katie sounded confused. “He said he was going to find you.”

------

Getting a call like that from the hospital put Eddie’s head in a dark place. It sent him into survival mode; he couldn’t deal with anything else until he knew that Wayne was okay. He stayed by Wayne’s bed that night, wide awake, eyes bloodshot, knee bouncing, thinking about loving people only to lose them in the end. Fear curled its icy hand around his heart; Eddie had already lost so many people he cared about, he worried that one more would break him.

And then his thoughts rushed to you. The two of you were barely a thing, and already the idea of losing you made his eyes go black with the idea of an emptiness that had the potential to gut him beyond repair. His first instinct was to distance himself from you; he was eerily adept at closing himself off, blocking the world out, and pushing people away. In his life, whenever something good happened, he was always very suspicious about what type of disaster was right around the corner.

Yet, all he wanted in the world at that moment—besides someone to tell him that Wayne’s cancer was miraculously cured---was for you to be there with him in that dark, lonely hospital room. Machines beeping, the smell of antiseptic and bleach and dread. If you could be in his lap, he’d wrap his arms around you and close his eyes and put his head to your chest, and you’d promise him in that sweet voice of yours that nothing bad would ever happen to you, and you’d always be his. You couldn’t promise those things, and he knew that, but the idea of resting his face against the side of your neck did help him to get an hour of sleep in a very stiff chair that was too small for him.

Wayne woke up early in the morning, and Eddie was able to talk with him a bit, and get an idea of what to expect from the nurses. Once he knew that Wayne was in good hands, and he could stop spinning his wheels, he had to go back to work and take care of the three tows that were already lined up. There was one other driver, but business had been growing, and he almost needed to hire a third. Now, he also needed to find an office assistant, even though Wayne kept protesting the idea. No one could replace Wayne, but the part time help would lessen his burdens.

He should’ve called to let Robin and Steve know what happened, he realized that now, and he should’ve called you, but the day got so damn busy so fast, and since Wayne was okay, he didn’t want to alarm anyone needlessly. He’s lucky Robin didn’t slap him across the face, because she looked like she was about to.

By the time he finished up at the garage and went over to check on Wayne one more time, it was late---but he needed to see you. He had to see your face before his heart exploded.

--------

You had just hung up from the phone call with Katie and Robin when you jumped at the sound of a soft tapping noise. At first, you didn’t know where it was coming from, and your ear prickled as you tried to use it as an antennae to guide you to the sound. The main floor was full of shadows; only dark blue atmosphere lights that made you feel like you were in an aquarium, and the illumination from the front window.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

You stepped around one of the big, freestanding artwork dividers, just as you realized the sound was coming from the front window.

And then you saw him.

Shrouded in the residual purple darkness of a sunset, standing at the front door with one knee out to the side, hand down low, knuckle casually but repetitively hitting the glass. Wearing all black; jeans, leather, shirt, the only color peaking out was from his tattoos. Your eyes found each other at the same time, just as you came into view, and it was all you could do not to start giggling and skipping along at how happy you were to see him.

You tried to wipe the smile off of your face as you headed for the door. “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re closed,” you were shaking your head, frowning, trying to act like you didn’t know who he was.

The stern look on his face slipped a little at the corners of his mouth, but he maintained intense eye contact with you, continuing the tap...tap…tap, with the hand that said “H-E-L-L” across the knuckles while the other knuckles spelled out “F-I-R-E”, until you got closer and there was nothing but a pane of glass between the two of you. You broke eye contact just long enough to twist open the double locks, and then he stood there in the doorway bit longer, bracing his arm high on the frame; shirt and coat rising to show the hint of a tattoo at his hip.

“Can I take you to dinner? Are you hungry?” He asked as you motioned him in. He was reluctant because he didn’t think he’d be allowed in there. Much like a vampire, he had to be invited.

“Sure, but, it’s late,” you said as you secured the door again. He turned to you, about to say something else, but then you closed in on him, grabbing onto his jacket with both hands, hips coming together, and he brought his hands to rest on the top of your shoulders. “I’m really glad Wayne is okay,” you whispered, regarding him with the utmost sincerity.

He played with a wisp of hair at the base of your neck. “I should’ve called you, but I--”

“You’re here now,” you beamed. His left eye was swollen, with a bit of bluish black discoloration, and there was a tiny butterfly band-aid over the small cut above his eyebrow.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he returned in a low voice, bending down to kiss your lips, gripping one side of your neck as he did, his thumb stretching up over your jaw. You moaned against his mouth and the sound made his brow clench, stretching his other hand down to casually adjust himself in his jeans.

He moved his hand around the back of your neck as you pulled apart, his eyes trained on your mouth. “How is your tongue?” He almost couldn’t even talk about it, the idea of you getting hit in the face—even accidentally—made him want to start punching walls.

You raised your eyebrows a few times. “I could still eat, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“There’s that all night diner down a couple streets,” his voice a low mumble. “They have those vegetarian burger things, I checked.”

For some reason, that thoughtful gesture sent you even further over the moon about him, and you slipped one hand into his back pocket while the other one played with his wallet chain. “And what will you have? A big, fat steak?”

“The bloodier the better,” he said, running the tip of his tongue over his lower lip.

You planted another quick kiss on him, and then, “here, follow me. I just have one more thing to finish up and then we can go get some blood in your mouth again.”

The front desk against the wall was long and rectangular and came up to your waist. You pulled one of the stools out from under the alcove and placed it next to you so that he could have a seat while you finished sorting some invoices under the dim blue light. Eddie sat with his back against a filing cabinet, legs spread wide, one hand on his hip, the other forearm on his thigh, the hand with the digital wrist watch hanging down between. He tilted his head to watch you as you bent over several times to scribble something on a piece of paper.

“Hey, baby,” he whispered, and you threw him a bashful look over your shoulder. “Come to me,” and he slapped his hand on his leg a few times, directing you where to sit. “You’re too far away.”

He probably meant for you to side-saddle him like he was Santa Claus, but instead, you slid your skirt up your thighs and straddled his whole leg, facing him, like you were about to ride his thigh like a horse, hands braced on his chest. Eddie smirked at how you crawled onto him, he cupped one palm under your butt cheek and popped his knee a few times so that you were, indeed, riding him.

“I like it when you call me baby,” you told him as he brought a hand up to either side of your face, tucking hair behind your ears, brushing his thumb across your skin, metal rings cool as they scissored your ear.

“Yeah?” He asked, dark eyes searching yours. “What else do you like?”

You brought your hand up and ran your finger down his full lips, gently pulling the bottom one open as you went. “I like your mouth.”

He kissed your finger, said a quiet, “you can have it,” and then, with both hands, pulled your face to his, lips parting, tongues exploring, faces turning to avoid noses and lick deeper, hungry moans rising. You slipped a hand around the side of his warm throat, dipping your fingers into the downy hair at the base of his skull, his tiny silver cross earring grazing your hand.

It was only then that you became aware of the grinding you were doing on his leg, and by the time you were aware of it, you didn't want to stop. You needed it, you were drunk on the sweetness of his mouth, the spicy pine and leather of his scent. It was one of the first warm nights in a while, and so you weren’t wearing nylons or tights, and the thin material of your underwear was the only barrier between his denim and your cookie box.

Eddie knew what was happening from the first twitch of your pelvis, and one of his hands slid down to your hip, locking you there, encouraging it. You started to push off of the balls of your feet to deepen the friction as the need for stimulation increased.

“That’s my baby,” Eddie growled as you put your forehead to his. He slid his hand around to make a fist in your hair, pulling your head back so that he could have access to your throat. He sucked at your pulse point, groaning as he did so, while your other hand clung to his jacket for dear life.

The hair tug made you whimper. “That,” you breathed. “I like that too.”

He tightened his grip, taking control of your head, forcing your lips back to his for another deep kiss. He was lifting his leg to meet your needs now, anticipating the rhythm. “Good girl, I got you,” his voice was barely a murmur, lips grazing yours. You started to saw faster back and forth on his leg, slipping one hand down to his other thigh to anchor you, caught unaware at how good it felt and how close you were.

Outside, people were still passing by on the sidewalk, finishing up with their dinners and heading home, or to a bar, but the desk blocked you from view so no one could see that you were rocking like a cowgirl bound for hell.

Your underwear were soaked now, seeping onto his jeans; your cunt swollen and aching against the perfect mix of friction against his denim. You were breathless, mumbling the answer to an unasked question, “uh huh uh huh oh god,” as he put your forehead back to his, one hand still clenched in your hair. You were whispering incoherent parts of words, saying his name, and then you started to feel a spring bounce open inside of you. Eddie could feel it too; you trembled and choked his name one more time, and then you fell forward, curling against him with quickened thrusts.

He tilted his head so that your mouth could find his neck to use as a muffle for your scream, your tongue melting on the salt of his skin. His strong arms secured your body to his as you continued to grind on his leg. “I got you, baby, cum for me…” he coaxed, bracing your hip and the back of your head.

But it wouldn’t take much coaxing, because suddenly you were there: stiffening up against him, letting out a sharp cry just below his ear, one hand holding the other side of his head as if you were feeding on his jugular. His grip on you tightened as your body shuddered, going blind for a second, whimpering against his throat.

Eddie let out a guttural curse as the wetness from your warm pussy penetrated the skin beneath his denim, pre-cum soaking the tip of his cock inside his jeans in response. You let your full weight fall against him, safe, knowing he wouldn’t let you fall, pussy contracting in the afterglow, face buried in his neck and hair.

“Damn, what was that,” you gasped once you were finally able to speak, shoulders trembling in the afterquake. Should you be embarassed? You’d never cum like that before in your life.

He gave a throaty chuckle, his hand rubbing up and down on your back. “I won’t be washing these jeans for a while.”

You were starting to sit up, smoothing your hair back and licking your lips, when you noticed the cherry red glow of a hickey appearing on his neck surrounded by some teeth indentations. “Oops,” you ran your thumb over it, thinking it might be lipstick. “I marked you, now I guess that means you’re mine.”

“I’m fine with it,” his serious eyes found yours from under hooded, sleepy lids.

You were both starving by the time you locked up the gallery, and Eddie’s bike was parked close, so you agreed to ride with him, and then he’d bring you back to your car after. You had brought a change of clothes with you, as you always did so that you could get out of your fussy gallery clothes as quickly as possible, and now you were comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt with your black converse. You hadn’t thought to bring a change of underwear, but you would from now on.

Out on the sidewalk, you eyeballed the big beast of a bike with only a tiny space on the seat for a second rider. He lit a smoke and passed you the helmet that had been hanging on one of his handlebars.

You looked down at it. “But, don’t you need to wear this?”

He shook his head, cigarette pressed between his lips. “I only have one with me, and your head is more important than mine.” He zipped up his jacket and swung one leg over, mounting it.

He could tell you were hesitating. “We’re only going a couple blocks,” he assured you. “If you hate it, you never have to get on this thing again.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” you scrambled to find the right words as you strapped your bag across your body put the helmet on, tightening the chin strap. The helmet was way too big for you and you worried you looked like a real dork. “I’m just not sure...how to do this.”

He hitched his chin at you, planting his feet on either side to hold the chopper steady. “Grab onto the back of my jacket, put this foot here...and then swing the other one over.”

Once you were on, you adjusted your bum on the seat and held onto the sides of his leather, fingers clawing at him nervously, letting him know that you were ready.

Eddie kicked the beast to life with a hop and a twist of his fits on the handlebars; it growled its obedience loud and fierce. People stopped on either side of the street to turn and see where the noise was coming from, and most of them stayed to watch as Eddie walked the massive, menacing bike out to get a clean shot in through the passing cars.

He took one of your hands and brought it around so that it was at his stomach, your chin at his shoulder. “Hold on tight, baby,” he called to you over the roar, and then he lifted his feet and the two of you shot into the night, his discarded cigarette bouncing to the pavement in a dance of orange sparks.

A few cars away, down at the dark end of the street, a white Jaguar idled with the headlights off, and the blonde woman behind the wheel cursed under her breath as she watched the two of you go, anger and jealousy tightening her face. Charlene Gregson was smoking a cigarette, too, and on the exhale, she hissed, “I’m going to make her regret she ever met you, Edward Munson.”

---------

Katie’s eyes rolled back in her head as Robin’s fingers worked her in the perfect spot, “fuck, right there right there,” and then Robin put her other hand over Katie’s mouth to keep her quiet as her orgasm mounted. Oliver was asleep across the hall, and Steve was having a beer in front of the TV after just getting off work. Her cries properly muffled, Robin curled the fingers of her other hand deep in the honey pot and bent her head to find Katie’s nipple with her mouth.

Katie was trying to tell her something, heels digging into the bed, her body gyrating against Robin’s hand. Robin thought she was just really vocal in bed, but then she felt the warm spray coat her hand in bursts, and that’s when she found out, in a moment of awe, that Katie was a squirter.

--------

On Sunday, Katie was working on lessons plans for the first day back after break, but you convinced her to let you take her out to dinner. Later on, you showed up at the tattoo shop Steve worked at just as he was bent over inking a big lower back butterfly for a woman. You flipped through the flash in the tattoo books, talking about maybe getting matching ones. Katie had a tattoo on her ankle, and you had one on your shoulder blade in honor of your grandmother, but neither of you were close to the quantity and quality of work that Steve, Robin, and Eddie had, but you had to start somewhere.

“Did you know that Robin has had two of her girlfriend’s names tattooed on her?” Katie asked you, loud enough for Steve to hear.

Still focused on what he was working on, Steve joined the conversation. “Hey, I didn’t put those names on her, but I was excited when she let me cover them up.”

Robin was at work that afternoon; at one of her side gigs as a maid at one of the fancy local hotels, and it was optimal because she was always able to bring Oliver with her. He loved taking home the tiny shampoo bottles and soaps.

“I can always draw up a design for you girls, if you have something in mind,” Steve announced, looking up briefly as the two of you came up to the counter to say goodbye.

“What do you think?” Katie turned to you, one eyebrow up. “Maybe a dotted line across our throats that says ‘cut here’?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I did that one,” Steve mumbled.

---------

On the opposite side of town in the industrial district, Eddie had a guy by the throat and was sliding him up a brick wall in an alley, holding him there, his feet off the ground, trying to kick out feebly.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find you?” Eddie asked him with a tilt of his head, voice calm but eyes narrowed.

The guy was struggling for air, spitting, face going blue, and all he could do was bare his teeth in a slobbery grimace.

“Check his pockets,” Eddie told the other two bikers that were with him, bracing the guy against the wall like he weighed nothing.

The object of Eddie’s chokehold was a weaselly snake of a man named Rollo who borrowed a large sum of money under Eddie’s name from the Coffin Kings, gambled it all away, and tried to split town. Eddie was supposed to bust his knee caps, but scaring the actual piss out of him, and taking his wallet was punishment enough, he felt. Eddie could be a very violent man if he wanted to, but only on his terms and never at anyone else’s command. Rollo’s two other friends were on the ground; one was unconscious and the other one was doubled over in pain.

“Look in my eyes,” Eddie told Rollo as the other guys found Rollo’s wallet and continued digging around for whatever else he had on him. “The next time you see these eyes, you won’t be able to walk away on two legs, do you understand?”

Rollo nodded a few tiny nods, and Eddie released his hand, letting his body slump to the ground against the wall, coughing, trying to swallow. He was stocky with a beer belly, but short, bald with a goatee.

“Now, get the fuck out of here,” Eddie grumbled as he turned on his heel. “Get the hell out of this town if you know what’s good for you.”

Eddie released a heavy sigh as he mounted his bike, pausing just for a second to remember how tight your body had been pressed against him the night before, the way you had clung to him for dear life, screaming a little when he turned corners. At dinner, you held his hand across the table, right in front of everyone, as if being with a grease monkey and a thug like him didn’t bother you at all. He didn’t know you’d grown up poor, with an alcoholic mother, and you had to learn to be scrappy as hell to get the things you wanted—nothing had been handed to you. He assumed that the two of you had grown up on opposite side of the tracks, in a sense, that you were perfect and polished, and one day soon, you’d realize that he was far from it.

He should’ve been on top of the world knowing that he had you to look forward to, but Eddie had a bad feeling in his gut that he couldn’t ignore. That ominous, invisible tug reminding him that something was about to go wrong was ever-present.

-------------

There was a downpour on Sunday night, and you were just about to check the answering machine to see if Eddie called while Katie started her yoga practice in the living room, when Jeff showed up at your door unannounced. The frantic knocking on the front window made you both jump, and then, there he was in a big, clear poncho with a hood over his head. He shook himself out on the porch before he came in all the way, unbuttoning his slicker to hang it on one of the coat hooks. Jeff had never been to your place before, so you were amused at how he just made himself at home. He took his shoes off before he stepped onto the carpet, even though that wasn’t something either of you required of your house guests.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” He demanded, clearly distraught, looking around as if to check and see where the phone in question was.

“We just got home a little bit ago,” Katie told him, sitting up on her mat to pull her knees to her chest. “What’s going on?”

“Did you listen to the message I left?” He pressed, eyes wide and blinking dramatically at you.

The light was flashing on the machine and your finger was on the button to play the messages back, but you hadn’t pushed it yet, and you flipped a glance at Katie, your heart racing a little.

“Jeff,” you sighed, exasperated. “Please, you’re here, just tell me.”

Jeff puffed out a long breath, hang high on his hip. “First, tell me why you’re leaving the gallery. Is it because of me?”

Disbelief took hold of you initially; you were sure Jeff had just overheard something wrong or made a mistake.

Jeff continued. “If it’s not because of me, and you’re just going to a better gallery, please, take me with you?”

“Hold on,” you put your hand up, trying to make sense of what he was saying as you sat down in the wood chair by the phone. “What made you think I was quitting?”

Jeff’s disturbingly bright blue eyes softened as they found yours and he realized that you didn’t know what he was talking about.

He went over and took a seat at one of the padded bar stools next to the kitchen island, and then he looked down at his hands, suddenly wishing he would’ve waited for you to check your messages.

“I had to go in and get my check late today because I was gone Saturday,” he paused almost as if that was the end of it, but then he lifted his head, an apologetic look on his face as he looked at you. “Judith said I needed to come in for a couple hours on Wednesday to train with the new manager because you were leaving.”

You froze, letting that sink in. Still an element of denial present, you wondered if maybe Jeff heard Judith wrong---perhaps another manager from a different gallery was visiting? But, if so, why wouldn’t you know about it? Why would Judith tell Jeff about it and not you?

“Hunny?” Katie called to you because you weren’t saying anything, your mouth was just hanging open. You snapped it shut abruptly and swallowed.

Jeff shook his head, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be the one to---” sure, Jeff loved a good gossip train, but he genuinely did not want to be the one to inadvertently break it to you that you had been fired without a warning. “I thought you quit, and you just didn’t want to tell me. I thought you already knew.”

Your mind went to Judith’s face at the art show on Saturday, how she had been throwing you dirty looks while simultaneously avoiding you. You were already fired then, and you just didn’t know it.

“I’m fine,” you breathed a forced laugh, hoping to calm everyone else in the room even though your stomach clenched with fear of the unknown. “Everything is fine, I’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

Jeff and Katie exchanged a look, and then they both turned back to you, but your eyes were focused on the floor, the tip of your tongue hovering on your top lip, pensively. Outside, a blast of thunder boomed so hard, there was the equivalent of a light bulb flash in the front window, and a few of the neighborhood car alarms went off, bleating like ominous warnings in the distance.

-------

Later that night, long after Jeff left and Katie had gone to bed, you sat out in the dark of the living room, alone, playing back the messages at low volume while rain continued its lullaby on the windows.

There were four: two from Jeff, one from a credit card company, and...one from Eddie. You had already played it several times, but you played it again, this time with your head tilted, ear close to the speaker of the machine, and your eyes closed.

“...hey, it’s me,” his deep voice wavered a bit and then he cleared his throat. “...damn, you know I hate these things….but I got home and wanted to tell you…that I was thinkin’ about you.”

You’d been holding the stress of the past few hours at bay, letting the knowledge of your abrupt and back-stabbing dismissal tighten in your stomach, but then the sound of his voice broke you a little, and your chest hitched a few times, a single tear making its way down the bridge of your nose.

There was a long pause where it sounded like he was stretching. “...you can call me...or not…I hope you had a good day. Mine was shit,” you could hear him whistle a bit and click his tongue, wondering what to say while simultaneously feeling stupid for talking to a machine. “Let me know if we’re still on for Tuesday night…I’d really like to...to see you again. Okay, later.”

And then, he was gone. You played it several more times before you went to bed, angrily wiping tears off your cheeks. You couldn’t talk to him just yet; you were still too confused and blindsided to get into it with anyone. Plus, you were exhausted, and triggered by rising feelings of abandonment and worthlessness. After you dealt with whatever lame excuse of a conversation Judith had in store for you when you went into work the next day, maybe you’d just stop by the garage to see him for a bit. Maybe he’d be able to fuck the pain away.

----------

Part 7

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steviewashere · 4 months

Text

Be My Lover 🔞Minors DNI🔞

Okay, hi, it's me again. Feral and horny over another thought.

Rating: Explicit CW: Genitalia referred to with actual names (i.e. Stevie's cock, Eddie's vagina.), Alcohol Use, Drunk Sex (They're Both Slightly Tipsy) Tags: Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, T4T, Transfeminine Steve Harrington, Transmasculine Eddie Munson, First Meeting, Hookup, Getting Together, Bathroom Sex, Penis in Vagina Sex, Safe Sex, Daddy Kink, Nipple Sucking, Grinding, Fondling, Groping, Making Out, Eddie Munson Calls Steve Harrington Pet Names, Eddie Munson Calls Steve Harrington Princess, Gay Bar, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Gentleman

Title from "Be My Lover" by La Bouche

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🏳️‍⚧️—————🏳️‍⚧️ The club is packed with bodies. Sweaty, dancing bodies. Music thumping, upbeat and bright all around. People shouting over the sounds, drinks sloshing in hand, some of them shirtless, some hairy and big, some small and flexible.

Stevie's freshly out, still in the beginning stages of her transition. A pin on her clothes to signal. But she wanted a night out where she can truly feel and be herself and be respected as such. Hair long to the middle of her back, wavy, and smelling of fresh berries from her hairspray. Her makeup is shiny, heavy blush on her cheeks, lips a light cherry red. Wearing a sequined, baby pink, spaghetti strap, v-neck dress. It's not short, goes right to her knees. Her muscular, smooth, thick (delicious, if you're in Eddie's brain) legs on display. White, closed toe heels on her feet. She's not exactly there to put on a show, but can feel the weight of somebody's gaze on her and finds she doesn't mind it.

She turns to see a man staring at her. His eyes are big, round, and deep. Enticing. Frame lithe and loose. Leaning against the bar, holding a glass of something honey brown—whiskey or bourbon, Stevie can't tell. He's wearing tight black jeans that leave no room for the imagination, white cropped t-shirt that reads something like Accept but the word is faded, and some beat up low-top black Converse. Honestly, he looks to fit better in a dive bar. But he's got a pin by his collar—the bisexual pride flag. And one a little bigger than that, the trans pride flag.

Immediately, she's intrigued.

Instead of continuing to dance with the strangers around her, she strides over to the bar. Her heels clicking against the concrete floor. He startles straighter against the bar once he notices her coming over. But when she slows slightly, giving him more time to really consider the opportunity that's arising, he relaxes. A smirk on his face, eyes not so subtly raking over her body.

When she finally stops in front of him, hands clasped below the small pouch of her belly, he locks his stare. Pupils dilated. Something already heated about them. This guy is a little shorter than her, not by much maybe just an inch, but she thinks she'd be able to pick him up if needed. Which may be very needed if this goes the way she wants it to.

"Mind if I join you?" she asks sweetly, gesturing to the empty stool next to him. Instead of speaking, he gestures enthusiastically to the seat. Even going so far as to pull it out for her to sit in. She settles easily, red flushing her cheeks darker, and gazes at him as he sits down, too. "Thank you," she murmurs.

"Pretty girls don't pull out their own seats," the guy purrs. Now that he's closer to her, she can smell him. His musk, deep and spicy. Like whiskey and cinnamon. The faintest scent of a cigarette freshly smoked. There's stubble on his jaw, most likely prickly if she were to brush her fingers on it. His ears are pierced. And his hair...She's in love with it. Down to the top of his chest, curly and dark brown, the softest thing she's ever seen.

She doesn't even notice that she's checking him out until a hand cups her jaw, raises her head gently, and then their eyes are meeting again. That smirk is back. And there's a dimple on his cheek.

And Stevie thinks she might be halfway in love already.

Eloquently, she mumbles, "Huh?"

He chuckles, deep in his chest. She melts into his hand still on her jaw. His thumb swipes down her cheek in short stripes. "Asked if you wanted anything to drink, babygirl."

"Oh!" she quietly exclaims. Her face heats up impossibly more. Wonders, very briefly, if he can feel it, too. "Oh, uh, just a cold Miller? That's what I usually get."

The guy slinks his hand away and Stevie already mourns the loss. Hums. "Beer drinker, huh? Could you be any more insatiable?"

"Mm, I dunno. If we get some time alone, you could find out?"

His pale cheeks turn lightly pink in the quick flash of white light that hits him. He clicks his, now noticeable, ringed fingers on the bar's counter. "Maybe I could once I get your name, baby?"

"Stevie," she responds a little too quickly. "And you?"

"Eddie," he states warmly. Leans in to her space. Whispers, "Daddy, if you're lucky by the end of the night."

He leaves her space as quick as he entered it, waves the bartender down, orders her drink, and finishes off his own glass. She can only blink, mouth slightly ajar. Wondering if he'll notice her rapidly appearing bulge when he turns back. Finds that she wouldn't mind that at all. Wouldn't mind leaving here tonight a little more peppy than before.

When her beer arrives, they talk back and forth for a while. Jobs. "Mechanic on the weekdays, musician on the weekends," he says. Preferences. "You," he flirts—she squirmed at that one.

She's pleasantly buzzed, but not full on drunk. Aware and slightly floating. They're closer than they were before. Almost sharing the same stool. His right hand is on her back, rubbing lightly up and down her spine. Her left hand on his thigh, squeezing near his crotch, relishing in how he hums at the sensation.

He rests his chin on her shoulder. And in her left ear, husks, "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met." Tentatively, Eddie presses a sticky kiss to her earlobe. "Can't believe I found you first, baby." His nose is buried in her hair, tickling at her scalp. Fingers at the base of her neck, dully scratching at her skin over moles. Lips moving down to her bare neck. Against her skin, "Fuck, you smell delicious, sweetheart," he mumbles.

"Ed," she quietly whines. "Not here in front of—"

"Bathroom?" he asks in a hushed voice. "Could lock the door. Muffle your delightful sounds with my palm. Make you feel good. You want that, baby?"

She nods enthusiastically. "Yes, Eddie. Please," she lightly moans.

In a matter of seconds, he's laid out the money for his tab, left their empty cups on the counter, and dragged them bodily towards the unisex bathroom. He shoves first into the restroom, leaving her leaned against the door. Locks it. And presses close into her space.

She lays her hands on his lower back, dangerously close to his ass. He kisses across the front of her neck, over her Adam's apple, down to the dip in her collarbones. Suckles lightly on her bare skin, close to the right spaghetti strap of her dress, over her heart. Nibbling gingerly on her soft skin.

Her head thunks back onto the door. Moaning openly as his teeth work harder. She scoots her hands down onto his asscheeks, cupping them in her palms, and squeezes heftily with his bite. "Ed—Eddie, fuck," she breathes.

He pulls back, a thin string of saliva connecting them. "Am I able to touch you, sweetheart?"

She nods hastily. "Please," Stevie whimpers, "don't wanna come on my dress."

"Fuck, baby, alright," he mewls. Carefully, he pulls down the straps of both her dress and her bra. She's not that big on her chest, not yet, but he eyes her like she's a masterpiece. And that makes her feel brave. His thumbs massage at the top of her breasts, down on the outsides, and then he cups her in both of his palms. Brings his mouth to her right nipple and latches on gently.

The estrogen she takes makes her chest incredibly sensitive. Noticeable, especially now, with Eddie's hot saliva drowning over her rapidly hardened bud. The way her legs shake underneath her, her hands spasming where she still gropes Eddie's ass. She lolls her head back and forth over the door, hair scraping. Eyes rolled back and mouth open in a raspy, breathy moan.

His tongue laves over in clockwise circles. Her lonely breast being gently soothed with his hand. Thumb massaging over her freed nipple. And then, he changes his attention to solely focus on her left breast. She can't help the way her hips buck forward, bulge pressed tightly against his knee. Moaning brokenly and wanton at the contact.

He pulls back again. Eyes heavy, lids halfway closed, lips spit slick. Hungry. His hands move from her still exposed chest down to her hips, at the pudge that's begun to form there. Eddie squeezes gently at her new thickness, moving closer and closer to her crotch. She watches in a daze, already panting heavily, spit rapidly cooling.

"Condom," she finally works out, rasping. "Tucked in the waistband of my panties."

His eyes widen slightly, bouncing back to her. He grins. "Well, you come prepared, don't you?"

"Don't want to make you an actual daddy, do we?" she teases. "Come on," she whines, "I'm so fucking horny right now."

"Alright, babygirl, I've got you," he coos. His hands move down to the bottom of her dress. Feeling underneath the skirt, up her thick thighs, to where the waistband of her panties dig into her hips. The crinkle of the condom wrapper loud between them as she rasps above. "Got it, baby. How do you wanna do this?"

"How much do you weigh?"

He quirks an eyebrow. "That's kind of—"

"I'm lifting you, dumbass." She snorts. "Come on, Daddy. Wanna make you feel good," she teases once more.

Eddie rolls his eyes, but the flush is hard to hide in the fluorescent light of the bathroom. "150. Let me get us ready, baby. I'll be quick and careful, promise."

"I trust you," Stevie whispers. And finds that to be the truth.

Something glistens in his eyes when they lock stares again. But it's gone quickly as he ducks down. Puts his hands under the dress again. And peels her lacy, pink as her dress panties down her legs. She whines the moment his warm hand makes contact with her cock. He's slow and meticulous with wrapping the condom onto her. When he's done, he steps back, chucks his sneakers off, works his jeans down to the linoleum floor, and spits into his palm.

With heavy lids, she watches him touch himself. Gently circling where his clit is, teasing the wiry pubic hair on his vagina. He slides his middle finger in to the second knuckle, the same with his ring finger. And rubs gently, yet quickly. His teeth bite into his plush bottom lip. Breathing heavy through his nose. Eyes almost closed with arousal. Sweat building on his happy trail.

Finally, he pulls his fingers free. They're pruned on the fingertips. Vagina slick with want. He wipes his hand on his exposed belly, steps forward, and lifts the hem of her dress.

She wraps her arms back around him, pulling him in tight and close. Ready to come already, just from his display. "You ready?" Stevie husks. "I'll lift you, wrap you legs around my waist. I've got you."

"I know you won't drop me, babygirl. I'm ready whenever you are, no rush."

At his confirmation, she hefts him up underneath his asscheeks. Resting his ass on the shelf she's created with her forearms. He responds immediately by wrapping his legs around her, squeezing at her lower back with his calves. His hands lift up the skirt of her dress, draping it over his legs and where Stevie's cock is about to go inside him. The prickly hair on his legs rubs against her bare sides.

Eddie peels his t-shirt off. Top surgery scars on display, beautiful on the underside of his chest. And he presses against her bare breasts. Their nipples rubbing up against each other.

She moans, squeezes under his ass, and finally worms the first few inches of her cock inside of him. His breath catches, moaning high into her ear. And then his lips on hers, messy and filthy and hungry. She's ready to be devoured.

He raises himself slightly. Grinding down onto her cock. Getting the last of her girth inside of him. Moaning breathless right into her mouth, she can't help but breathe air back into his lungs. Their noses plunge into each other. Chests burning as they rub at one another. His socked feet warm and pressing into the small of her back.

Eddie's kisses are tender, loving, and careful. Each roll of his hips is almost like a love letter to her. His hands resting on her shoulders, squeezing, dull fingernails digging into her soft flesh—all of it like a promise.

She's never been taken care of like this before. Even as she's slightly tipsy now, nothing's ever been this good. Nobody's ever been this good to her. It almost makes her want to cry.

"Fuck, Daddy," she breathes into Eddie's mouth. "Fuck, you feel amazing." His heat warms her through the condom. She can imagine what it's like without it. With his slick pre-come dripping down to the base of her cock, between where her thigh meets her groin. Getting messy, filthy, painted with it. To be shiny and glistening with it.

"Yeah, baby?" Eddie husks. "You're a fucking dream, Stevie. So lucky," he babbles, "so lucky to have you. Pretty girl, prettiest."

She whines instead of responding, grinding up into him. Faster and faster still. Her orgasm is close. Tingling low and warm and heavy in her belly. Into the tops of her thighs, burning. Her forearms dig into the meat of his ass.

With one final thrust, a broken moan on her lips, she comes undone. Just as he yelps something raw and low into her ear. She swears she feels it, his slick dripping onto the tops of her feet, bare where her heels don't cover.

It's the best thing she's ever felt, sans this night with Eddie.

Carefully, Eddie's legs unwrap from her. Her arms jelly like and hanging limp at her sides once he's back on the ground. Bare chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. He walks back towards the roll of toilet paper by the toilet, rips off a wad, and saunters back.

"Can't," she pants, "can't believe you're basically naked in this nasty restroom."

Eddie shrugs. "I've had sex in worse places," he states nonchalantly. He drops down to his knees, unrolls the filled condom from Stevie's slow to limp cock, and wipes her reverently with the toilet paper.

She grimaces. "Ew," Stevie murmurs, "I don't even wanna know."

He hums as he stands back up, her panties pulled back up, and tosses their mess away. "Next time we'll do it in one of our beds, baby. Don't worry," he says warmly, softly. His bare back and ass is towards her as he wipes at himself, cleaning up the slick slowly dripping down the insides of his thighs. "I'll make sure to have the softest sheets for you, princess. And a cold bottle of water for after. Make you my favorite post-sex sandwich. It'll be better."

As Stevie stuffs her breasts back into her bra and places the straps on her shoulders, she takes a swift inhale of breath. He's still naked and wiping at himself. Acting as if he didn't promise her the world. "Really? You...You wanna have sex with me again?"

Eddie looks over his shoulder. Eyes soft and earnest. "Yeah, if you'll have me. I'm not letting the most beautiful girl get away. Especially knowing that she's the best lay I've ever had."

Something warms inside of her. He saunters back, scoops up his clothes, and begins to redress himself. She takes a tentative step forward, while his t-shirt is hanging on his elbows. Drops a sweet little kiss to his cheek. "And you're the most handsome guy I've had the pleasure of meeting. Maybe...You wanna get dinner with me tomorrow?"

He pulls his shirt over his head. Scoops his hair out of the collar. And then kisses her back. Directly on the lips. Soft and slow and achingly tender. "Of course, princess. I'd be honored."

When she leaves that night, that pep in her step, stomach warm with bar nachos and tender words, and Eddie's number—she knows she's already in love.

🏳️‍⚧️—————🏳️‍⚧️ I wrote this instead of sleeping. I have jury duty in a few hours, so. Gotta make sure y'all are fed before I go offline for some several hours later. ;)

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #transfem steve harrington #transmasc eddie munson #t4t #nsft #all the smut

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