#the visions are back i can draw again :-]

[odd-critter]

i leave and come back bearing a new interest. Hi

[druidshollow]

dunes rise to villainous power

[st4rstudent]

bedmac

[welcometogrouchland]

We talk a lot about there being zero content for a niche thing you're into but ohhhh my god. Oh my GODDD WHY IS IT SO TORTUOUS. OH MY GOD WHY. KILL ME. PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY LIKE OLD YELLER. OH MY GOD WHY

[b4kuch1n]

I saw your art of Mob and Reigen and I wanted to tell you that the soap bubbles were so pretty and I thought your art was very cool

thank you!! that piece was from... six year ago now holy shit. it's been six years already.... 18-year-old baku appreciates the kind thoughts very much!

[pikkish]

Hope everything is okay!! Miss you on my dash!

I'm okay, yeah! Little bit tired, little bit burnt out, but I'm alright. I always say I'm gonna do So Much Stuff in the summer, but I forget I get exhausted so much easier in the heat, so when I'm not at work, I usually don't have the energy to do stuff beyond play video games or sleep, so I haven't really been on tumblr a whole lot. Thank you for checking in, though, it does mean a lot to me to know you guys are lookin out for me <3

[lunarlegend]

i'm very sleepy, but next i'm thinking that i've always wanted to draw Older Ignis & Older Stella with their baby daughter, Lucina. i already have an image in my head i want to work with, so we'll see what tomorrow brings...

[silasours]

ৎ⸝⸝⠀EATING YOU OUT ! —

#pairing : lucifer, alastor, vox, valentino, x fem reader. #cw : 18+ content, mdni. face sitting. edging. overstimulation. oral sex. toys usage. sub/power sub reader. praise kink. fingering. squirting. vox pleasuring himself while desperately eating you out. calling vox a 'good boy'. pretend that val has a nose here. #summary : just them enjoying their time with their face stuck up in between your legs. #note : feels like i have nobody else to write for but, oh well.

ʚ LUCIFER .

your fingers grip lucifer's blonde locks tightly, legs shaking on either side of his head. his forked tongue moves skillfully thrusting into you, hungrily gathering every drop of your juice onto his tastebuds. he groans at the taste, the vibration sending straight to your core which earns another moan that spills from your lips. the eyes of his glow in the weakly dim room, peering at your face from between your legs.

"my, aren't you a delicious one." he coos against your puffy lips before pressing his lips against them. he exaggeratedly sucked on them before releasing, his ears blessed by your high-pitched moans while his hands hold your legs apart by your thighs. lucifer draws his tongue out and licks a long stripe down your clit, teasing for a short moment before thrusting his tongue into your entrance once again.

your hold on his hair only grew stronger, face growing more flushed as you threw your head back in pleasure. your vision starts blurring up from the tears that gather around your eyes, feeling your body burn from how close you are.

of course lucifer knows you're close; he knew the moment your inner walls clenched around his slithery tongue tighter than they did before. your hips involuntarily rock against his tongue, pushing yourself further onto his face with trembling muscles. watching this made him chuckle as he allowed you to push yourself closer to him.

"pretty girl, gonna cum for me?" you nod the moment he says those words, triggering the coil to break faster than before. he groans lowly at how soaked you're getting, doing his best to not let a single drop escape from his hungry tongue. with a loud breath sucked into your throat, orgasm hits you like a strong wave that flows throughout your body.

you moan to the point where your voice cracks ever so slightly. lucifers lap your juices clean, patiently helping you to calm down from your intense high with lazy draw of lines of his tongue. once you're done, he presses a light kiss onto your clit before climbing up from your legs. his mouth and chin glisten from your release as a grin sits on his face, the sight alone making your face burn further.

ʚ ALASTOR .

how many times have you been denied release now? you've lost count. your head is clouded with desperation to finally break, yet this demon here is stopping you from doing so over and over again. with a frustrated cry, you open your eyes to gaze at alastor all teary, only to find him taking his sweet time with his lips pressed against your clit. "please, alastor.. w-wanna cum.." you barely managed to hold back a hiccup, a soft mewl rolling off your tongue.

you can feel his grin growing against you, his face pulling away which made you whine. his tongue draws out to lick around his lips, finger sneakily moving to tease the sensitive bundle of nerves of yours. "is that so?" you nod desperately, moaning at his touch in hopes of being able to convince him. he doesn't reply with any words but a smile, slowly lowering his face back to where it was.

"be careful what you wish for, my dear." he whispered before ramming two digits into your hole, your warm, gummy walls instantly tightening around them. your back arches off the bed as your eyes roll, a hand instinctively moving to his hair to tug on it. the burn on his scalp made him groan against your clit as well as his cock throbbing in the confinements of his pants.

alastor's tongue moves sloppily against your soaked clit; it was more than enough to make your body tremble especially with his fingers carelessly abusing your pretty hole. his fingers always work like magic, never once missing that sweet spot buried deep inside of you once they figure out where exactly it is.

you came without getting the chance to tell him, the back of your head pressing hard onto the bed sheets. you choke on your moans while struggling to breathe properly; alastor isn't giving you a break just yet. his maintains the speed of his tongue and fingers as you try to push his head away weakly. "too much- mnh-!"

"too much?" alastor chuckles, almost mocking your words. he withdraws his face but not his fingers, slowly sinking his teeth into the skin of your thigh while sucking on it. "we're not done just yet, darling."

ʚ VOX .

"yeah? you enjoy me sitting on your face?" you grip the headboard tightly, doing your best to maintain upwards as vox works his tongue on your clit. he moans against you at your words, his hand moving to stroke his leaking cock with a slight squeeze. despite your attitude, you can't deny how good his tongue is at targeting exactly where your weak spots are.

moans slip from your lips, your noises only causing vox's hips to thrust up into his hand. you chuckle weakly which soon gets cut off by another moan, your grip on the headboard gradually growing weak. you keep your gaze on his face, occasionally turning your head to glance over your shoulder, to see him pleasure himself and those pathetic whines of his. you breathe out a small 'good boy' at the sight.

vox groans loudly at the praise, his tongue now matching the pace of the hand on his member. his breath is hot against your soaked crotch, the increased speed only causing your legs to stumble. "fuck, vox," you whine with a sweet tone, resting your head against the headboard; the sole item that supports your body to stay upright.

he hums in return, the heavy breath signaling that he's close to his own release. you're no different, feeling the coil in your stomach crumbling with every thrust of his tongue. you huff as you gaze down at him, meeting his silent desperate plea for release. you keep your eyes fixated on his while grinding against his face, dangling the sweet release right in front of him.

you only grant him permission once you're close enough, feeling your whole body shudder as release consumes you. you screw your eyes shut, listening to vox's low groans. he lifts his hips up from the bed sheet, white strings of hot seed decorating his stomach. while you're trying to catch your breath, you notice vox's gaze on you as he slowly speaks with a shaky, muffled voice.

"please.. can i put it in you now?"

ʚ VALENTINO .

valentino's workplace is practically filled with nothing but the smell of your sweat, your sweet noises, and the buzzing sound of a vibrator. the lower half of your body is raised high from the couch, high enough to reach his face as he stands by the edge, a leg of his folded up on the plush couch. his pairs of arms hold your body firmly.

the vibrator is pressed against your sensitive bud, his long tongue twisting and turning inside of you. you squirm under his hold, hands still struggling to find a suitable place for you to hold onto because of the position you're put in. your mind is clouded, drool slowly rolling down from your lips while struggling to keep yourself from turning into more of a mess than you already are.

"looking so pretty like this, amorcito." his nose is pressed up against your clit, the liquid coating his skin as he moans at the feeling. your body shivers, feeling heat crawl up onto your face partially from how embarrassing this position is. you're fully exposed in the air as he enjoys your taste right there, not paying any mind the both of you are in his workplace with the potential of being seen and heard.

"val.. put me- down.." your voice is nearly quiet from the continuous pleasure you're receiving. valentino scoffs, ignoring your pleas without stopping his tongue. his teeth graze against your skin, the small worry of him biting into you causes you to whimper while digging your nails into one of the arms that's holding your body.

perhaps it's because you're overly clouded by pleasure, you didn't notice him reaching for the small controller that's attached to the vibrator and swiping it all the way up. the sudden strong vibration made you cry out loud, the heel of your foot digging into his shoulder, toes curled. you shake your head, eyes squeezing shut at the feeling. "no, w-wait, hngh! i'm gonna-"

you didn't even manage to finish your sentence before being fully consumed by a strong orgasm. you squirt as your legs shake violently against his hold, vision turning white while valentino watches with a grin. he slightly removes the vibrator from your now extra-sensitive bud, allowing you to calm down from your high. with a sense of pride and satisfaction sitting in his chest, he licks around your spasming pussy for a taste.

"didn't know my baby could put up such a show. do it once more for me, will ya?"

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

[messylustt]

i need hobie brown smut i can’t find any 😭🙏 hes a rockstar so i’m pretty sure those fingers are …. 😍😍

practice — hobie brown. longer name. hobie using your pussy for band practice. they areeee tho. god.

he’d be sitting on a comfy chair or couch, legs spread (of course), and he’d be ushering you over by a slight backwards tilt to his head. thinking all is innocent you walk over, bouncing onto the couch beside him. hobie immediately grabs your legs which had bent slightly together, as he straightens them over his lap, his large hands practically wrapping around both calves (they are big enough, yes).

“how’d practice go?” you ask, shifting to get slightly more comfortable. “I could practically hear your guitar from a million rooms down — ” but your words drift off upon feeling his hands glide up your leg, coming to a stop by your bare thighs (you being in a skirt). you intake air as hobie yanks you closer to him by your thighs, slightly spreading them in the process.

you’re now practically draped over him having to push up slightly on your elbows as you stare at him from lower on the couch. “it was alrigh’…” his hand began to lead under your skirt all while keeping eye contact with your fluttering eyes. “if ya heard it that far away, then mission accomplished.” your breathing hitches as hobie’s ringed fingers disappear under your skirt, away from your vision, as he slowly brushes over your covered pussy, making your hips jolt.

“but apparently I need practice…” he hums, beginning to draw patterns over your clit as your chest begins to heave. “my fingers need to be quicker to get a certain tempo…” now he’s moving your panties aside as he slides the tips of his fingers through your wetness. “thanks, babe…ya all prepared for me.”

and then he’s thrusting two long fingers into your cunt making your breathing hitch as your hips shift. “hobie…”

“mm…” he watches as his fingers go in and out your pretty hole. “ya can help me get better…righ’?” his thrusts are moving quicker now, as his other hand keeps your thighs spread apart. “let me know if my speed is improving.” you’re now a whimpering mess as your head knocks back, his thrusts now at an ungodly pace as his thumb moves to rub circles on your clit.

“no no…i need to you to see. to let me know how i’m doing…” his free hand moved to pull your chin back. “watch.” your pussy is clenching around his fingers, as the speed makes your entire body hum, his thumb somehow flicking your clit perfectly. and as your orgasm crashes over you, hobie hums to himself, slowing the pace a fraction, but not pulling out.

“see…i’m already getting better…you really are helping me improve…” his thrusts quicken up again, making you whine in overstimulation. “shh…this technique is working…i can’t stop my practice now…”

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[ao3commentoftheday]

Bear with me here because I might end up torturing this particular metaphor, but when it comes to trying to get the image of a scene onto the page in the form of descriptive narrative, it might be useful to approach it like a visual artist.

If you've ever watched an artist do their thing (or if you're an artist yourself), you know that they don't just start at the top left corner of the page and draw the entire scene in all its detail, all in one go. I'm going to use an example of digital drawing with the use of software like Photoshop here because I have no idea if this metaphor will work with pencil and paper.

You have an image in your head. It might be super clear. It might be more vague. When you're starting to describe it, just sketch it in. Create a layer of broad strokes information like what the location is, how many people are in it, and what activity is happening.

Then add in a layer - whichever one is easiest. Let's pretend it's the location. Read through the sketch that you currently have and see where you have opportunities to describe the location. You don't have to front load everything at the top of the chapter, for example. You can add in details about the location as the characters move through it.

Add another layer. Are the characters' appearances different from what they previous were? Are you just establishing them at the start of the story? Do they have a "uniform" that they wear in canon that you've opted not to change? You can add in whatever details here you want, and again don't feel like you have to put it all in the same place. You can talk about a ponytail falling loose partway through an action. Or wait until someone else comments on a character's new pair of shoes.

Add another layer. What are the characters doing? How are they moving? Interacting?

Another layer. What are they saying? How do they sound?

Another layer. What other sounds are in the room? What smells? Do these change? Appear or disappear?

Keep going back and forth, toggling your way through your layers, adding things in here and removing them there. Every artist knows that sometimes a line just doesn't go in the right place and you have to erase it and draw it again.

Remember that no amount of work will give your reader a perfect representation of the vision in your mind, but also please know that that's okay.

By the time you finish your scene, some of those early layers might not exist anymore, and that's okay too. They were the sketch that started your verbal drawing. The base you used to guide your inks. Your final render won't have every line or brush stroke in it, and it'll be all the better for it in the end.

[crimsonbubble]

no bc just imagine how sexually frustrated miguel would be after chasing you around like cat and mouse… the breeding has entered the chat

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, breeding kink, creampies, hair pulling, degradation, overstimulation, a bit of manhandling, improper use of webs *not proofread, just pure horny

[I want him so bad why can't he be real 😔😔😔]

MINORS DNI!!

he's getting tired of this, but your pretty eyes and soft lips draw in him each time he swore that he wouldn't fall for your games. as tired as he is, he always lets you get away with it.

letting you get away with it a little too easily. though now he's stopped his chasing, trying to keep himself occupied to stop himself from playing into your games. he can feel your eyes on him, burning into his back as he continues working through anomaly reports.

as you tried to sneak up on him, you felt something spread across your chest, wrapping around your arms. with a sharp tug, miguel pulled you into him. you collided with his chest, a hand holding his webs and a hand on your lower back. you struggled against the webs, only making him spread more around you.

miguel quickly tugged your mask off, a smirk playing on his lips as he saw the shock written on your face. "not so tough now, huh?" you struggled against the webs again, trying to pull yourself away from him. "don't try and run from me now, you earned this."

miguel let out a grunt, pushing you up against his desk. he pressed a heavy hand to your back, webbing your wrists together. with little to no care, his talons rip through the crotch of your spider suit. the cloth is torn to shreds on the platform. "you've been nothing but a pain in the ass,"

miguel takes in the sight of you bound in crimson webs and bent over his desk. "a real thorn in my side." you try to peer over your shoulder only for miguel to press your head down to his desk. "we're not done til I say we're done." he disengages his suit with a flash, grinding his throbbing cock through your folds.

"you're lucky I'm even letting you have my cock." he says this yet he's just as needy for you as you are for him. the back and forth, the pushing and pulling, the cat and mouse games; he loves them but sometimes all he really wants is to web you up and fuck you til your legs give out.

and that is exactly what he's going to do. miguel lets his own fantasies and desires lead him, letting himself act on his impulses. miguel bottomed out in one sharp thrust, your walls convulsing and tightening around him as he fucked you. each thrust was heavier than the last, hips hips knocking you up further onto his desk.

with the hand pushing your face into his desk, he's tangling his fingers into your hair, pulling your head back as he rocked his hips into yours. you can't get words out because of how rough his pace is. miguel set a hand on your hip, using it to pull your ass back on his dick.

every thrust in and pull back forced his cock deeper, stretching your walls to accommodate his size. you're practically seeing stars shoot across your vision, mouth hanging open with each moan and cry that leaves you breathier than the last. with how easily miguel is leading you to orgasm, you know that you're not getting out of this for a while.

"only the first and you're already this fuckin' messy, huh?" the condescending tone makes your pussy flutter, as miguel tracks a finger over your pulsing clit. he rubs circles against the throbbing bud as you tumble head first into another orgasm. "m-miggy-" the words are caught in your throat, being passed by lewd cries and heavy moans.

your slick is gushing around his cock, and the wet noises of skin on skin finally make it to your ringing ears. miguel pushes your head against his desk again, grunting as he speeds through his release. it's a flood of warmth as miguel keeps his pace, groaning as much cum spills out of you. "fuck, look at you. such a messy little thing."

you can't tell up from down as miguel guides you to another orgasm. you're trying to alleviate the heavy plows of his hips by raising to your toes, but it only motivates miguel to go even harder, as if he's trying to knock the sense out of you. your eyes are blurring with tears, the stinging of the overstimulation starting to bite.

in a feeble attempt at pushing miguel away, he pins your wrists against your back. he uses it as more leverage to pull you back on his cock, letting another heavy load paint your walls white. "it's okay, take it just like that." the moans he's letting out are deep and guttural, a noise you would've missed if you weren't being drowned in his mere presence.

you're struggling against the webs again, the tingle of the overstimulation reaching new heights. miguels superhuman nature granted him increased stamina and endurance, making it easy for him to ride out his second high while you're crashing through your third. "c'mon now, is that all you got?"

you outwardly whine at his words, pushing your hips back to meet him halfway. miguel leans down, his chest to your back as he kisses up your neck. his fangs pushed against your skin, lightly grazing it with a featherlike pressure. it's as if he's teasing the idea that he could sink his teeth in. he very much could but he wants you to feel everything that he's doing to you.

he's got you trapped, and he doesn't intend on letting you go any time soon.

[zombienarc]

-

[heytheredelulu]

Unbreakable

Unbreakable Part 2 can be found here!

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

C/W: Oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, language

Summary: You’ve always wanted to be a mother but your husband is too tormented by his past to believe he could ever be a good father. For so long you’ve accepted that it will never be in the cards for you- after all, it’s only a small price to pay to continue to live the life you’ve built with the man you love. But what happens when you finally admit that you want what he refuses to give you? Will you push him away with your confession or will you finally make him realize that he’s not the man he believes himself to be?

A/N: Look, I’ve been hormonal as hell for the last two weeks and it’s got me craving some angsty, soft, needy Bucky-

And some passionate, sensual baby makin’ sex.

So without further ado, please enjoy the longest fic I’ve ever written.

“Doll?” Bucky asked softly, kneeling down in front of you and lowering his head to your level in an attempt to draw your attention up from the book sprawled open in your lap.

You’d been much more reserved as of late and it was beginning to worry him. Your smile seemed a little weaker, a little more forced, and your overall demeanor had reversed; as if the bright light that you always exuded had been extinguished and you were now floating along on the furls of smoke that were left behind- here physically, but mentally you were always elsewhere.

“Hmm?”

You turn the page gently without looking up and Bucky sighs, reaching to carefully slide the book off your lap, snapping it shut and placing it on the coffee table.

“Look at me, angel.”

You let out a slow breath, lifting your head to meet your husband’s troubled gaze, his brows furrowed in concern.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong, or are you gonna keep hiding out with your nose in a book all day?” He asks quietly, hoping that this time you’d open up, pull back the curtains you’d drawn so tightly and let him into those veiled thoughts of yours.

You shrug, trying to avert your eyes but his hand gently grasps your chin, tilting your face back towards him.

“Angel, please.”

You shake your head, afraid to share with him what’s been troubling you for weeks, afraid to dredge up long washed away agreements.

“It’s stupid.”

He raises an eyebrow, pinning you under his cerulean stare.

“Nah, it’s not stupid if it’s got you this worked up. C’mon.”

He affectionately tucks a piece of hair that had fallen loose when you’d shook your head back behind your ear before offering you a small smile that breaks your resolve and you feel the tears beginning to form on your lower lash line, the translucent beads of heartache obscuring your vision.

“I want a baby.” You whisper, immediately wishing you’d never uttered those four words once you see the corners of his lips begin to pull downwards.

When he slowly stands and takes a hesitant step backwards, that mask of stoicism you’ve worked for so long to peel away slipping back into place, your heart seizes in your chest.

“Bucky..” You plead, a tear slipping down your cheek as you rise from your seat and reach out for him, afraid you’ve pushed him too far with your admittance. “James.. Baby.”

He shakes his head, holding his palm out towards you in a feeble attempt to maintain his distance while he mulls over your confession but you press forward, placing your hand gently on his forearm.

“I need some air.” He mumbles, shrugging off your hand and moving quickly towards the door.

Before you can muster the voice to call out for him again, the door is closing behind him with a soft click and he’s gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Why couldn’t you have just kept your mouth shut?

You scold yourself, your mind reeling with the possibility that you may have said too much despite only saying so little when you hear his motorcycle roar to life out in the garage.

He was running again.

You’d known the idea of children was a difficult subject for Bucky. It had only come up in discussion a handful of times before and when it had, he was always quick to dismiss it, stating he’d be a terrible father before descending into a rabbit hole of self-deprecating comments you’d have to reach down and pull him out of with a steady hand of reassurance.

As time went on you’d pretty much conceded to the idea that you’d never have the chance to be a mother if you wanted to continue to live the life you’d built with the man that you loved and you’d grown to accept that fact. At the time it felt like a small price to pay for the joy and love that Bucky brought you but as the years went on and your friends and coworkers grew their families, welcoming new, bright eyed babies, you began to feel a sense of longing for what you had always thought you’d never want.

His behavior was so much different this time, the way he’d clammed up, shut you out and needed to completely remove himself from your presence. His reaction had never been so extreme before and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was how desperate you’d seemed- the tears in your eyes, the pleading in your tone.

Those thoughts and unanswered questions weighed heavily in your mind while you escaped the afternoon inside the pages of your book until the sun began to set through the bay window and you finally dragged yourself up to bed, your restless mind carrying you into a dreamless sleep.

It was nearly 2 in the morning when Bucky crept barefoot into your bedroom, the hall light bathing your sleeping figure in a corridor of fluorescent light as he quietly opened the door. His breath caught in his chest as he lingered in the doorway, this vision of you reminding him just why he always affectionately referred to you as his angel.

He shut the door softly behind him, shedding his t-shirt and jeans before gently pulling back the sheets, his heart and his cock simultaneously swelling when his gaze settled on the image of you in your silk night gown as it rode innocently up your supple thighs.

He crawled silently up the foot of the large bed, lowering himself onto his stomach and settling between your legs, his hands gently kneading the tender flesh of your thighs as a low and shuddered breath blew from his lips.

He carefully pushed the hem of the silk garment higher, exposing your cotton briefs and the soft flesh of your belly, moving to rest his head against the bare skin. His hand hesitantly caressed your abdomen.

All afternoon his head had been plagued with the fear of losing you, the feeling of inadequacy resulting from the pain in your tone when you confessed the desire for something he felt he could never provide.

But once alone with his thoughts as he tore down the interstate on his motorcycle, physically trying to outrun the deep rooted trauma of his past, the pieces began to fall into place for him.

You’d loved him unconditionally through his trauma, offered him unwavering support and shined light to the darkest depths of his soul, always seeing something inside him that he could never see in himself.

But you were fading. Becoming physically and emotionally withdrawn under the weight of sacrificing such a fundamental need that you craved- all for him.

Maybe he’d never overcome his past. Maybe there would always be a darkness beyond the surface that kept its claws dug deep into the innermost reaches of his subconscious.

Or maybe he had already overcome it and had just been so blinded by his own self loathing that he hadn’t realized. Surely if he was as cold and broken as he believed himself to be, he never would have been capable of loving you in the all encompassing way that he did.

You, the one person in his life that could melt the ice encapsulating his heart with only a flash of your warm smile.

He’d never wanted children. He always believed he’d be a terrible father but the desperation in your eyes when you confessed that you wanted a baby with him brought him to consider that maybe it had always been his own insecurities rearing their ugly head as they always did when he tried to imagine himself as anything more than the man he used to be.

His hand stroked idly across your bare abdomen in slow, languid movements as he tried to picture the soft flesh stretched and swollen with his child.

His child.

A life created from the love and the passion that the two of you shared, to raise in the home you’d built together, to nurture with the kindness that you exhumed and to mold into a better person than he could’ve ever hoped to have been with the guidance only someone as patient as you could provide.

He’d never wanted to be a father, never thought he was capable of being a father.

But you, you made him feel as if he were capable of anything and as he had pulled his motorcycle over onto the side of the highway and wept that evening, he knew now without question that he wanted- no, needed you to bring his child into this world.

“Baby?”

Your sleepy voice penetrated his thoughts as you spoke into the dark room and reached your hands down to tenderly run your fingers through his brunette locks.

“You came home.” You mumbled, trying to rouse from your slumber enough to properly talk to him.

Bucky raised his head off of your belly, sliding his hand up your torso, through the valley of your breasts to settle at your nape. He gently cupped your jaw and tilted your head to look at him as he hovered above you.

“Of course I came home.” He says, the hurt evident in his tone. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You catch your bottom lip between your teeth to prevent it from quivering as your emotions begin to rise to the surface again.

“I don’t know. I just-“ You hesitate, worried that you’re toeing a fine line of sending him running again if you don’t choose your words carefully.

“Angel..”

He settles his thumb over your mouth, effectively silencing you as he gently strokes the pad of his calloused thumb across your bottom lip.

“I always come home.” He whispered, leaning down and tracing the tip of his nose across your jawline. “I will always come home to you.”

“I thought I’d scared you off.” You admit softlyly, reaching your hand down to caress his cheek, the light stubble rough against your skin.

He leans into your touch, his eyes slipping closed as he draws in a shaky breath.

“You could never scare me off.”

His jaw clenches and he opens his eyes, looking at you with a haunted gaze.

“If anything I’m scared of myself, doll.”

You move to sit up, wanting nothing more than to take him in your arms, chase the demons from behind his eyes with the comfort of your loving embrace but he’s quick to place a large hand between your breasts, firmly pressing you back down onto the mattress.

“No.”

He repositions himself above you, dipping his head and bracing his weight on his muscular forearms as he trails a line of open mouthed kisses down your bare abdomen.

His breath fans against the soft cotton of your panties as he hooks his fingers under the waistband and removes them at a torturously slow pace.

“I don’t wanna talk about me and my bullshit.” He says in a low voice, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh and sending a shiver up your spine.

“Actually, I don’t wanna talk at all.” He adds, lifting your legs to rest over his shoulders.

“Bucky.” You warn softly, reaching your hand down to push his hair off his forehead. “We really should talk about this. We can’t avoi-”

He steals the words from you when he gently spreads your folds with his fingers, his breathy chuckle warm against your sex.

“I’ve got a much better way to make use of my mouth.” He murmurs, bowing his head and glancing up at you with lustful eyes. The image of him between your thighs, looking at you with such intensity was enough to silence you entirely.

“Let me show my angel what heaven feels like.”

A desperate moan rises from your throat as Bucky laps at your weeping cunt in long, slow strokes with his flattened tongue. He laves upward, tracing gentle circles around your clit, catching the swollen bud between his lips and suckling, your back arching off the mattress in response.

“Fuck.” You whimper, carding your hands in his hair to hold him in place.

He hums, flitting the tip of his tongue downwards and dipping into your fluttering hole, drawing a gasp from your throat as he fucks you with it, euphoria building at the base of your spine.

“For an angel-“ He mumbles and raises his head up, his unshaven chin slick with your arousal, pinning you under his gaze as he sinks two fingers inside you and begins pumping them slowly.

“You sure do taste like sin.” He muses.

He latches back onto your clit, flicking his tongue in quick movements while simultaneously curling his fingers inside you, stroking you closer towards climax with every ministration.

“Baby, I- fuck!”

Fire erupts through your core and you clench around his fingers, tightening your grip on his hair and jerking your hips upward to grind your cunt against his face as you cry out in ecstasy.

He chuckles against your tender flesh as he withdraws his digits, the warmth of his breath causing you to writhe against the sheets as you ride through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“You’re so goddamned beautiful when you come.” He whispers, wiping his mouth on his forearm and shifting his weight against the bed as he rises momentarily up to discard his boxers.

He positions himself above you, bracing himself on his palms, his biceps flexing as he dips down to press a kiss to your pulse point.

Dazed and breathless, you reach down to guide him to your entrance, pausing when your hand curls around the warmth of his bare cock.

“Shit, condom.” You mumble, working to maneuver yourself out from under him in order to reach towards the bedside table.

He stops you with a loose grasp around your throat, gently pushing you back into the pillows.

“Don’t need one.” He breathes out, settling himself between your slick thighs.

Your brows furrow in confusion and your mouth falls open in question but he carefully slides his hand up your neck to grip your jaw, pulling you into a deep and sensual kiss.

You slide your hands across the expanse of his toned back, returning the kiss with equal intensity before he breaks it, resting his forehead against yours.

He silently guides your hand to his hard and aching cock, closing your fist around it as he releases a shuddered breath against cheek.

“You’re gonna take my cock.” He grunts, peppering kisses across your jawline. “You’re gonna take my cum.”

He bucks his hips against your grip, urging you to bring him against your weeping hole.

“And you’re going to have my baby.”

Your eyes widen at his words, the quiver in his voice telling you this isn’t just some form of dirty talk but that he’s sincere and desperate.

“Bucky, are you sure?” You ask in a broken whisper, clarifying for good measure.

“You are going to have my baby.” He repeats, his voice carrying demand.

You let out a whimper, lining him up with your entrance and withdrawing your hand once he presses the leaking tip of his cockhead into your cunt, quickly burying himself inside you with a purposeful thrust of his hips.

You gasp at the stretch and he stills, his pelvis flush against you, sucking in a sharp breath at the way your inner walls are gripping him, free of the confines of a condom for the very first time.

“Goddamnit, angel. I don’t think I’m going to last very long.” He chokes out, the feeling of your tight, wet cunt engulfing his cock leaving him nearly breathless.

God, what he would do to stay inside you like this forever.

He draws his hips back, retreating almost completely before thrusting back into you. His lips part and his brows knit, breathy moans rising from his throat as he picks up a rhythm, his very soul craving to feel you around every inch of his length.

His hunger for you is apparent with every deep and merciless thrust and that sense of needful longing sets your every nerve ablaze.

He crashes his mouth against yours, kissing you frantically as reaches for your hands, lacing your fingers together in a fervent grip.

Pleasure pools low in your abdomen and you bring your trembling legs up to wrap around his waist, rolling your hips up in sync with his strokes as you chase your climax.

He groans in response and increases his pace, his heavy sack slapping against your ass with every frenzied rut into you.

“Oh fuck, please, baby. Please come on my cock. God, I need to feel you. Fuck, fuck!” He pleads with a shuddering breath that betrays how desperately he’s fighting to maintain his tempo as he climbs closer towards the edge with every passing second.

The sight of this beautiful man barely able to refrain from falling apart for you, begging for you to come on his cock, is enough to break you. White hot pleasure spreads through your core, flooding your body in a wave of euphoria as you cry out for him in choked sobs.

“Bucky! James, baby!”

He pounds into you at a brutal pace, incapable of holding himself back any longer, drawing strangled noises from you as he fucks you through the waves of the orgasm gripping your body.

“I love you, I love you, I-“ You whimper over and over in a cock-drunk stupor, rocking your pelvis sloppily against his movements.

He grunts, his hips stuttering as he stammers out your name in a breathless plea before giving one final deep thrust and he stills, emptying himself inside you with a throaty moan.

Bucky slumps forward burying his face into your neck, words of praise falling from his lips in a whisper against your skin as you remain in each other's embrace, hearts racing and chests heaving in the afterglow.

The steady thumping of his heartbeat begins to lul you towards a state of peaceful sleep and as your eyes slip closed, you feel the bitter emptiness of him withdrawing from inside you only to jerk back to full consciousness at the sensation of his fingertips against the tender flesh of your swollen cunt.

As you start to rise up on your elbows in order to better observe what it is he’s doing, he softly shushes you, smirking as he trails his fingers along your slit, gathering up any of his seed that had managed to escape your aching hole and gently pump it back in with his fingers.

“Not letting you waste a drop.” He murmurs, collapsing onto the bed beside you and reaching an arm around your waist to pull your back against his broad chest.

He envelops you in his warmth, his strong arms wrapped lovingly around you as he rests his nose against the crown of your head, slowly and deeply inhaling your scent.

“What made you change your mind?” You ask softly, snuggling your cheek against the bicep of his flesh arm.

His vibranium arm drapes across your abdomen and he splays his palm above your pelvic bone, gently brushing the cool metal of his thumb back and forth in affectionate strokes along your bare skin.

“You.” He replies, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Me?” You ask incredulously. “How the hell did I manage to change your mind about something you were so adamant about? We didn’t even talk about it, Buck. I just told you what I wanted.”

He sighs, settling his chin atop your head. “You’re right, we didn’t.” He admits in a low voice. “But you know I’m a man of few words, angel.”

“But that doesn’t mean we just avoid the subject completely and then jump headfirst into this. Not that I’m complaining, it’s just that I need to understand how you managed to get here. That was- this was unexpected.” You respond, placing a gentle hand over his forearm and stroking your fingertips lazily across the spray of soft, dark curls adorning it. “You say you’re a man of few words but I know damn well you have a lot to say, you just don’t like saying it. You don’t like grappling with your emotions, Bucky. I think maybe its because you spent so long having them repressed against your will.”

He’s silent for a beat before drawing in a slow breath and in those several moments of quiet you feel a rising sense of dread that maybe you had overstepped with your assessment.

“Do you know why I call you ‘angel’?” He asks quietly, his thumb stilling against your lower belly.

You tilt your head in confusion. “What?” You question, your own fingers slowing their leisurely circles along his arm. “Baby, you’re deflecting.”

“I’m not.” He explains, raising his head, his thumb resuming its languid strokes across your skin. “Just answer my question.”

You huff, resisting the urge to roll your eyes by instead moving them back and forth to follow the movements of his thumb. “It’s a pet name, like baby or doll.”

He shakes his head and lets out a soft chuckle, his breath tickling the back of your neck.

“It’s a pet name, yeah. But do you know why I call you that?” He asks.

You shrug. “No, I guess I don’t.” You reply, tilting your head back to look up at him. “Are you gonna tell me?”

His lips curve into a smile as he looks down at you and in the dim light of the bedroom you notice how glassy his eyes appear, as if he’s just a blink away from a tear escaping his blue eyes.

“Because you saved me.” He whispers with a small crack in his voice that makes your heart ache. You want to ask him how- how he could possibly say something as bold as that you saved him, but your breath is caught in your chest at the vulnerability Bucky is showing you in this moment.

“Baby, when you met me I was so broken. I think maybe I still am.” He continues, resting his cheek against your shoulder in a clear attempt to hide his expression from you because he was stubborn and you were right. Emotion was not something Bucky expressed freely because he spent nearly his entire life with them suppressed so if he had any hope of baring his soul to you now, he couldn’t possibly let you see his face as he did it.

“No one dared to get close to me because they were too afraid of getting cut on the shattered pieces of who I was. But not you. Never you.” He explains, pausing as he draws in a slow and shaky breath while he considers how to express how much you mean to him when he wasn’t entirely sure there were even words capable of doing so.

In his brief pause you shift your weight, rolling over to face him properly before he continues.

“You didn’t care if you got cut because you saw something in me worth believing in and you weren’t afraid to bleed to get to it. You rebuilt me. You saved me.” His voice is hoarse as he struggles to hold his composure and keep from breaking down completely. “Your faith in me gave me hope- it gives me hope that maybe I’m capable of more than I think I am.”

A single tear finally breaks free, slipping free of his lashes and sliding slowly down his cheek in the wake of his heart lay bare to you.

“You give me too much credit.” You whisper, reaching up to brush away his tear with a trembling thumb. Your touch lingers on his skin and he places his hand overtop yours, pressing your palm to his cheek as he pins you under his tender gaze.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” He counters.

“Neither do you.”

He opens his mouth to argue but closes it and sighs when he realizes you’re right. You’re always right.

“I love you. I love all of you- every single piece, including ones you say are broken.” You whisper, offering him a soft smile as you gently push the hair back from his sweat-slicked forehead.

“They are broken.” He breathes out.

“I don’t think that’s true. If it were, could you really love me the way that you do? Think about it, Bucky. After everything you’ve suffered? You’re not broken, you’re unbreakable.”

He hesitates, running his hand down his face to mask the way it crumples at your words and wipe away the tears now falling steadily down his cheeks.

“I don’t deserve you.” He whispers.

You sit upright, leaning forward and cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes.

“You deserve everything, Bucky. Life owes you love. It owes you kindness for fucks sake.”

“Not after what I’ve done.” He mutters, the ghosts of his past flickering behind his eyes as he begins to retreat down that godforsaken rabbit hole inside his head again but you won’t allow it. Not this time.

“Especially after what you’ve done. Because you weren’t given a choice.”

He shakes his head, his eyes squeezing shut as if he can’t bear to let you see him this way.

“And what happens when they find out who- what I used to be?” He asks in a pained tone, nodding towards your belly as if he somehow believes his seed has already taken root in your womb. “They’ll find out. We won’t be able to shelter them from the truth.”

“Baby, look at me.” You demand, your expression stern as you rise up and lean forward on your knees. “Will it matter when they only know you as the you that you truly are? How can I make you see yourself the way that I see you?”

Bucky sighs, his shoulders slouching. “What would I do without you?” He asks quietly, resting his hand against your thigh and kneading the flesh beneath his fingers.

“Never have clean laundry or dishes.” You tease in an attempt to lighten the sullen mood. He stares up at you in disbelief for several long moments before unexpectedly delivering a swift smack to your bare ass, drawing a yelp from you that is immediately followed by a string of lighthearted giggles.

“Damnit, doll- I’m being serious!”

“So am I!” You argue, stifling a laugh. “I found a cereal bowl under the bed!”

He groans, covering his face with his hands. “It was one time.”

You smirk, your eyebrow quirking up in skepticism.

“That’s one time too many.”

“You’re ridiculous.” He grumbles.

“But you love me.”

He hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you into his embrace with a dramatic groan and you rest your head against his chest, draping your arms around his neck.

“I do.” He whispers, tracing his fingertips along your spine. “More than I could ever begin to explain.”

“A broken man couldn’t love me. A broken man wouldn’t know how to love me.” You point out. “And God, baby- you make me feel loved every moment of every single day.”

His breath catches and you can hear his heartbeat begin to quicken in his chest against your ear before he rolls over abruptly, pinning you underneath him as he looks down at you with an expression of adoration and that familiar fire in his gaze.

You tilt your chin up, a grin stretching across your face as you place your palm against his chest and state proudly, “You are James Buchanan Barnes and you are-“

He devours the words from your mouth before you can finish speaking them as he kisses you with urgency, stealing the breath from your lungs with the way his mouth moves desperately against yours.

Your hands explore his toned back, the feeling of his muscles flexing under your touch driving you to greedily draw his body closer to yours until he settles his weight onto you.

He breaks the kiss with a smirk on his lips as your head falls back, sucking in a sharp inhale at the warmth of his cock pressing into the soft flesh of your bare thigh, already hard and weeping for you again.

He lowers his head, nuzzling his forehead against your temple as he completes your stolen sentence in a whisper against the shell of your ear:

“Unbreakable.”

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[rinhaler]

🥲👉🏾👈🏾I was gonna say could do Stepdadcest with Gojo ft your stepbrothers Sukuna and Yuji? Like you usually do "things" with Gojo but your stepbrothers are becoming really jealous cause they want some of you too. So it's like you're getting passed around-

(This is so embarrassing for me because I'm not usually into this type of thing but it's hot)

hi bb im sorry this took so long! ive been having a tough time irl and i found this req very challenging but i hope it's okay for you! thanks for sending it it was so yummy! (also pls never be embarrassed here it's v hot and i welcome it and you)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, stepcest, running a train, multiple creampies, belly bulge, daddy!kink, fingering/rubbing, tit sucking, blood mention, slight degradation, praise, spanking, male masturbation.

words: 1.5k

“Sukuna!” you yell, doing all you can to wriggle away from him. But it’s hopeless. His cock splits you open as he effortlessly raises you up and down the length again and again until your brain turns to mush.

“You’re being too rough with her, dude.” Yuuji sighs, fingers rubbing your puffy clit as you’re bounced on your oldest brother’s length. “Am I right? Is it too much for you?” Yuuji asks, holding your chin carefully so that you can look at him.

You nod, biting your lip as you do your best to balance your body while Sukuna fucks up into you. He snarls, fucking harder when he notices your hips trying to meet his thrusts.

“S’that why you’re trying to get off on my cock? Hm? Look at you, getting off on your big brother like a little whore.” Sukuna teases, his fingers digging into your sides, nails piercing the skin hard enough to draw blood. “S’okay, don’t be embarrassed.”

Your face flushes with heat as you hear his lewd language, your eyes scrunching closed to shut out the humiliating situation you found yourself in. Yuuji looks up at you innocently, monitoring your facial expressions as he carries on teasing your clit. His face moves up your body, latching his lips around your tit and suckling without letting up on the sensitive bead between your folds.

“What’s going on in here?” you hear the all too familiar lilt of your stepfather’s voice as he enters the room. You gasp, humiliated that he’s caught the three of you in this predicament. You want to scream, hide, run away. Anything to leave your stepdad’s line of vision as he stares at you with an intensity you’ve never seen before.

Your brother’s barely register his presence. Sukuna’s thrusting shows no intention of slowing while Yuuji tries to pull you away from him.

“That’s enough, it’s my turn.” he tells him, pulling you away from his older sibling and pushing you down into the mattress. Your shoulder blades are flat against the bed as you stare up at him caging you in. “Don’t wanna hurt you… but I can’t wait.” he warns you, sliding his tip up and down your slippery flesh before pushing into you.

“Fuck.” you exhale, wet eyes blinking up at Yuuji as he starts to rock his hips.

“Stop it.” Satoru huffs, approaching you all coolly before cupping your face. “She’s only used to daddy…” beaming blue eyes bore down into your own as he monitors your facial expressions while Yuuji continues using you as his own little toy.

“’m s-sorry daddy—”

“Ah… enough of that. You made your choice. So let your brother’s finish what they started. Go on, Yuuji. Fill her up.” your stepfather commands, even going as far as to press his hand on Yuuji’s lower back and helping him grind into you.

It was no surprise to Gojo that Yuuji met his end quicker than he’d hoped. He knew he wasn’t a virgin but by no means experienced. And your step father is all too familiar with how your tight, petite cunt could bring a porn star to an instant ruin. Your little hole is akin to a siren luring sailors to their deaths after the promise of love for a lifetime, your warm heat is too much for Yuuji to withstand for too long.

And Sukuna teases him, embarrassing him as he grunts loudly and stuffs you full of cum. He doesn’t stop, though, his softening cock still humping into you again and again, overstimulating himself until he’s shuddering and close to tears. You mewl, cutely, as he kisses along your jaw and whispers sweet nothings against your neck.

“Say thank you to your brother.” your step father commands, smoothing your hair down whilst his eyes pierce your soul. You aren’t sure if you are thankful or if his demanding stare pulled the response from you, but you find yourself nodding and thanking your brother sweetly, kissing his lips as he slowly withdraws himself from you. “Now, Sukuna, how do you want her?”

Your eldest brother growls with a sinister smile. He doesn’t even bother to answer, flipping your exhausted body so that your ass is in the air and your face is in your pillows.

He slams his hips against you in one fell swoop, bottoming out in your gummy walls with no remorse. You aren’t sure he’ll last so long, either, considering he’d been fucking you for some time before Yuuji took over. But it hurts. God, it hurts. He’s a little bigger and slightly thicker than his younger brother, his tip relentlessly rams into your g-spot until your vision goes white.

“Stay with us, sweetheart. Stay with daddy.” Satoru whispers, pushing your tousled hair out of your face as he commands your focus again. You can barely look at him, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as your big brother fucks you so ruthlessly yet perfectly. “You’re doing good, kid. You’re gonna cum for us, yeah?” he smiles and you begin to moan.

Yuuji can’t help but play with himself as he hears your pretty moans. While Sukuna digs his fingers into the fat of your ass, spanking you as he tries to fuck himself into you at the deepest possible angle.

“F-Fuck, fuck—!” Sukuna pants, spilling a copious amount of cum inside of you alongside your other brothers. You were getting so full, and you feel so warm. But you know you’re not done. You still haven’t came and there’s only one man left.

“See, boys, this is why I don’t share.” Satoru speaks as he scoops you into his arms. You do your best to keep your brothers loads inside while your daddy pulls out his cock, it’s hard to do so when a simple tilt of his head tells you that he wants you to straddle him. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, daddy’ll take care of you…” he assures you. He spits on his hand, stroking his cock a few times before lining it up with your hole. You bite your lip as you lower yourself down.

“You look so pretty…” Yuuji smiles at you, his thumb rubbing your cheek briefly before withdrawing to watch how your dad stretches out your tight little cunt.

His hips rise and fall, the base of his cock and the fluffy white pubes stimulating your sticky clit again and again as your generous daddy does all of the work. The creamy ring forming is almost enough to make him blow his load in an instant. He can see how spent you are despite not cumming. How weary your body is after dealing with your clueless brothers for so long. But he’s here now, and he’ll always know how to best take care of you.

Yuuji and Sukuna can’t help but admire the way your tits bounce with each and every thrust you endure. They can see a stark difference in your pleasure, being with the most trusted man in your life who knows every ridge of your tight walls. They admire the way you moan so beautifully and unashamedly for your daddy. Whatever energy you lacked comes racing back to you as you ride him in search of your orgasm.

Satoru’s fingers dig into your hips, raising you up and down his length with an anticipating fervour, expecting you to crumble at any moment.

And you do.

You both do and you are practically screaming in a newly discovered pitch as your cunt clenches around your daddy. Sukuna spanks you, his palm stinging your flesh each time an expletive spills out of you. Words you have no hope of controlling or recalling as you lose your mind and body to your daddy.

And he fills you perfectly.

Ropes and ropes of cum filling your womb to the point there is a visible bulge. And he smirks. Still managing to rut into you as he moves you onto your back once again to show Yuuji and Sukuna your swollen tummy. He pulls out, carefully, a little spilling from you before pushing your legs up into your chest.

“Watch…” he looks at your brothers before all of their eyes focus in on your puffy pussy. His fingers splay across your stomach before slowly pressing down. He gasps, slightly, and your brothers eyes widen and fill with lust as all three of them watch the considerable amount of cum seeps out of your cute little hole like a leaking donut. “Oh, princess, you’re so gorgeous.” Satoru compliments you. You’d hide your face in embarrassment if you weren’t so tired.

“Adorable. She’s like our own personal cum dump.” Sukuna speaks, trying not to laugh but unable to hide the teasing smirk on his face.

All you can do is look at them. Feel them, inside and out. The feeling of their cum dripping out of you will be a memory that stays with you forever. And seeing their eyes raking all over you makes you feel so special. Of all of the girls in the world. All of the beautiful, perfect, experienced girls in the whole wide world, all three of them chose you.

Your daddy chose his daughter.

And your brother’s chose their sister.

All three of them couldn’t help but want to fuck you.

© 2023 rinitxshi

[revasserium]

can i have one were zoro realises she does things bc of truama (like doesnt speak much etc)

hold me (still)

opla!zoro; 6,680 words; slow!!!!burn, fem!reader, ex-assassin!reader, straw hat!reader, general tragic backstory/trauma, fluff, hurt/comfort, bit of angst, emotionally constipated zoro, communication? what's that?, nami playing therapist bc she's the only one with 1 iota of emotional intelligence

summary: sometimes, stillness is a virtue, and others -- a tragedy. or, in which the straw hats pick up a new member and zoro is equally intrigued and weirded out by you.

a/n: well. you guys asked for slow burn and... the burn is so slow u gotta squint to see the smoke yall. but trust. the burn does get there! pls be patient!! and i tried to combine 2 dif reqs in this one fic :)

You are of the quiet sort. Just a shadow dancing in the periphery of their vision, and when they first met you, you’d told them it was your superpower, a soft, still smile slipping across your lips. Luffy had bought into it immediately, and the invitation was out his mouth before anyone could stop him.

“Come with us!”

“Oh…” your lips pressed into a thin line of consideration.

Zoro’s fingers itched towards his swords because something about you makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. But something else — something uncomfortable and strange, something very much like curiosity — seizes his chest and twists his stomach. Strange, he thinks, too strange.

“C’mon! It’ll be fun!”

And then, you’d smiled wider, and nodded, and that had been that.

It’s been three months since then, and you are still of the quiet sort, though it had receded a bit with time. What with Sanji’s gentle flirting and Usopp’s not-so-gentle stories and Nami’s bright, dry-humored companionship, you’d begun to “open up a bit”, so Luffy observed.

Zoro, for his part, has kept his distance. Because sometimes he still catches you at the bow of the ship, staring out across the midnight waters, still as a stone-carved statue. Still as a wooden beam — stiller, even.

“What’s with that?” he asks one day, strolling up to Nami as she traces a fine line over a new map she’s working on.

“Hm?” is her very eloquent response.

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth and casts his eyes about the ship, finding them drawn to the shape of you, up at the bow again, reading in the shade of the tangerine trees. Nothing moves except for the wind as it whisps through your hair and the slow scanning of your eyes as it skates across the page.

“New girl,” Zoro says, crossing his arms as Nami finally looks up at him and then off towards you.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Zoro lets out a puff of breath, unfolding his arms to glare at Nami. He finds her grinning a lopsided grin as she clicks shut her compass and puts down her pen. She leans a hip on the barrel she’d been drawing on and folds her own arms.

“Oh, you like her.”

“I’m weirded out by her. ‘S not the same thing,” Zoro snaps, but when he tries to leave, Nami blocks him with an arm and pins him with a sharp, leveling look.

“No, no, no — we’re gonna work this through.”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

“Uh-uh, you still owe me after that round of drinks the other night — remember when you bet you could drink more than me?”

Zoro narrows his eyes, “I did drink more than you.”

Nami’s grin is gleeful, “No, you didn’t. You had to be dragged back to your room after clogging up the toilet. Or do I need to show you the evidence —”

“Alright — fuck, fine. But really? This is what you’re gonna waste your favor on? You could’ve asked me to —” Zoro gestures around vaguely, “clean the bilge or something.”

Nami shrugs, looking almost too pleased, “Nope! This is what I wanna use my favor for. And, really, you think a bit of bilge water is gonna gross me out? C’mon.”

Zoro heaves a sigh and leans back against the main mast, closing his eyes.

“Fine then. Go.”

Nami sits back on the edge of the barrel.

“No, you go. Admit that you like the new girl.”

“I don’t.” He doesn’t open his eyes.

“I’ve seen you staring at her. We’ve all seen you staring at her.”

“What, that a crime now?”

Nami fights the urge to roll her eyes, “No, but I’ve never seen you try so hard to avoid someone before.”

Zoro lets out a bark of laughter, hard and mirthless, “Yeah, so that must mean I like her.”

Nami cocks her head, “It means you feel something towards her. And I’d suggest you figure it out.”

“And how’d you propose I do that?”

Nami once again waves in your direction, “Go. Talk. To her.”

Zoro lets out another breath, eyes scanning across the ship, anywhere but towards where you’re still sitting and reading, finger flipping a page in a perfect, smooth, singular motion.

And Zoro’s not blind. Blunt though he may be at times and careless as he is about most material things, he can still appreciate beauty when he sees it. And you — there’s no denying that you’re beautiful. Your strange stillness aside, when you do move, it’s with a dancer’s lissome grace, fluid lines, not a single movement wasted. When you smile, it seems to light you up from the inside, and your words, though soft, carries the well-worn weight of river stones, glittering beneath the clear, spring stream of your voice.

There’s a sharpness in your eyes, a straightness to your spine, a way of carrying yourself as if you’re afraid that one wrong move might shatter you and the entire world around you.

Sometimes when he sees you, he wonders at the hands that had sculpted you this way. He wonders at your life before they’d picked you up in Loguetown, when you’d oh-so-silently slipped up the execution platform and helped Luffy down, all the while staying free of Smoker’s watchful gaze.

The few times he’s seen you fight, he can’t help wondering if you’ve eaten some kind of devil fruit as well. No human could be so fast as that. Or be so quiet. But then again, he’d fought Kuro, and they’d seen stranger things. Still, he marvels at the way you flicker in and out of sight, slipping around the edges of battle like a dark, haunting thing, and men would drop like flies beneath your quick, quiet hands. With nary a sound or shout before their eyes roll back and their breathing is no more.

On the instances when Sanji had asked about your past, your eyes had gone misty and dark, unfocused. You’d gone still, freezing for so long that Usopp would cough just to fill the silence. And then slowly, ever so slowly, you’d turn back towards them with a small, sad smile and say:

“There’s… not much to talk about. I grew up somewhere far away, where if you didn’t keep quiet and still, bad things would happen to you. And then when those bad things happened, if you weren’t quick — the quickest of all, you’d die.”

Bad things, huh? Zoro thinks as he makes his way towards you, a hand resting on the hilt of his swords. He comes to a stop next to you and leans against one of the white planters, casually peering over your shoulder at the book in your hands.

For a long moment, neither of you move. Then, Zoro clears his throat and forces himself to speak.

“Is it good?”

It takes you a second, but eventually, you turn towards him.

“The book? Yeah, I suppose.”

“Not exactly a glowing review.”

You laugh, a soft, breathy little thing as you look back down at the page.

“It's about a girl who falls into an enchanted sleep, and a prince who wakes her up with a kiss.”

“Must’ve been one hell of a kiss.”

“Yes, and one hell of a prince.”

Zoro finds himself chuckling, his shoulders loosening as he takes another breath.

“And then what?” he asks.

“And then… he asks her to marry him.”

You run your fingers along the page, smoothing your palm over the ink and parchment. Zoro watches you, wondering, always wondering.

“What’s she say?” and it’s then that he notices his own voice, hushed and low, barely a whisper.

You look back up at him and smile a smile a sphynx would have been proud of.

“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten there yet.”

Zoro takes a breath, and the breath tastes distinctly different than all the breaths he’d taken before it. As if the world takes the breath with him, and some fundamental truth had shifted on the exhale.

The moment breaks, as moments are wont to do, when Sanji calls out for lunch and Zoro jerks out of his almost-reverie. You slowly close your book and rise to your feet, turning back to smile at him.

“C’mon, it’s lunchtime.”

Zoro nods and follows you into the kitchen, where Luffy and Usopp are already digging in, and Nami is pouring herself a drink. She spots the pair of you and catches Zoro’s eyes. A grin ticks at the edge of her lips but before she can say anything, you’re accosted by Sanji sweeping into a deep, flourishing bow, and ushering you towards the table, where he’d set your place in a manner fit for a princess.

“Where’s my setup?” Zoro asks as he drops into the seat next to you, cocking an eyebrow. Sanji shoots him an unimpressed look.

“I’m surprised you can use a fork and knife, moss-head. Just be grateful and eat up.”

Zoro scoffs but digs in nonetheless.

When next they dock, it’s on a rare, peaceful island — an island of light and books and learning, where the air smells of salt and ink and drying parchment, of unwritten words and untold stories. But it smells of a stillness too, and Zoro knows without having to ask that you’d like it here.

And you do.

He’s never seen you smile so much, never seen you so vibrant and full of life. You chat and laugh and read with a voracious hunger, and he finds himself drawn to this new, warm, moving side of you. He finds himself, more often than not, by your side, even when neither of you speak. And he basks in the comfort of the quiet that permeates the air when it’s just the two of you — him hanging in the hammock on deck, you reading by his side.

But now, there’s the soft tapping of your foot, the shuffle of pages when you flip forward to see what’s coming next, and of course the ever-present shush of the ocean as it washes against the Merry’s side.

The Log Pose needs two weeks to properly calibrate to the next island, so they’ve got time to kill.

On the fifth night, over dinner and drinks, Luffy asks the question that everyone’s been thinking since the day they’d all met you —

“So. Why’re you so still all the time? Not that it’s weird or anything — well, actually — it kind of is, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m just asking cause I'm curious!”

You look up from your half-finished wine but Zoro feels it happening, like the hush of a fan blade slicing through air, the gasp before a porcelain vase tips over and shatters. You stop. You stare. You’re frozen in every sense of the word. And he’s known you for long enough to know that you only go still as a reflex, only reach for it as a shield. Against what? He doesn’t quite know.

“It’s… something of a long story,” you say, your voice low and hoarse.

Luffy grins, smacking his lips as he sucks the meat off a chicken leg, “We’ve got tons of time! Right?” he looks around as if for validation, but everyone’s eyes are caught on you and your unnatural stillness.

Zoro shifts slightly in the seat next to you, opening his stance and turning towards you.

“Could do with a good story.”

Your eyes flash in his direction and he offers you the barest hint of a smile.

You relax, ever so slightly, drifting back in your seat, your glass cupped in the palms of your hands. And then, you begin to speak, your voice smooth and lilting, your words washing over them like the faint lull of the tides.

“When I was three, my father sold me for a barrel of beer.”

A dull clack echoes around the room and everyone turns to see Sanji hurriedly righting the thick stein he’s knocked over. Thankfully, it’d been empty.

“Sorry — I just — what?” he sounds furious but Usopp lays a hand across his arm and shakes his head.

You take a deep breath and continue, your voice oddly emotionless as you say, “The man who bought me took me to an island. It was… a dark place. A quiet place. I only learned its name after I escaped — an island called Elysium.”

Nami gasps before clapping her hands over her mouth.

“I’ve just — I’ve heard of that place before, but I thought… I thought it was just a made-up place.”

Luffy swallows hard, frowning, “What’s it like?”

Nami’s eyes flicker between you and Luffy, “Supposedly… it’s the home island for… for the most feared group of assassins in all the seas combined.”

Usopp’s eyebrows jerk up, “The most feared?”

A faint smile seeps across your lips like blood.

“Yes. The Shadows that Live.”

Everyone turns to look at you. Luffy picks up another drumstick.

“Whoa… cool name!”

Zoro hums, “I’ve heard of them before — but mostly, it was just an old wive’s tale about… shadow assassins who hunt in the dark. Mercenaries for hire. But… no one’s ever seen one before.”

“Because… once you see one, you’ll never live to tell the tale,” you say, your eyes now downcast and fixed on the glass in your hands.

“Then…” Usopp’s voice is soft, “What about… you?”

“I… I ran away.”

Silence greets you. But after a moment, Luffy spits out a bit of bone and uses it to pick at the space between his teeth, his eyes round.

“Wow! You must be pretty good to run away from an island full of shadow assassins!”

You almost laugh, his boundless trust hitting you like a punch to the stomach.

“So…” Sanji lets out a puff of silvery smoke, “the staying still thing… that’s just part of your training, yeah?”

You nod, “Something like that.”

Someday, you think, you’ll tell them about the hellscape that was Elysium island, of the long echoing halls, dark and still and silent. Of the mechanical beasts that hunted by sound and movement alone. Someday, you’ll let them know about the poisoned pomegranate seeds that they feed all the “recruits” to keep them hazy, of how you’d kept six of them suspended in your mouth and spat them all out when you’d finally made it far enough from the island to allow yourself to breathe.

“And… are these shadow assassins gonna come after us?” Nami asks, her voice careful and light.

You purse your lips, “I… I don’t know.”

Nami sighs, but a moment later, she moves to refill her drink with a slight shrug, “Well, just one more enemy to add to our growing list. Soon, we’re gonna have to post a sign-up sheet.”

At this, everyone laughs, and the tension snaps like a wounded spring.

Luffy burps loudly, patting his stomach, “I’m not worried — I mean, if you were able to run away from them once, that means you’re stronger than them, right?”

You pause, your hand hovering over the wine bottle. Zoro gently reaches over and refills your glass for you. You shift back into movement, casting him a small smile and taking a sip. The wine is cool and tangy as it hits the back of your throat. You breathe, and the world keeps spinning.

“I… I’m not sure — I’ve never fought… any of… them… before.”

“Guess we’ll find out if they try to come for you then — but you’ve got us now!” Luffy says, reaching for an apple and chomping into it, “ — Sho… you duon gotta wourry —” he licks his lips as he takes another huge bite before tossing the core towards the waste bin, “We’ve got your back!”

Nami makes a disgusted face, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, ugh.”

Sanji chuckles, tapping out his cigarette, “Yeah Luffy, mind your manners.” But his voice is full of laughter and you find yourself relaxing into the sway of the night, the swing of conversation. Beside you, Zoro refills his own glass and leans over to clink it against yours.

You turn, but he only raises his glass before taking a sip.

You mirror his movement, cradling the cup to your chest when you finish.

Later, he finds you by the tangerine trees, ghosting your fingers over their lush green leaves, dark enough to look black in the evening light.

“Hey.”

You turn, “Hi.”

Zoro sighs and looks out over the darkened waves, the moonlight refracted into a million shattered bits of sky.

“Luffy’s right, y’know.”

“What about?” you ask, joining him by the railings. The night air is cool and crisp. Behind you both, the island oozes with lamplight and laughter. Even from here, you can hear the joy, the peace that permeates the air here. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, you think, to stay here forever.

“If they come for you,” Zoro says, “we’ll have your back.”

You let out a small chuckle, looking down at your hands, “I know.”

“So,” he turns towards you, his earrings glinting in beneath the scimitar moon, “you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

You lick your lips, and instinctively, you reach for the stillness. All the days and weeks and months with the people around you have softened you, and for that, you know you should be thankful. Still, old habits die hard, and you have to clench your fists and dig your nails into your own palms to keep from freezing completely.

You take a shivering breath and force it out again.

“Fear’s a hard habit to break.”

At this, Zoro grunts, though it sounds something like consent. The moment stretches, long and soft and taffy-sweet.

He turns back towards the sea, “Yeah,” he says, and then —

“But we can take it slow.”

You swallow hard, passed the broken shards of forgotten words lodged in your throat (you find that they all somehow taste like thank you), and you nod. Warmth tickles your cheeks and you wonder why he’s said we instead of you — and later, lying in your bed at night, staring at the moon-slatted ceiling, you wonder if he was really talking about fear or if it was something else entirely.

You don’t get a lick of sleep that night.

The next few days pass in a light, repetitive blur. You and Zoro are sent on a few short shopping trips in the city, and you’re glad for something to do that involves movement. Shocking how quickly the body adapts once the weight it’d been holding on to is lifted.

You are still quiet, and he, the same; but the silence has shifted around you, and whereas before it’d been solid and steady, it’s now thrumming and charged with some unspoken energy.

Neither of you are blind to it; nor, it seems, is the rest of the crew.

Sanji’s taken to openly teasing Zoro about being with you all the time, complaining loudly that he can’t get a word in edgewise because Zoro refuses to leave you alone. Nami keeps on trying to drag you out for “girl's day” shopping trips, hinting at all the cute clothes you could get and how “green really suits your skin tone, y’know?”

Luffy and Usopp for their part, both just grin whenever they see you together — Luffy stoked at the fact that you seem more happy and talkative, Usopp gleeful at the way Zoro always seems so much softer when he’s next to you.

You’ve taken to watching him when he trains, sitting in the shade of the tangerine trees, a cold drink in your hand as Zoro runs through his katas. You content yourself with watching him flow through the movements, one and then another, and then another after that. He contents himself with your presence, knowing that you’re here, feeling your eyes as they skate down the length of his back or the width of his shoulders.

It’s a peaceful sort of companionship, even if it is living on borrowed time.

When you all wave the little island goodbye, it’s with heavy hearts and tearful smiles. It had treated you well, and you think you’d miss it. But adventure is as adventure does — it calls, beckoning to those with wandering hearts to listen.

The first week back at sea is a strange one, full of a ringing nostalgia. As if you’re simultaneously coming home and leaving one at the same time. Everyone is a bit quiet, except for Luffy, of course, who literally bounces off the freshly waxed planks, humming to himself as he sits on top of the great ram’s figurehead.

“Is he ever still?” you ask one day, sometime in the second week.

To which Zoro makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh, “You’ve been here a while. What’d you think?”

You sigh softly and tear your eyes away from the bright, shivering ball of energy that is your captain towards the far horizon. A sliver of uncertainty twines through you and your breath slows. Zoro glances at you, now long since attuned to your subtle shifts in movement and stillness. He narrows his eyes.

“What is it?”

You shake yourself back into the moment, forcing a smile.

“Nothing. I think…” your words fade as the feeling twists in you again, knife-sharp and stinging. You clear your throat and reach up to brush away a strand of hair. Skin grazes skin as Zoro’s hand meets yours in the same gesture and you both freeze — hands held up, his finger caught against the bend of your cheekbone, your fingers curling over his.

Time slows, slackens around the pair of you, and the moment stays, suspended in space — garnet dark and perfect.

Neither of you dare to breathe. It’s then that you realize how close Zoro is — close enough for you to see the entire ocean reflected in his eyes: big and dark and so endless it nearly unmoors you. Close enough for you to feel the warmth of his skin; his body, emanating heat. You’d often wondered, in the long hours of watching him train, at the glistening copper of his skin and the light-kissed quality, if the sun himself favored Zoro as well.

Like this, it’s easy to believe that beneath his skin, there pulsed something like sunlight.

“Look! It’s an island! It’s an island!”

And just like that, the moment shatters. Time slips back into motion and you pull away from each other, breathless, with warm cheeks and thundering hearts, feeling somehow lightning-touched and static-ridden.

You take half a step back, reaching up to press a hand to your mouth as if to stop something from tumbling through. But what? You can’t really say.

Zoro tips back as well, whipping around to help Usopp and Sanji with the sails as Luffy continues to holler, waving his hat. On the horizon, you see it looming — the silhouette of an island. You lower your palm from your lips to your heart and wonder what kind of island it will be.

Deserted — seems to be the answer when you all make landfall. The island is quiet, but the occasional chirp and cricket staves off your nerves as you all wander cautiously about the beach, squinting into the dense forest that seems to encompass the whole of the island.

“Looks like a good place to camp for the night!” Luffy says, grinning as he plops down on the sand.

Sanji nods, dusting off his hands, “We’ll need some wood for a fire, but I reckon I can whip up some grilled fish from the fresh catch.”

You wrap your arms around yourself and look around, glancing back at the darkening horizon.

“Something the matter?” Zoro’s voice is soft as he helps you carry some of the camping supplies from the ship.

“No… yes… I —” you look up at him, pursing your lips, “I don’t know. I’ve just… this island is…”

Zoro looks around, his dark eyes scanning the thick swath of forest just beyond the beach, “Too quiet?”

You let out a tiny laugh, “Yeah, something like that.”

He nods, “Don’t worry, I’m — we’re here.”

And he leaves it at that, hoisting a stack of wood over his shoulders and going to help Nami with the fire. You watch him with a smile, wondering what on earth you’d done to deserve this level of caring, this magnitude of kindness. Soon, dinner is had and drinks are shared and laughter is spilled like so many silver coins over the white sand beach. The lull of the evening takes over you all, and before long, Luffy and Usopp are slumped over each other, snoring loudly.

You stare into the depths of the fire and try to tamp down the growing dread festering inside your bones. All those years of holding still, of breathing and listening and feeling — you shake yourself — no, not all stillness is a bad thing. Not all silences are made the same.

“You’re doing it again,” Zoro’s voice almost makes you jump. Instead, you turn, finding him next to you as he nurses a half-drunk bottle of wine in his hands. He doesn’t look at you, but there’s a loose grin hinged across his lips.

“Sorry,” you say, ducking your head, feeling a now familiar heat creep into your cheeks that has nothing to do with the dwindling bonfire.

“Don’t be,” Zoro takes another drink, “But I told you… you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“I know… and I’ve said before —”

“Fear’s a hard habit to break,” Zoro echoes back at you, finally glancing over and catching your eye.

You breathe out, looking down at your own hands, “Yeah… but I’m trying.”

You both fall silent, and for a while, the only sounds are the crackle of the dying flames, the shush of the ocean waves, and the occasional snores from the rest of your crew. It’s late — later than you realized.

“Do you… want me to grab a book for you?”

You smile, “No, I don’t think it’s bright enough.”

“I could restoke the fire.”

“No, it’s — it’s okay.”

“Alright.”

A bird coos the distance.

“Why don’t you tell me a story?” you ask, turning to look at Zoro proper, shifting till your body is facing him.

In the faint light, you can see the edge of his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“You’re asking the wrong guy — you should wait till the Great Captain Usopp’s awake.”

“Yeah, but I want to hear one from you.”

Zoro sighs, his eyes fixed on the last of the flickering flames. He takes another swig of wine before he starts to speak, his voice low and a bit stilted, but he pushes on. He tells you about his childhood, the village he’d trained in, the doujou in the middle of the wood, his friend who he’d never beat — not even once.

He tells you about he early mornings and the late nights, and how the world had seemed large enough to conquer.

“… And then… there came a morning when she didn’t show up… and sensei came and told me that there’d been an accident.”

His voice almost breaks then, and your eyes catch on the shining white hilt of the Wadou Ichimonji — his thumb pressing against the guard, running along it’s hard metal edge.

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

Zoro shrugs, “Don’t be.”

You nod, “Still.”

Zoro slates you a lopsided smirk, “So. Now you know my tragic backstory too.”

You laugh, leaning back to cast your eyes up towards the sky, “And you know mine — it’s almost like we’re friends or something.”

Zoro lets out a long breath, “Yeah… or something.”

There’s a tightness to his voice that makes your skin tingle and it takes everything you have not to look over at him, to try and see if he’s looking at you, watching you the way you’d imagined him to be. You fancy you can feel his gaze on your face, but you close your eyes instead.

You let yourself fall into the warm haze of sleep, and for a while you drift there, your mind sifting through shards of memories and slivers of sound, casting them against the backs of your eyelids as you slowly slide into the darkness of dreams.

You wake up to a gasping stillness — the silence pressing in on your eardrums like thumbs, the darkness around you so complete it’s almost a solid thing. You freeze, your breath hissing to a halt inside you. Then distantly, ever so distantly, you hear the sounds of battle — metal clashing against metal, the hard thud of boots against flesh. You shake your head and reach up to clap your hands over your ears and only then do your senses return to you, snapping back as if you’d been abruptly shunted back into your earthly body.

“Gum Gum — Pistol!”

“Seize her!”

You whip into movement, fast as a flash, dashing away, hoping against hope that it would draw your attackers far enough from your crewmates.

“No one… ever… leaves us…”

The voice is serpentine and susurrus, sinking into your skin like sharpened teeth, but before it can reach you, it’s cut short by a bright flash of silver.

You gasp, whirling around, reaching for the nearest pulse, instinct taking over as you sink your fingers into muscle and flesh. The rush of blood thrumming beneath your fingertips comes too easy, even as a familiar scent accosts you. A moment later, your hands are being pinned above you, and thick, rough bark is digging into your wrists as Zoro stands before you, a sword in one hand, the other holding you still.

His eyes are a little wild and a lot worried. There’s a ring of red rawness around his neck, thin trickles of blood trailing along his jugular, disappearing into the wide scoop neck of his shirt.

“Hey, look at me.”

You nearly whimper, struggling against him, fear still coursing through you like a drug but Zoro is strong enough to keep you held. Behind him, you can see the rest of the crew fending off several shadowy figures, Usopp waving a torch, screaming at the top of his lungs, Luffy whooping as he whacks another figure with his fist.

“Z-Zoro?”

“Yeah, it’s me — eyes up here.”

You swallow in a breath, and then another, and you feel the bright thrum of urgency leave you as your body slowly falls slack. And then you’re slipping, and he’s looping an arm around you to keep you upright.

“Th-they’re here — they —”

“They’re gone — we got rid of them — hey.”

Zoro takes you by the shoulders and gives you a gentle shake. Finally, your eyes catch on his and your gaze holds. You see yourself reflected in them, stark and terrified, but alive — somehow alive.

“They’re gone,” he says, his voice soft and low by your ear, his arm still wrapped around your middle. Shivers wrack your body as you bury your face in his shoulder. He smells of steel and skin and the metallic tang of blood. It’s then that you remember — the wounds on the sides of his neck. The marks in the shape of your hands —

You jerk back and feel a sticky wetness against your cheek.

“Zoro, I hurt you!”

At this, he scoffs, pulling back far enough to flash you a look.

“This is nothing. C’mon.”

He offers you a hand, and after a second you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Wordlessly, he presses his palm to the small of your back, his arm extended to keep you steady as you both make your way back towards camp.

“Phew! That was a workout!” Luffy is saying just as you both reach the outskirts of the now-darkened bonfire. Sanji is pulling out a cigarette, striking a match, and first lighting the end before tossing it into the remains of the firewood, fanning it up into a slow flame.

Nami and Usopp both look a bit shaken, but none worse for the wear.

They all pivot to look at you.

You go still against Zoro’s side, uncertainty flooding through you. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s fingers as they press into the bend of your waist, solid and steady.

Then, Usopp coughs, “C’mon y’all — the Shadows that Live? Psh! More like — the Shadows that Fled, am I right? Yeah? Didya see the way I sent ‘em runnin’ with my brand new fire-powered explosion rounds?”

Nami chuckles and Sanji follows suit, shaking his head and letting out a thin wisp of smoke. Luffy’s grins at you, pumping a fist in the air, clapping his right shoulder.

“See? Told you we’d have your back! We are your crew, after all!”

Weakness seeps into your limbs as you nod, hot pin-pricks of tears itching at your lower lashes. You lower your head and rub at your eyes before looking back up again with a smile. Sanji grimaces as he looks over Zoro.

“Got something on your neck, mate.”

Zoro glares but you glance over and feel your stomach twist with guilt.

“Sorry… I can clean that up for you. They’re not deep but they do need to be bandaged up.”

Zoro wipes down his sword before sheathing it and motioning towards the ship. Behind you, you can hear Nami yawning and saying something about catching up on some more sleep and Sanji reassuring her about having the last watch anyway.

The kitchen is still dark, but the dusty dawn sweeps against the far horizon and neither of you bother to turn the lights on. You carefully set the first aid kit on the kitchen counter and collect the supplies as Zoro leans back against the edge and folds his arms. You work in near silence, reaching up to first wipe the thin threads of drying blood before tending to the tiny, crescent-shaped puncture wounds.

You press an alcohol-soaked cotton ball against one of them and feel Zoro wince.

“Sorry.”

“I’m fine.”

You bite your lips, “If this had been a bit deeper or a few inches over —”

“But it wasn’t. So it’s fine.”

You don’t look up at him but you can feel his eyes on you. Your movements are fluid and sure; you’d clearly done this before.

“Hey, look at me.”

You freeze, eyes slowly gliding up the planes and divots of his neck, slipping up the line of his jaw, so sharp it might’ve been turned on a diamond cutter’s lathe. Your breath hitches as you finally meet his eyes, and there’s a dark, knowing glint behind them that makes your stomach flip.

“I’m fine.”

And for the second time in a handful of hours, you’re caught by the realization of your closeness — only a breath of space between you. There’s a crimp at the corner of his mouth that looks dangerously like a smile and then you’re tipping forward, a thumb reaching up to trace the line of his bottom lip once —

The movement acts like a trigger, and suddenly, he is leaning in and the breath of space disappears.

For all your life of stillness, you thought you’d learned to appreciate the depths and widths of movement. But nothing could’ve prepared you for this — for the push and pull of lips on lips, for the force and friction of skin against skin. For the gasp and hiss, for the breath and kiss.

For the feeling of his large palm as it settles along the swallow’s-nest bend of your neck, the way his thumb runs along your jaw like tracing the guard of his beloved sword, tilting your mouth towards him. For the way your heart might flutter like a tiny, caged bird, or the way you might feel his heart thumping like a fist from his chest to yours.

For the way his voice rolls over your name like a ship at sea; for the way it would shake your body from your bones and leave you more liquid than solid in his arms. For how you never used to think your story would be a love story, but then you realize that every story is a love story if caught in the right moment, in the right light.

And here, breaking apart from Zoro, with a thick, stolen streak of lemon-yellow sunlight leaking in from the kitchen window — that’s exactly what it feels like.

“Oh,” is all you have the strength to say.

Zoro, in all his solid brilliance and quiet audacity, laughs.

You taste the smile on your own lips before you realize you’re smiling. But when you try to bury your face in his neck, he winces slightly as you brush his still-fresh wounds.

“Crap, I forgot about these.”

Zoro chuckles as you hurry to press a few small bandages to the wounds.

“It’s okay. So did I.”

You finish dressing his wounds in silence, though this silence is markedly different from every other silence that had ever existed between you. There’s ease and tension, both, and when you’re finally finished, Zoro takes both your hands in his.

“So…” you say, unsure suddenly of where to look.

Zoro’s laugh is just as soft, just as uncertain.

“So.”

You try to look out the window, but by now, the dawning sun is so bright that it temporarily blinds you and you jerk back. Zoro smiles, reaching up to run his thumbs along your closed eyelids before dropping them to hook around your wrists again.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?” he asks, quiet as always.

You purse your lips and let your lashes flutter open. You find him watching you. Heat crests up your shoulders and into your cheeks, and suddenly, the exhaustion of the night before saps at your limbs. You sigh.

“Right now? Not really.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, sounding as relieved as you feel.

You bite your lips and cast your gaze shyly across his face, your bird-wing heartbeat still flapping in your chest. You fight the urge to go still, to reach for that shield that has always protected you before. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s thumbs tracing circles along the insides of your wrists.

“Can I ask for something else, though?”

“What is it?”

You reach up a finger, nudging one of his golden earrings. You don’t miss the way he shivers, or the way his breath quickens in his chest.

“Kiss me again.”

Zoro grins, tugging you towards him, leaning into the curve of your palm as he does.

And does.

And does again.

reqs are: temporarily closed

but feedback is much loved and appreciated!!!

[ervotica]

maybe mean!rafe x crybaby!reader? he gets mad at her for not sitting down on the couch with him and he yells at her, dragging her by her wrist and forcing her to sit with him… only if you’re okay with it(I’ve never requested anything before)

warnings; mean!rafe, dom/sub undertones, brat taming, crybaby!reader, barry is a shit stirrer but we love him for it <3

a/n; thanks for the request, angel! hope you enjoy🥰 (side note; may or may not be thinking abt being rafe & barry’s shared gf😍 they’re just too hot together jfc)

You get agitated in a sort of frenzied way that has always driven Rafe insane; you start to twitch, tapping heel clad feet and cracking knuckles until the sound of it has his jaw ticking in vexation.

You're rocking back and forth on your heels, red solo cup clutched between clammy palms; you can see Rafe in your peripheral vision, never letting him too far out of your line of sight in fear of being left to fend for yourself at one of these parties packed with drug-addled teenagers.

The smell of cheap, stale beer and sweat pervades your senses and you cringe, the blaring music paired with the way Rafe is staring you down- cerulean eyes piercing straight through you- forcing your brain into overdrive.

"Would you quit it and come sit down already?" Rafe snaps, thick digits outstretched as an offering for you to take; your lip spills into a pout, tightness pulling at every inch of your skin as the tension pools and gathers between your crumpled brows.

"I don't wanna," you whine, dragging out every syllable plaintively until he's standing, storming towards you with a thunderous expression carved into his features that you're not often on the receiving end of.

"I told you to fucking sit down! What the fuck is wrong with you, huh? Can't even do as you're told, can you?"

You feel the tears tickling at your waterline the second he raises his voice, your gaze snapping up to him as the first wave spills over your wide eyes.

"For God's sake, kid. Come sit down," he grouses. His tone softens when your expression crumples and he hooks a thick bicep around your neck, drawing you into the warm expanse of his chest. You're pulled along in short, shuffling steps until your bum hits the leather couch and Rafe's bruising grip digs into your calves to splay them haphazardly across his lap.

"You're mean," you sniff, backs of your fingers smearing across your teary eyes until they're caked in black. He pinches your thigh before delivering a firm swat to the afflicted area, his arms a vice around your squirming body as you try to free yourself.

“I told you to sit down and be fuckin’ quiet. Take a nap or something, cranky pants.” He rolls his eyes, fingers spreading across your jaw to settle your head in the hollow of his shoulder.

You grumble something indecipherable before he feels you go slack on top of him, lashes fluttering as you fight the fog of fatigue that invades every inch of your skull. He smears a kiss along the curve of your forehead.

“Y’alright, Princess?” Barry queries, only amused by Rafe’s sudden glaring of daggers at the shorter man. “Country club bein’ mean, huh?”

“She’s fine,” Rafe snips as you stir and start to whine once again. “Just bein’ a brat. Needs a rest ‘s all.”

“Rafe.”

“I swear to fuckin’ God, kid. You be quiet or I will spank you raw in front of all these people.”

You sigh and curl up and into his embrace, exhaustion settling heavy in your bones once he cages you into his chest with a firm squeeze.

“Good girl.”