#tried a new lining pen too!! i like it :]

[yellowvixen]

they're so t4t and bi4bi. to me

[lucalicatteart]

A character reference sheet sort of thing for the main character of the Poll Adventures, drawn more in my usual style (taking a picture of messy pencil sketches then coloring it digitally lol) rather than the cutesy ms paint style of the daily poll images .. there he is.. the adventure boy..

[murdrdocs]

venus fly

description. the pollen that sprayed in LUKE CASTELLAN's face earlier this morning has some really weird effects. not that he's complaining.

a continuation of this drabble

includes. sex pollen SUGGESTIVE CONTENT 18+, accidental drugging, loser!luke, best friend!reader, demeter!reader, implied oral (f and m receiving), slightly perv!luke, aftercare almost nonexistent

wc: 4.5k+

a/n: the long awaited sex pollen fic. title from venus fly by grimes. no explicit smut ahead. artwork credit unknown.

Your shirt is fitting you really well. 

Your lips are moving, you’re saying something to Luke, he assumes it’s likely at least a little bit important, but he can only focus on how well your shirt is fitting. 

Tight enough over your bust—Luke figures you’re wearing a sports bra for capture the flag today since he sees no bra lines, but the bra creates a nice shape for your tits, so he doesn’t need the lines to entertain him. 

“Did you get a new shirt?”

You stop whatever you were saying to look down at your chest. You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest as you fix Luke with a look of disappointment. 

“Wha–? It’s an older one. All of my others were dirty.” Your bosom is covered, but Luke is still staring. It’s like he cannot peel his eyes away. Though, he hasn’t tried. At least, not until you scold him. 

“Will you stop ogling me while I’m trying to talk to you?” 

His reply is earnest. “Wait, shit, yeah. ‘m sorry I don't know what's going on…” 

You stare at him, your eyebrows furrowed and your lips parted. Luke can’t help but fix his eyes there next. You’re wearing chapstick, or maybe lip gloss. Something that’s spreaded over your lips and creates a nice sheen that makes him want to lick it off like icing on a treat. 

“It’s okay …” Your words aren’t that convincing but you drop your arms and start speaking again. This time, Luke takes in at least a dozen words. 

Really, he should have known what was wrong with him. The same way he should have known that eventually, his insistent nosiness would come back to bite him in the rear. 

You’d always warned him of such, telling him that “it’s charming until it’s not”, when you would boot him out of the greenhouse. (Truthfully, Luke had codependency issues but if he never really admitted it to himself, then he wouldn’t have to admit it to you, either.)

You were spending more time in the greenhouse lately. Which has never been a problem for Luke. But your newest project, something completely unknown to Luke as it was apparently a Demeter kid only project, was taking away his time with you. You could barely spare a half hour to go by the lake. You traded chores with one of your siblings for more time in the greenhouse, leaving Luke to work with someone not nearly as entertaining as you. 

The only time he got to really see you was early in the morning and late at night. And if he was losing his time to something else—or, gods forbid, someone else—he wanted to know what it was. 

So right when you were leaving the greenhouse early that morning, Luke snuck in after you. He searched around, trying to find evidence of you anywhere, and when he did find it, he found his demise there, too.

Sitting next to your favorite pen was a potted plant. It resembled a venus fly trap, but immensely bigger. There were a cluster of them, some with large flowers growing out of the opened mouths. Luke stupidly had the urge to provoke the plant, driven by the desire to see them in action. 

He took your favorite pen, and gently stuck it inside of the mouth. 

When a puff of yellow smoke hit him square in the face, he hadn’t thought much of it. 

When he stumbled out of the greenhouse with a fog in his head and dizziness, he thought it to be a single side effect. 

When he started to feel warmer than usual, he thought it to be an effect of the insistent summer heat. 

It’s not until he’s waking up on the ground that he really begins to worry. 

His eyes open and he is immediately greeted with the sun attempting to blind him. He squints and raises a hand over his face, shielding both the sun and whoever stands over him. 

When they speak, he doesn’t need his eyes to tell who he is joined by. 

“Jesus, Castellan, if you didn’t scare the shit outta me just now I would be bragging about beating you.” 

Luke groans and rolls onto his side. He’s still wearing his battle armor over his clothes and he suddenly feels uncomfortable, like everything has been made wrong or maybe like he has outgrown them. His camp shirt is too tight against his body, pressing the sweat back into his skin and not allowing for any breathing room. His shorts feel awkward in the crotch, as do his briefs. And his shoes are suffocating his feet. 

There is nothing he wants more in this moment than to peel the armor and clothes off of his body and run down to the water. But he doesn’t know if the game has ended yet, nor does he know how long he has been out. 

There are many unanswered questions he has, but the first one he starts with is, “Why are you here?” 

He hears you scoff and knows you have rolled your eyes. 

“We were sparring and you just passed out. I wasn’t just going to leave you here.” 

He finally looks at you. His eyesight has readjusted to the light from the star above, so it stings just a bit less when he peers one eye open. 

You add on, “I didn’t know if you had spontaneously died or something! And now that I know you’re fine…” You bend down and grab your helmet, situating it back on your head and standing at attention over Luke. 

He needs to stand. The last thing he remembers is fighting you and he's never lost a fight to you. In his mind, he hasn’t surrendered, and you haven’t defeated him, so he needs to stand. 

He tries to, he really does, but his knees get weak and as soon as he’s up, his head spins and he’s right back down. 

You swear just before your knees are hitting the earth and you’re kneeling beside him. 

Luke can feel you pressing the back of your hand against his forehead, he can hear you asking him a few questions, he can see your wide eyes staring into his heavy ones, but he can’t respond. He can’t do anything but worry about the bile rising in his throat, or focus on the shining water just behind you. 

He doesn’t realize that he has begun moving until the bottom of his pants feel heavy with the weight of water. 

When he’s in to his thighs, he collapses and lets the ripples wash over his body. 

You don’t follow him until after him for a few moments, and when you do, you stand still at the shoreline. You let Luke soak the heat and sweat off of his skin as best as the circumstances allow, and you only speak to him once he’s standing right in front of you in soaked clothes and wet armor. 

“What’d you take?” 

At first, he’s not playing dumb. It just takes a moment for your words to plant in his mind. Then he plays dumb. 

“Take? I don’t know what you mean.”

You don’t entertain his ditziness and instead begin making your case. 

“You’re clearly on something, Luke. You’re sweating even though it’s as cool as it usually is. Your pupils are wide and your eyes go from restless to barely open. You keep fidgeting and every few minutes you twitch. And you’re standing here, talking to me, instead of helping the red team secure another win.” 

Luke hadn’t noticed most of his symptoms. It’s not like he can notice anything other than the thoughts in his mind, especially when they give him images of your tits bouncing in his face and audible hallucinations of what you would sound like moaning his name. 

He decides then and there that capture the flag doesn’t matter. Not when he has what he wants, the true glory, right in front of him. 

He heard you, he processed your words, but the sight of your lips distracts him once more and prevents him from instantly responding. He stares instead, watching your mouth through lazy blinks. 

He doesn’t even consider responding until you tut. 

“If you don’t want to tell me, then that’s fine. I’ll go get Maria L to take care of you then.” 

Luke's eyes widen. Maria L is an excellent healer but she also has a pestering crush on Luke, one that encourages her to touch Luke with grazes that border on harassment and lack any professionalism. 

“No! Not her.” Luke would feel bad about his reaction to the girls name if he didn’t have such a one track mind. 

Your eyebrows raise to tell him to continue. He does so begrudgingly. 

He picks at his fingernails and his cuticles until dead skin peels back to reveal blood. But the sting on his thumb doesn’t compare to the dull pain residing in his groin. 

He knows that admitting the truth to you would open the possibility of criticism. His current … illness aside, you would never let him live down the day his nosiness actually reaped consequences. He briefly considers accepting defeat, walking away with his tail tucked between his legs, and taking control of the growing boner on his own. 

He might be generally inexperienced in these situations, but even he knows that his own fist wouldn’t compare to even the slightest bit of attention from you. 

He opens his mouth. “I went in the greenhouse.” 

Your eyes widen as if Luke had confessed to committing a cardinal sin, and it’s then that Luke begins to really worry about himself.

“Did you …?” You don’t even have to finish your sentence before he nods. “Luke! You fucking-“

Not really in the mood for your chastising, Luke holds one hand up.  He is able to silence you for only a second before you’re slapping his hand away. You’re yelling at him, both for trying to rudely shut you up, and for doing the one thing you told him not to do. 

He sits and listens, waiting not-so-patiently for you to tire yourself out. He thought that point would come sooner than it does, but he’s sure that at least two minutes have passed and you’re showing no signs of stopping. 

He rolls his eyes, he furrows his eyebrows, and he tries to discreetly adjust the boner in his cargos, but according to you, Luke has never been discreet a day in his life. He has never believed in your so-called ability to see right through him until your eyes pointedly drift to his crotch with his hand still attached to it. 

Your insistent rambling ends unfinished. You blink, you don’t say anything. And then:

“Oh.”

At this point, he doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. You fill the silence for him. 

“Oh, Luke. I told you not to go in there because …”

His eyebrows lift. “Because what?” 

You take a breath. “The plant, the Venus Fly, the pollen is an aphrodisiac.”

Luke knows what an aphrodisiac is, he isn’t dumb, but he still asks for clarification. And when you explain, he asks you to dumb it down. Even then, he blinks at you. Because you were right. His nosiness caused this. 

He’s considering pitying himself whenever you suggest the one proposed solution, the only solution the Demeter and Apollo kids have been workshopping together ever since acquiring the plant from another kid's quest. 

And when your solution comes, Luke determines that there is no way he could pity himself whenever he is in the position he’s been dreaming of for literal years.

He might not have envisioned this particular scenario, as his fantasies usually entailed the two of you alone in a bed not at Camp Half-Blood. But something about this makes him enjoy it more. Out in nature, in the open with many possibilities of being caught surrounding you both. His lips on yours, his lips surrounding yours, as he kisses you messily. 

There is something perverse about the idea of getting to fuck you out in the open, gods willing. He didn’t think it was something he would be into, but it’s all he can think about when he’s rutting against you. 

He breathes you in. “I’ve …” he takes a moment, rubbing his stiff cock against your crotch once more. He groans as he speaks. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long.” 

You hum, your hands fisting the part of the back of Luke’s shirt that isn’t covered by his armor. 

“Luke,” you start and your voice is already full of hesitance. Luke isn’t sure he wants to hear what you have to say, but he knows it would be wrong not to. He busies himself with kissing your neck and under your jaw. 

“It’s the pollen talking,” you tell him. “You’re not yourself. You’re basica-“ He bites down onto where he can feel your pulse thrumming under your skin. You gasp, loud and broken, before continuing. “You’re basically drugged.” 

Somewhere deep down Luke knows that there’s logic in your statement, there usually is logic in your statements, besides during those times where you would say whatever came to your mind in the late hours of the night. But he doesn’t care, logic be damned. 

He knows that he’s felt this way—or at least in the range of this way—for a while now. The pollen has just given him the confidence to act on his desires. 

While the pollen has given him confidence, it hasn’t given him experience. 

He sloppily kisses along your neck and jaw, not necessarily knowing what he’s doing but he knows he’s expected to suck at one point, so he does. He just wants to please. 

You don’t react much to his lips on your skin, so he lifts a hand and slides it under your shirt and armor. The chest piece doesn’t allow for much maneuvering and Luke frowns against your skin before he separates completely to pull the armor off himself. 

He knows the clasps on the metal as well as he knows clasps on his favorite pair of pants. Yet his hands fumble. Excitement and the effects of the pollen, he reasons. But his face becomes warm from something other than the two, something he would rather not fully acknowledge. Especially not when he’s about to get his dick wet in the warmth of the one person he’s wanted since he was old enough to actually understand sex. 

You ask Luke if he wants your help with your usual teasing tone, but Luke doesn’t take kindly to it. As soon as he has the chest piece off, he has your shirt following it, and then his lips are back on yours. 

If even possible, this kiss is heavier. Firmer. Meaner. 

He still doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he calls onto the one other time he’d made out with someone. He remembers how he had been instructed to use his tongue and lick into his partner's mouth (a boy from the Ares cabin who stopped coming to camp a year ago). He had been kind to Luke when he didn’t know what he was doing, but now Luke feels like he needs to prove himself. He wants to prove himself. He wants to impress you. 

What results is a clash of teeth and tongue. It’s messy, sloppy, and slobbery. 

Luke likes it that way. 

You pull away first. 

Not much has been done, but you look a mess. Your lips are coated in saliva, probably yours and Luke’s, and pride floods his chest. You look flushed, too, and Luke sincerely hopes he’ll be able to amplify the emotion on your face soon thereafter. 

“Slow down. Luke.” Your words are soft, gentle, and kind. Just like you. Just like your hands that card through his still-wet hair. 

He winces, and not from the way your fingers snag on a cluster of curls. Wrongly assuming the cause of his sound, you apologize and smooth the patch of hair down. Your hands instead slide down Luke’s shoulders and he tries not to frown at the change. 

“Sorry,” he admits. He gnaws on his bottom lip, already missing the feeling of yours, and finds himself continuing. “I haven’t really made out with anyone since …”

You nod, lips pulling up in the corners. “Theo?” Luke nods. “I know. We tell each other everything, remember?”

Not everything. 

No one else is privy to the dreams Luke has about you. He has never told you, or anyone else, about all of the times he would fist his cock and chant your name in the showers late at night. In fact, when you would ask what took him so long, he would make up a lie about taking advantage of the hot water and solitude. While it was only a white lie, it was a lie nonetheless. 

The innocent and naive look on your face as you accepted his lie by omission only made Luke’s cock harder. 

You’re staring up at him now with a look different enough, but his reaction is the same.  Your eyes hold interest, intrigue, a little bit of mischief, perhaps. You look sure of yourself, like you’ve done this and in this capacity multiple times before. But Luke knows about your experience, nearly the exact same as his save for a few details he wishes to erase. 

When you had dished on your sexual history, Luke felt jealousy stirring deep in his stomach. He had been with other people, a guy and a girl, but that was in hopes of getting his mind off of you. Meanwhile, you had been with other people out of personal interest and not self-deluded necessity. 

Either way, your experience is almost the same as Luke’s, and knowing so makes it easier for him to take the lead. 

He kisses you again but he tries to go slower. Everything in him screams for him to speed up, to take you how he pleased, but he breathes and pushes the thoughts aside. 

Taking it slow pays off when you work the armor off of Luke’s torso (without much difficulty at all), and then slide your hands under his orange shirt to rest your palms against his abs. The feeling of your skin against his is striking, even though the touch isn’t much at all. Pathetically, Luke is affected by the meaning more than the physicality. 

“What do you feel now?” You ask him after pulling away from his lips. 

Luke’s immediate reflex is to say “horny”. 

You roll your eyes and absentmindedly scratch your nails against his abs. When he keens, he figures he’s hornier than even he thought. 

“I mean other than that. Your skin is warm so I’m assuming you’re still nearing a fever, at least. Are you lightheaded? Nauseous? Anything?”

Luke feels like he’s been slapped in the face. You were asking about his symptoms like a healer. Like an Apollo kid. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were only touching him to gauge his temperature. Were you only doing this—kissing him—to keep his fever warded off? Did you even want this? 

Rationally, he knows that you would do anything to help him. You’re his best friend, after all. But he wants you to want this, otherwise it would mean nothing.  Otherwise, he wouldn’t even begin to hold a torch to your previous partners. He would be the one you laid with out of moral obligation and not interest. 

He hadn’t been feeling nauseous before, but his throat starts to construct as if preparing to trigger his gag reflex. 

He hasn’t responded and you’re looking at him inquisitively. 

“Nauseous,” he starts. “Hot. Horny. Are you only doing this to keep me from dying?” The question messily tumbles out without him noticing. 

You run your tongue over your teeth. “Yes. But there’s also personal benefits involved.” 

Usually, Luke could decipher your maze-like answers. But he’s so hot and worked up and lacking an immense amount of patience. 

“So you want to fuck me?” 

Luke doesn’t continue his work until you respond. 

“Yes, Luke. I want to fuck you.” 

He has your shirt over your head in less than a minute. The button on your shorts is undone 30 seconds after that. He has completely forgotten about your plea to go slower, but even if he did remember he wouldn’t be able to comply. 

He needs to feel you. All of you. Or else he might collapse then and there. 

His hands run over your shoulders and torso gratefully, only appearing as the opposite whenever he runs into your bra (a sports bra, as he had assumed). As soon as he has the straps pulled down, he latches his lips onto the newly revealed skin. 

Distantly, Luke thinks he would have liked to have been able to lay you back. He wants to see you laid out before him while you’re completely at his mercy. Luckily, he has learned to adapt. He has been dealt unfavorable cards in his life, and turned them into something worthy. He plans to do the same here and now. 

As he sinks to his knees, he pulls your shorts down with him. You don’t have to be told to step out of them, but as soon as you do, you’re looking down at Luke with your eyebrows raised. 

“Are you sure? I haven’t showered since yesterday and I’m really sweaty.” 

Luke doesn’t pay any mind to your words. As you’re speaking, he already has his fingers forced under the elastic fabric of your panties. 

“I’m sure.” 

He pulls the fabric down. 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I want to.” 

He pulls your leg over his shoulder, bringing your cunt straight to his face. 

He has never gotten this far with someone before, he has never even seen examples of what to do in this position. He could back out. He could set your leg back down and only get his dick wet. But you smell so good, and you’re practically glistening in the sun, and you’re staring down at him expectantly so Luke slowly leans forward, sticks his tongue out, and gets to work. 

‎

‎

By the time Luke feels even a bit satiated, the sun has started to descend to its destination below the horizon, creating a soft blue hue over the sky. 

You’re panting under him, your back and arms painted with dirt, just a bit smudged on your cheek and a few flecks of it strewn throughout your hair. Your stomach rises and falls with your breaths, drawing Luke’s attention to the fresh cum laying there. There’s some dried cum on your back, and just the smallest smudge at the corner of your lips. Luke doesn’t think much before he licks his thumb and wipes away the white crust from your mouth. 

He sits back on his haunches and sighs with his head tilted to the sky. His hands rest on his thighs with an exorbitant amount of self control, as he desperately wishes to wrap his fingers around his semi-erect cock and jerk himself to another orgasm. 

He thinks that most of the pollen has left his system by now, and at this point the desire he feels is natural. It’s the same desire he has felt for you for a while now, only amplified by the memory of what the real thing was like with you. It’s addicting. Luke truly cannot get enough, even though he has been out here with you for hours. Somewhere along the way, one of the teams won capture the flag. Luke wasn’t sure which one, but the triumphant yells in the distance alerted him of a victory. Somewhere between his third orgasm and your fourth, the conch for lunch blew off into the distance, but Luke had absolutely no concern for satisfying his physical hunger. He was too focused on the sight in front of him. 

When he brings his vision back down, you’re sitting with your legs pulled in your chest and your arms wrapped around your calves. 

“We should clean up and go have dinner,” you tell him, your voice weak and hoarse. 

Fear strikes Luke still. You’re avoiding his eyes, staring down at the dirt, and speaking in a soft voice. 

He shuffles closer to you, reaches out to touch you, and then he reconsiders. You take a deep breath, and Luke rests his hand on your elbow. 

“Okay. Are you okay? I know that was a lot.”

You look at him and Luke feels a bit better, because while your eyes are a bit distant, you don’t look upset. 

“I’ll be okay. ‘m just tired. But what about you, are you fine?” 

There is still that nagging in the back of his head, telling him to take you one more time, but his logical part knows that you wouldn’t be able to handle it. He knows that you’ve had enough. Which means he, too, has had enough. 

“I’m good.” He leans forward and presses a kiss into your hairline. He stands, pulls his boxers onto his lower half, and offers you his hand. “C’mon.” 

You let Luke help you redress and hold his hand as he leads you back to camp the back way. You two come out of the forest right by the showers, where Luke tells you to wait while he does his best to sneakily run back to the cabins. He grabs himself a change of clothes, then sneaks into the Demeter cabin where he does the same for you. 

He knows that he has just seen all of your intimate parts for hours on end, but holding your panties in his hand makes his ears redden. Blood threatens to rush down to his crotch but he fills his head with the most undesirable images until he reaches you. 

Two showers are started, you and Luke stand back to back, and Luke enters his shower. 

When the bathroom is covered in steam and you’ve both used the remnants of the hot water, you and Luke redress and reach the dining pavilion just in time for dinner. 

He falls into the routine of a caring counselor easily. He answers insistent questions about his previous whereabouts with a passing “I was sick” that earns just enough sympathy and stops the questions all together. A few times he looks across the way to see you already looking at him. Instead of dropping his eyes or teasing you with the slyest middle finger he could muster, he smiles at you just slyly enough to not raise suspicion. 

When offerings have been given, and Luke feels full in multiple ways, he finds you at the bonfire and sits with his leg flushed to yours. 

He had just begun to think that all of the pollen was out until you rested your hand on his knee and he felt a jump in his stomach. 

Goddamn it. 

[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!!!

[navybrat817]

The Dad Diaries: Welcome Home

Pairing: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky reflects on the first night with his son home and puts his thoughts to paper.

Word Count: Over 1.2k

Warnings: Fluff, reflecting, first time dad, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a dad, okay?).

A/N: Welcome to The Dad Diaries! This AU will focus on Bucky and his relationship with his son (and you!) ❤️ Thanks to the beautiful @whisperlullaby for giving this intro a look and assuring me it wasn't garbage, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky stared intently at the open blank journal that sat in the middle of his office desk. He had picked up the pen a few minutes ago, but hadn’t written a single word. Why did he feel stuck? Better yet, what was he thinking by doing this? Reading often came easy to him, but writing? That was something else entirely.

It was also something he wanted to do.

He ran a hand over his face with a sigh and wondered if he should call it a night, crawl into bed with you, and try tomorrow. No, he didn’t want to push it off before he even began. Glancing at the monitor, he heard your voice in his head, a memory of something you told him in the early stages of dating:

The best writing comes from the heart. Write what you and your heart love because no one knows that story better than you.

Bucky had plenty of stories to tell. How he became a hero and a good man after years of pain and darkness. Or how he fell in love with you and became your husband.

And his newest adventure of becoming a father.

He wasn’t sure how to be a dad yet, but he knew he loved his son. That was more than enough to start. And with a smile tugging at his lips, he put the pen to paper.

Hey, Nugget,

My name is James Buchanan Barnes. Most people call me Bucky. Your mom calls me her husband and I’m the luckiest man in the world for that, especially since she gave me the greatest gift I could ever ask for: you.

Your name is James, too. Your mom doesn't know if we’ll call you Jamie or JJ, but I have a feeling you'll hear a bit of both. And one day, I’ll get to hear you call me Dad. Or Dada or Daddy or Papa.

Whatever makes you happy.

He paused in his writing when he thought he heard something on the monitor. His eyes flickered to the screen again and he breathed a little easier when he saw that his baby was still sleeping soundly in the middle of the crib. It wouldn’t stop him from checking on him later, just to be on the safe side.

I’m so glad you’re home. In fact, tonight is your first night in the nursery. I hope you like it here. To quote Ralph Waldo Emerson: “A house is made with walls and beams: a home is built with love and dreams.”

Yeah, your old man likes to read. Maybe you will, too. I even have an original copy of The Hobbit and would love to give it to you when you're older.

Books lined the far wall of Bucky’s office, many of them worn from the amount of times he read them. He made sure Jamie’s room had a reading nook, too. It was one of the only things he asked for when the two of you designed the nursery.

I hope you get enough sleep tonight. Your mom, too. You both did great at the hospital and deserve all the rest you can get.

Would you believe me if I said I was a nervous wreck when I brought your mom in, but tried not to let it show? People call me strong, but I don’t think I ever witnessed true strength until I saw how steady of a rock she was. She blew me away, which didn't surprise me. She amazes me every day.

Hearing your first cry stopped my heart and brought tears of joy to my eyes. After nine months of waiting and talking to your mom’s stomach, you were finally here. And seeing her hold you made me fall in love all over again.

Sorry if that sounds sappy, but it’s true. She looked right at me with happy tears in her eyes and said, “Bucky, look! Look at what we made! It's our little Nugget!” and my heart swelled. She insisted on calling you that and it rubbed off on me. Believe me when I say that you are the luckiest baby in the world to have the mother that you do.

He stopped writing again to glance at his wedding band, smiling all over again. He thought your love filled his heart before, but it overflowed now. It warmed him like nothing else ever could.

You’re probably wondering why I’m writing this since a lot of time will pass by the time you read this. Sometimes I may write to remember things I’m afraid I’ll forget. Other days I’ll write to reflect and get the words out when my mind is too loud. But my hope is that this will be a gift to you.

A bond for the two of us.

As you grow, I’ll fill the pages with the memories of you and our family. I’ll tell you about my past and how it shaped me into the man I am today. How your mom and I met and how I somehow convinced her to fall in love with me. And I’ll be sure to tell you about the day she told me we were going to have you and how that news changed my life for the better.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before he continued.

I also plan to fill this with your milestones. Like your first smile. Is it selfish if I hope to see it first? If not me, your mom. She’d love that. Your first step. Being selfish again, but I hope it’s me you walk toward so I can pick you up and tell you how proud I am. And your first word. I hope it’s Mama.

Though I won’t object if you say Dada.

Bucky chuckled as he imagined the look of betrayal on your beautiful face if your son said “Dada” first instead of “Mama”.

I’m sure some days I’ll have more to say than others. If I’m lucky, I can pass on life lessons and words of wisdom. Some days though I may not say the right thing and I know I’ll stumble along the way as I figure out how to be the best dad to you. I say “best” and not “perfect” because perfection doesn’t exist. Except for you and your mom.

The beauty of it is that I don’t have to go it alone. I’ll have your mom by my side to help guide and protect you and to watch you flourish. And my hope is that you know as you look through the pages how much we love you.

Even on days I may not get it right, I’m your dad, you’re my son, and you’ll always have a home with me and a place in my heart.

I’ll write more when I can, Nugget. Until then, I love you.

Always,

Dad

Bucky set the pen down as he exhaled. It wasn't perfect, but it didn't have to be. It was a start. As long as he put his heart into his words, it would shine from the pages.

And he couldn't wait for all the adventures he’d have with his little Nugget.

I hope you lovelies are excited to take this journey with Bucky. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[rztaros]

: stains & complaints

synopsis. a night filled with laughter and messes. pairing. clarisse la rue x fem!r genre. fluff wc. 600+ now playing. infrunami by steve lacy . . . 💿 notes. 💬 lowercase intended + flirty clarisse

the two girls were sprawled on the cabin floor, sitting besides each other so closely together that their knees were touching, and clarisse could feel whenever y/n exhaled after holding her breath as she did her makeup.

"stop moving."

"i'm not!" clarisse whisper shouted, trying to avoid waking up her siblings. you'd toss the used makeup wipe to the side, bringing the eyeliner pen back up to clarisse's closed eye.

your hand would already start to cramp as you desperately tried to keep your movements steady. this had already been the fourth time in trying to mirror the simple design you had already drawn on clarisse's other eye, but her eyelid kept fluttering and forcing the pen's felt tip off its course—just like how it did now.

you moved back with an irritated huff to look at your girlfriend after messing up once again, but all frustration immediately disappeared and was replaced by laughter.

"what are you doing?" clarisse would just burst into laughter seeing the incredulous look on your face, causing you to laugh as well.

"i just want to look at my beautiful girlfriend, but you're taking too long!" clarisse would exclaim under her breath, pouting.

"well, i would've been done quicker if you just kept both of your eyes shut! you're makin' me mess up," and with a huff, clarisse finally shut both of her eyes, resting her hands over your thighs as she waited for you to finish. the touch reminded both of you how close you guys were to each other, causing your hearts to beat like crazy.

as you wiped off the messed up line, you'd be able to draw the second wing on successfully, allowing you to finally move on to the final step.

looking down at the pile of various makeup products scattered around you guys on the floor, you suddenly remembered something, "oh! i got a new lipstick that i got the other day, can i try it on you?” you'd ask eagerly as the corners of your mouth quirked up.

clarisse hastily nodded her head, leading to you jumping up to grab it from your bag. you'd rummaged through your bag, and once you dug out the lipstick, you'd turn around seeing clarisse staring up at you lovingly from the floor.

"what?" you'd ask with a shy chuckle.

"it's just… you look really pretty wearin' my clothes." you look down at the sweater clarisse insisted you'd wear. you would keep your head down, hiding your gentle smile and sit across from clarisse once more.

you would quickly leave a peck on clarisse's lips and swiftly began coating her lips with the muted pink-color lipstick before the other girl could question the sudden kiss.

"okay," you'd clap, scooting back to get a clearer view of clarisse's entire face, "i think i'm done!" you'd pass a small hand mirror to clarisse, letting the girl see the finished look.

clarisse gasps at her reflection. of course, she knew you were talented just by observing you do your own makeup, but seeing your skills showcased on her own face was just wow, and in other words, impressive. clarisse immediately tosses the mirror to the side and pulls you closer again to place multiple short kisses on your cheeks.

pulling back, clarisse laughs seeing the pink lip prints that she left on your cheeks. picking the mirror back up and turning it towards herself, you began laughing as well from both the feeling of clarisse's lips on your skin and the sight of the transferred lipstick on your own face.

remembering the late hour, the ares' daughter would quickly put her finger to her lip, shushing the both of you. but seeing the smeared lipstick around clarisse's lips only made you laugh harder, so you covered your mouth with your hands to prevent more laughter from escaping while more and more pink marks were left all over your face.

'cause i was blind to see

that you were right in front of me

[autistichalsin]

My incomplete list of circumstantial bits of evidence for werebear!Halsin

Note: I can see the case for both Halsin knowing AND not knowing that he's a werebear- I'm going to include both here.

The most glaring: Halsin can't control his wildshape. This is highly unusual for any Druid, let alone an Archdruid of his age and power. He not only can't control the transformation when experiencing strong emotions, but he can't entirely control his actions when scared or angry; he tells the player, after being rescued from the goblin pens, that he will be unable to not attack the goblins threatening them. This makes no sense for a wildshaped Druid, but makes plenty of sense for a terrified werebear. 1B. No other Druids in the entire game have the wildshape problems Halsin does. 1C. Halsin can control all his other wildshapes properly, and behaves much more like other Druids when using them.

Werebears who haven't learned to control themselves yet (such as if they don't know they are one, are recently turned, etc) often transform unexpectedly when threatened.

Halsin's bear wildshape is treated differently than any other; it's the only wildshape he can't control, and it has a separate mechanic to other wildshapes in-game, being activated not with other wildshapes, but on the screen for abilities that are an intrinsic part of the character's skills. Yes, this is probably because it's only Halsin who can do this, but circumstantially... it is interesting.

Werebears avoid biting to prevent spreading their lycanthrophy (unless they have negotiated with the person they are trying to turn). As far as I've seen (I DEFINITELY could be wrong, though, please let me know if I am), Halsin only ever uses his claws to attack- no biting attacks.

If you look at the sky during the romance scene with the player, the moon is shown very bright and prominent; it isn't 100% certain, but it looks like it could be full.

Halsin is VERY different from his normal personality in bear form, excluding the romance scene; if you use Speak With Animals when he's in the cage, he'll say things like "time for blood" as he prepares to attack the goblins. Werebears in bear form are noted for being irritable and quick to violence, though they attempt to mitigate the effects of these impulses through self-isolation so no one innocent is harmed. 6B. Halsin in normal form tries very hard to not get violent when possible, noting that "killing is never [his] first choice", yet when needs must, he won't hesitate to kill- the opposite of the bear.

If Halsin doesn't know he's a werebear (explaining him not telling you), it's worth noting that it IS possible for werebears who weren't born as such not to be aware, with any actions taken during the full moon tending to get written off as bad dreams. Halsin could just think he has a recurring nightmare about losing control of his bear form.

Halsin resonates wit bears a lot deeper than most other Druids do with their favorite animals. Kagha comes the closest with her love of snakes, but even she speaks more metaphorically, whereas Halsin will do it literally, such as a new, as-yet-unimplemented line where he says he hopes "an old bear" can help the player, making jokes about poking the bear, etc. in fact, he refers to himself as a bear more often than he refers to himself as an elf.

Halsin makes reference to honey mead being his favorite drink. Werebears have a special honey mead concoction they enjoy. This drink is highly intoxicating to non-were, which means it might be more intoxicating than other drinks to were too.

Halsin is shown having an alignment that leans far more towards good than neutral, whereas most of the Druids in this game have a neutral alignment. Werebears are one of two weres in DND lore that have a good alignment.

Werebears usually live solitary lives. Circle of the Moon Druids are noted as being very solitary as well, with it being possible to go weeks without seeing another Druid (though Archdruids of this Circle will of course be more involved). Halsin, before becoming Archdruid, is implied to have fit this, such as him making reference to having hibernated in bear wildshape.

However, werebears are still noted to have a strong sense of community, and they often act as guardian of a particular area. Like Halsin protecting his Grove, then protecting his commune in the end, even noting that his urge to roam has dwindled after finding the latter. In fact, werebears are noted to often be sedentary and prefer not to leave their homes; Halsin is restless and roaming until the epilogue, when all his traumas are resolved, at which point he settles and shows contentment at having gone from "a life of high adventure" to one of anything but. (He says this to the player if romanced, worrying that he took them from just that life, but he repeatedly says he is happy to have given up adventuring.)

It is noted that when werebears don't isolate, one of the more common choices for werebears is.... you guessed it. Becoming a Druid.

Werebears have the ability to call local bears to them. The Emerald Grove has three bears living there.

Werebears don't marry, but might have favorite mates they visit often. Depending on player choice, Halsin might end up a bit more committed than the latter, but still less than the former. Also, this ties in well with Halsin's stated philosophy on polyamory, with him specifically stating that a bear's coupling habits suit him more than another animal's, like, say, a wolf, would.

It is well-known by now that there used to be a Bard Origin named Helia, who would have been either a Halfling or a Gnome. Helia also would have been a werewolf. While it's not known for sure that she was cut specifically FOR Halsin to be made playable (it's doubtful, given how early Helia was cut), there are signs that parts of her story might have been given to Halsin. For example, if one looks in datamined dialogues, certain goblin camp scenes still say that it could be either Helia or Halsin's bear there. Such as this one for the goblin kids running off to warn the adults: "Panicked, the kids run to the room with the goblin warriors and call for help, because the bear / Helia has escaped. After that they disappear." (Not sure if they still run in the final game, but the PAD is still in the files.) Or for the goblin kids throwing rocks before the cutscene is triggered, "One of the goblin kids that is throwing rocks at Helia or the bear." I don't want to speculate too much about cut content, but this suggests that Halsin and Helia's stories may have intertwined somewhat, and that when Helia was cut, parts of her went to Halsin. This may be why Halsin's bear wildshape was written more like him being a were instead; in a meta sense, he "became" a lycanthrope when he inherited part of Helia's story.

Halsin is wide/tall, muscular, and has body hair (though not facial hair), to the point that people repeatedly comment on how unusual he is for an elf. Unusual for an elf, but not a werebear, who are noted for being, you guessed it, wide/tall, muscular, and hairy.

Werebears who are bitten instead of being born as such are almost always transformed by a more experienced werebear and then taken as a protege, to become a guardian of the forest, which would explain a LOT about Halsin if he chose this.

Halsin shows a lot of empathy and compassion for Astarion and the Dark Urge. While of course it could just be his genuinely kind nature, it could also be him relating it to his own experience as a werebear.

Lastly, there's this art from the collector's edition; my guess is that this art was made after they decided Halsin would be playable, but before Karlach had an official design (the IGN interview indicates that Karlach was only added earlier this year, leaving a wide window for this to happen). While this is, of course, subjective, the pose and juxtaposition of the bear to Halsin looks a lot like the sort of art used in werewolf movies. Sort of like how one of Halsin's point-and-click lines, "the power of the bear lies within me," sounds very were-like too. This one is more subjective than the others, but I still wanted to include it.

This is all circumstantial, I know, but i thought it might be interesting to get out there nonetheless!

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || You Want Something Trivial For Your Birthday

GN!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - Junee 2023

⤜MASTERLIST

A/N: I hope this is okay for you my love! I tried to get them as different as possible from one another @whyyougottadothatbro

CHAN:

It was safe to say that Chan was struggling with what to get you for your birthday. It wasn't like he didn't know you well enough but it was a matter of getting you something you really wanted and were going to use.

"What do you want for your birthday?" He suddenly asked when you were out to the mall together, you slowly looked up from the milkshake you had been nursing and smiled at him. The two of you had decided to do a little shopping this morning and Chan thought it would be the perfect time to scout out something you were eyeing up a lot...but much to his dismay you hadn't been eyeing up anything forcing him to ask you what it was you wanted for your birthday.

"I could use a new suitcase." You shrugged it off as though it was nothing but Chan's mind had stalled on that for a second. A suitcase? You could have anything in the world and you were asking for a suitcase? 

"A suitcase?" He questioned, still a little confused as to if you were sure that was something you wanted for your birthday?

"Yeah, I mean...I need a new one for when we go on holiday, and the wheels on mine are falling off so I could use a new one?" You stared at him as he blinked at you,

"You don't want something like a necklace? anklet? A new watch?" He suggested while frowning at you, in all his years of life he'd never had someone ask him for something practical like this. 

"Nah," You smirked and began to drink from your cup again leaving a very confused-looking Chan staring at you,

"That's it? Just a suitcase?" He narrowed his eyes at you as if he was trying to see if it was some kind of joke but the look on your face let him know just how serious you were about this all.

"Yeah, I don't need anything else when I have the best gift right in front of me." You winked laying your hand on his before a blush began to creep up onto his cheeks.

MINHO:

When you first told Minho what you wanted he'd laughed thinking that you weren't being serious about it but as you continued to look at him he realised you were 100% about it.

"Metal straws?" He questioned, you were already bringing your phone toward him and showing him the set of metal straws you'd seen last week. They were a set of rainbow straws and you'd wanted to get them when you were in the mall but you didn't have your card at the time.

"But just metal straws? You don't want anything else?" Concern dripped from his tone as he stared at you. Did you think he would only get you something so small? Minho wanted to spoil you with everything you could possibly dream of,

"Yeah, I don't need anything else. Plus, they're great for the environment, I'll be saving so many turtles." You smiled looking down at your phone and not noticing the look on Minhos face which was a mixture of sadness and concern,

"And they have a cute carry case so I can keep them in my bag for when we're out together," You giggled before turning to look at Minho,

"Minnie?" You frowned noticing how sad he looked about everything and you instantly put your phone down.

"You don't want anything else? L-Like...A bracelet? Earrings? Anything? A ring?" You could hear the overthinking dripping from him now and you whimpered,

"I don't want you to spend too much on me, it's just a birthday." You informed him as you carefully sat down on his lap and looked him in the eyes, his body physically relaxing as you held onto his face. 

"I would give you the world if you wanted it." He told you as you smiled running your fingers over his cheeks, 

"I have you, it's all I need." You promised before gently kissing him.

CHANGBIN:

"Are you sure they said pens?" Felix asked as he walked around the fifth stationary store that Changbin had dragged him into, his eyes scanning over the walls that lined the shop. All of them had been the same so far and he didn't understand why Changbin was having such a hard time finding some pens for you.

"That's what YN said they wanted. Pens. But they never said what kind...O-Or were from," He looked at the pack of pens in his hands before putting them back, deciding that they weren't good enough for you for your birthday.

"But pens? For a birthday?" Felix didn't sound so convinced by it, why would someone want pens for their birthday anything? Your birthday was the one day you could ask for something you truly wanted and Changbin would more than likely get you it. You want a cow? He'd go out and find one for you. A car? He'd take you shopping.

"I asked Yn seven times if they were sure they wanted pens and they were," Changbin was sweating by this point, "pens" wasn't a good start for him. If you'd told him a brand or maybe a colour he would have done this in seconds but now he was overthinking everything, trying to figure out if it was a certain brand or maybe even a certain colour you were wanting. Don't even get him started on whether or not it was colouring pens or just for writing at home.

"They said black ink pens, they've run out at their office and they need new ones," Felix said suddenly from behind Changbin who slowly turned to face the younger member/

"I text them," Felix turned his screen to face Changbin and he let out a small breath, gathering about twenty packs of black pens of all different kinds and taking them to the counter.

HYUNJIN:

Hyunjin stared at you from the space beside you, maybe he'd heard you incorrectly but he was still processing what you'd told him that you wanted for your birthday. It wasn't as though it was something major, in fact, it was the complete opposite. Something so small Hyunjin could barely believe you'd even asked him for it,

"Say again..." He said slowly as he watched you, you slowly turned to look at him and smiled.

"Glasses wipes, I keep running out of them so easily I need them," You pouted at the thought of it. Last night you'd been lying in bed when you ran out of your favourite brand of glasses wipes and you were desperate to get them back,

"But just wipes? Nothing else?" He stared at you, he would have expected anyone else to give him a huge list of everything they could possibly ask for and he was truly stunned that you seemed to want something so trivial and small.

"They're the best, they don't leave streaks on my glasses." You shrugged before looking at your glasses and back to Hyunjin who was blushing a little. He found it cute that it was the only thing you wanted and he planned on getting you something extra even though you hadn't asked for it.

JISUNG:

"Are you sure that's all you want though? I could get you a new hard drive," Jisung offered as you stared back at him a little shocked at the offer. It was your birthday soon and he'd been wondering what to get you for a while now and instead of getting you something he didn't think you'd enjoy, he figured he'd ask you want you wanted instead.

"I don't need a new hard drive," You laughed a little and shook your head at him, the last thing you wanted was for him to spend a stupid amount of money on you when he didn't need to.

"But JUST a keyboard cover? You don't want a new mouse? Maybe a new keyboard for a new set-up?" Panic was bubbling inside of him as he thought about it. Why didn't you want something more from him? Surely it was his job to spoil you on your birthday.

"Yeah. I don't need anything else Sungie, a keyboard cover is all I need. I keep getting crumbs in my keys whenever I eat at my desk," You pouted at the thought of it, just last week Felix had come over to clean your PC and keyboard out for you since you didn't know where to start with it.

"Fine, but I'm getting you something else as well." He pouted at you before you cuddled into his side.

FELIX:

Every year it was the same routine, you'd ask for something trivial or small for your birthday and Felix would routinely ask you if you were sure that was what you wanted and nothing else.

"It feels silly," He told you as you stood inside the beauty store together, looking at a wall full of bath scrunches which was the thing you'd asked him to get you this year.

"Why? You asked me what I wanted." You laughed a little turning to look at an unimpressed-looking Felix who had one hand on his hip as he stared at you.

"You want me to buy you a new bath scrunchy and some bath products? You don't want me to get you some clothes or anything?"

"We do this every year," You reminded him as he let out a small whine at you. Felix wanted to get you everything your heart desired but you'd never let him and he knew that, 

"Because every year I want to spoil my partner but they'll never let me," He pouted at you as you let out a small whine this time and shook your head at him,

"I don't need to be spoiled. I don't want anything...Getting me things I need is better. Besides, we'll both use the bath scrunchy so it's a gift for you as well," You smiled sheepishly at him and he shook his head at you, quickly kissing your cheek before getting you a different selection of bath scrunchies before he went looking for some body wash and other products he knew you liked.

SEUNGMIN:

"Every year you fail in the gift department," Changbin chuckled as Seungmin told the boys what he'd gotten for you this year and you looked over at them.

"He does not." You whined out in his defence. Every year Seungmin got you exactly what you asked for and you wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world. The boys didn't know that it was all things you'd asked for though and just assumed that Seungmin had gone out of his way to buy said things for you.

"Last year he bought you a shampoo and conditioner set," Minho stated as you looked at the boys and then over at Seungmin who was looking a little defeated by the accusation.

"I asked him for it...Like I asked him for the new pillow set." You nodded at the presents you'd just opened and Seungmin began to blush a little. When he'd asked you last week what it was you wanted, you'd asked him for some new memory foam pillows and he'd agreed.

"But why? You could get whatever you want?" Felix seemed just as confused by the idea of you getting pillows, along with some new sheets and cases to go along with them.

"I wanted memory foam pillows and new sheets." You shrugged, kissing Seungmin deeply.

"Thank you for the perfect birthday present, baby." You whispered making the boys wolf whistle at the small display.

JEONGIN:

Jeongin couldn't figure out why you were asking for something so small and it still boggled his mind as you showed him what kind of brands you wanted for your birthday.

"You just want some skincare? Nothing else?" You thought about it for a minute before shaking your head. There was nothing else you really needed and you'd been wanting some new skin care products for a while now.

"I ran out of my vitamin C Oil last week, so it'll be a big help." You smiled at him and he shook his head at you a little. This was something you did every year when it came to your birthday, instead of asking for something you wanted you asked for something you needed instead and he was trying to get it through to you that it was okay to ask for something you wanted instead. But every year he failed and he'd get you something you needed instead.

"But, your birthday is supposed to be about getting ANYTHING you want. Not just something you need." You whined at him as he gave you the same speech he always did and you looked at him,

"I just don't like when people waste money on me...I'd rather get something I know I'll use and need in my life," Letting out a small sigh Jeongin nodded at you and added everything into his online basket before checking it out and purchasing everything for you.

Tagline: @chiisaiblog @hanasonmi @sw33tnight @acciocriativity @scarletemeterio​ @halesandy​ @aerastus​ @laylasbunbunny​ @critssq​ @lenfilms​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @meowmeowisdaname​ @imafivestarkpopstan​ @lost-leopard-beanie​ @illicee​ @djeniryuu​

[lady-ashfade]

Following The Tune

Percy Jackson x UnknownGod! Half-blood reader. (The reader is the child of the “Unknown” god, other wise known as Caias)

—£ Again, I have not finish the books so I’m making up my own gods/plot and stuff. I just find it fun. Also, reader has a sword like Percy, the pen.

—£ This is just a plot i made up, I just have a oc story in like so I did it! Please don’t hate because it has nothing to do with anything really (Or maybe it does)

—£ Warnings: Slight!Oc!Reader, slight angst, new lore to follow, all over the place, comfort.

The moment you laid your eyes on Percy Jackson- you knew he was different. Everything about him sang a different song the rest here. It was a familiar tone. When you learnt of what he had to face to get here made you guilty, knowing while you were dry and safe he had to face that same doom you faced.

“Maybe, just maybe…” you whispered while he slept. He look almost peaceful but the crinkle in his brows said another thing. Taking a step forward you close your eyes and tried to listen for something. Your senses elevate as you tried to sniff him out. Every was calling out but you couldn’t hold it for too long.

A creek in the floor boards threw you off and took you out of your powers, turning around there stood annabeth with a raised brow and her arms crossed. “I told you not to be in here.” You sighed and picked up your bag. Walking passed her and out of the door but she caught your wrist in her hands. “What did you feel?”

Snatching your arm away from her, a annoyed huff left your lips. “Nothing, not like you ever listen anyway.” You made it out the door before she could say anything to stop you. Now, you didn’t hate annabeth. It was just, no one ever liked to listen to you. She always thought she knew everything and when someone needed something from you- They tried to suck up to you.

But in the years you could call her somewhat of a friend, like everyone else. But there was no trust.

Which is way you made it out of the camp in the same way you always have, with no one noticing. You were the only half-blood in your cabin, no one to stick with at times. So being alone made it easy to slip away from time to time but it was always dangerous to go out. But you always had luck on your side.

Taking a step through the barrier you smiled feeling the human feeling of the air. Making your way to the road you followed, stopped a few times to figure your way to things. Took a few buses with the money you hoarded. 

Smirking when you stepped out on the pavement at your destination. It stunk. The streets sang with chatting of all the mortals, and the smell of greasy food. “Home.” Is what it reminded you of but there was a stench you didn’t like but continued to go about your way into the apartment building.

The empty cabin was looked over by Chiron and Grover, Luke standing by with his arm crossed. “How can they keep getting out like that? I don’t understand.” Grover pondered his thoughts out loud. “Get it from their farther.” Luke commented and shrugged, he smirked again at the thought of you.

“They’ll be safe, hopefully. Does anyone know why they lift this time?” Chiron looked at the boys as the taller one just shrugged again almost uninterested. Grocer shifted nervously and he looked down trying to not say anything but he gave up when the attention was on him.

“They visited Percy before they left. I don’t know why, maybe that has something to do with it?” The older man sighed and closed his eyes, the stress lines already showing. He nodded and walked out without a word while the boys looked at each other. It was a worried look but all they could do was await your return.

It was stupid. He was stupid. He smelled. The apartment smelled of beer that burned your noses and gave you a headache. All he did was sit on the couch and scream at the computer in his lap as you stared at him behind the wall. He was to busy to hear the door open. But you were thankful as his attention was so focused on the screen that he didn’t notice you. All you had to do was focus.

Closing your eyes you calm yourself and let your senses take over and watch for you. Slowly you got ahold of his mind which was dirty to look at, that it made you feel filthy. Making him tired you heard him yawn and feel his body start to give up. Opening your eyes you watch him drift off while he was confused as to why he felt so tired.

Once he was out cold you walked around the apartment with one idea in mind. To find a photo. Sally Jackson and her younger son, Percy Jackson. They weren’t hard to find and you found a wall of them on in the hallway. So many pictures of the family. He was so little and smiling with no clue of the hard world he knew now, his mother still by his side. But all of them had Gabe in them while little Percy glares daggers at him.

Moving on you looked on the tables for just a single photo to take back to him, one small memory to have with him. Then one image become clear.

“Don’t go to far,” her voice sounded lovely. The sun beaming down on the two of them, the sound of waves soothed the soul. “I wouldn’t mom.” It was Percy, you could seem them clearly. The day was beautiful. She smiled at her son as she watches him run off towards the waves, she knew. Watching him play in the water gave a high pitched sound in your ears.

This memory was different. You didn’t search for it. It was a forbidden memory.

The scene became dark and windy. No one seemed to notice and continued to play and smiled like they were. The waves clashed harder on the shore as the wind whistled through the ears. In the both places you covered your ears and tried to pull yourself out of it but nothing was working. Thunder clashed down from the clouds near the sand you walked one, making you jump each time.

“You wish to know? Weak, so very weak. I only show the truth little one,” the darken voice made you tense and watch black smoke come closer as it swallowed everything up. “Just like your father, always looking for trouble. But unlike him, you aren’t as well hidden.” Sometime touched your face, making you scream out in pain as it stung your cheek.

“Let this be known.”

You were pulled out, crushing over for your breath. Placing a hand up on your cheek you felt the pain and wet feeling, pulling it back you saw the red stain. “Blood.” Panicked you looked at the picture that gave you the vision and grabbed ahold of it. It was a core memory, one not to be messed with. Grabbing ahold of it you threw it in your bag quickly.

You frozen when you smelled that dreadful smell again, the sound of something heavy making the flooring creek. Turning around slightly your eyes went wide and took a step back trying to keep yourself from screaming. The large black figure with claws bigger then your face as it’s body took up all the hallway it squeezed itself into. It was your blood. It smelled you.

The green scales on it’s legs you could see made you feel sick, the empty face made you go white. Sprinting to the open window where the fire escaped was it knew what you were going to do and followed you, reaching out for you. Jumping over the railing and down the steps you cried out in fear as it crawled down the building. The screeching alone made you go crazy.

It was one of the faceless. Something your father had made, something that should have been on your side. But your father lost his war to hades and everything had been taken from him. He went into hiding, ignoring the prayers to him and turned his back on mortals. Until he had you. One last chance to be forgiven and have something to his name.

But he was coward, he lost his war and mind. There was nothing in him that you wanted to call your father, for his creations killed your mother. Maybe that’s why you wanted Percy to have the one thing you did not. Something to look at and never forget her face, her smile, the warmth.

“No, No. Nope.” You jumped down and the other way into the alleyway to get out of sight from people. From your pocket a pen, the cape flipped off and the shining blade lit up the shade. The figure come into the alley and looked at you, moving so slowly towards you. It wasn’t a smart choice but your parent wasn’t known for his smarts. But fleeing was.

Just one step…

Blackness started to take over your vision and you limped over the camp line, holding your stomach as something warm and sticky leaked all over your shirt. You used all your might to get to the camp alive, once you did your body gave out. Muffed voices called out to you but you couldn’t see clearly as blurry outlines leaned over you. When you were picked up the last thing you could remember was someone calling’s your name but you didn’t know who.

Percy watch in confusion as someone was rushed away, no one was saying anything. They were blood red, huge cuts across their shirt and skin. As he stared at them he could remember something he saw in a dream. That face…was watching him for a moment while he slept.

Something blinding hit his eyes and made him turn away. He blinked a few times and stepped back to see what it was. A brown frame facedown in the grass, it looked broken and bloody. He bends down and picked up the backpack, then the picture frame.

“Don’t go too far Percy.”

He saw his mom standing in a sunhat while her hair blew over her face, her arm wrapped around his smaller body. The cartoon shark trunks made him cringe, he used to never go swimming without them. This was a picture of him and his mom….What was it doing here? And why was it with someone he didn’t know.

The frame was broken, the glass shattered but he managed to pull the picture out and stand up when Grover called for him. He threw the bag over his shoulders and followed to the room were they had brought the camper he didn’t know. Percy refused to leave, he needed to talk to them. Everything was so confusing and maybe he could get some answers.

He stood at the corner of your room while watching over you, almost protectively. Percy clings onto the photo of his mom, while staying with you. Even started to eat lunch in your room and desperately waited for you to wake. You mumbled in your sleep while panicked and sweating up a storm. The meds they have you took longer to work and the cut on your cheek seemed to stay black while healing, a permanent scar.

“Percy…” the soft voice caught him off guard. Looking at you he noticed you still out like a light. You repeated the words his mother said just as sweet and caring.

Twitching in the bed, you started to groan louder and try to speak but nothing back out of your mouth. Seeing such destress made him scared, it was unlike anything he has seen before. “Y/n.” He walked close to the bed. He learned your name from the others.

“Wake up,” he shook you slightly in hopes to make you somehow wake up. Your body felt hot, too hot. “You’re freaking me out.” Maybe if I hit them with a pillow it will work, he thought to himself. A few seconds of pushing your shoulders and calling your name, he finally saw your eyes open for the first time.

Shifting your eyes in the light and away from the blurry vision you were spooked when something grabbed ahold of you. Jumping back you shoved his hands away, going as far back as possible. The last thing you remember was the faceless creature.

But you didn’t see the creature, but a boy with his hands held out in front of himself. The look on his face matching the slight fear and confusion you felt. “Percy?” You whispered and tilted your head to the side. He nodded and slowly lowered his arms while looking over you for any sign not to trust you. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I get that a lot.” He half joked full of sarcasms.

“No, no. You need to leave.” Your hands grip the side of the bed. It clicked in his brain that you didn’t move from your curled up place on the bed, your body still tense and shaking. You were scared of him.

“I’m not going to hurt you- Really, I just want answers.” He inched back to make you more comfortable. You watch him point to the corner, “You had a picture of me and my mom, why?” You look at the photo on the table and then back to him. You kept quiet and looked at the door trying to get him to leave but he didn’t budge.

His nose let out of huff, “Look, I’m not mad- Kinda weirded out but, I just want need some type of answer. No one around me tells me anything. Just give me something.” That’s when you saw him, truly saw him.

You looked at your younger self, standing before you with teary eyes while holding themselves close. No one wanted anything to do with you. It was easy to be forgotten and bullied. A nobody begging for a chance to prove themselves. Percy Jackson was just searching for a place in this world like you.

“I saw you the night before you came. I saw your mother, I saw everything happening but I had no clue.” Pulling your legs up and crossing them while covering yourself with your arms. “You deserve a photo of her, something I never had. Sometimes i follow the tone that’s showed to me,” Percy sat down on the bed listening to your story with all his attention and you could see his guilt, sadness and confusion.

“I heard the tone when I lost my mom, when I was claimed,” you look at the bed next to you, “And when i saw you enter the camp.”

“What does that mean?” Your shoulders go up and down as you hum without a true answer. “That you’re important.” His own shoulders drop down as he looked down at the floor in defeat. He got answers with the price of more questions

It was silent in the room. It was slightly uncomfortable but you could handle it. Then he spoke up, “Thank you by the way, it’s nice to see her.” You meet his eyes once’s again.

“You’re welcome, Percy.” Both your lips curled into a small smile. Maybe new friends were to be made this year.

[chrollohearttags]

toxic armin as your little mischievous work boyfriend that’s always flirting with you on the clock and trying to fuck on you after hours.

cw: nsfw, black fem reader, friends with benefits, both reader and Armin are toxic, fingering, car/public sex, mentions of weed; both consuming and selling, and vaping, perv armin, (he uses a bit of vulgar language), infidelity, backshots, squirting, oral sex, bulging, spit play, daddy’s used like once

📝: just a little random drabble I thought of at like midnight last night as one does and couldn’t get it out of my head. Toxic Armin is my new obsession as of late. This is also inspired by my boo @lemmetreatya ‘s lovely, amazing series!

working with Armin was always an adventure in and of itself. Someone who looked so innocent and sweet, always being as helpful as possible, would have never made you guess that he was the exact opposite, later on down the line! Having both been employees of the local convenience store for a few months, specifically the night time, where you’d catch a few stragglers coming in and out to buy cigarettes and lottery tickets. Third shifters heading out for the long twelve hour intervals ahead and stocking up on energy drinks, chips and candy to keep themselves awake. All in all though, it was fairly peaceful so it left much room for the two of you to get acquainted. You would go an hour or two at a time without so much as a single customer walking through your doors. Oftentimes, leaving you to your own devices. That’s when you first came to know Armin for who he truly was.

both of you college students, working part time for a little extra money but it didn’t take long for you to learn of his real occupation..watching him go outside for frequent ‘smoke breaks’; sucking on a vape pen while passersby would slide their hand across his for some sort of exchange. And he knew every single blind spot around the perimeter to avoid getting caught. The first sign that you knew this man was slicker than oil. That boyish charm was fooling nobody! But you were no snitch and you’d keep your mouth closed, as long as he promised to supply you with your own free of charge. “I got you as soon as we clock out, don’t worry..” It was a small compromise he was willing to make..especially for a pretty girl like you. Having a friend and his own personal eye candy in one made this shitty little side gig all the more worth it. So the two of you would sit in the chairs, watching surveillance and whatever show you were into at the moment from your phones to pass the time. Not to mention, talk shit about your clientele and any other topic that came to mind.

including the most taboo one..however, it did arise one night while you were in the backroom, getting ready to do a restock and you were confiding in one another about ex partners and how bad the relationships were. Now, he did have a notorious reputation for being a fuck boy as well so you took his words with a grain of salt. Even so, it was entertaining to listen to his tales of him having sex with girls who would sneak behind their boyfriends backs to come see him. Supplying them with the dick they so desperately craved before blocking their numbers and never talking to them again. “Damn, Armin. So you doing bitches like that? I’m scared of you..” always joking and teasing him as he tried to downplay his own efforts. You couldn’t judge him too much though because there was a slew of niggas on your own line that you had ghosted after getting ate out and then dipping before giving anything in return. Maybe that’s why you two got along so well..you were equally toxic! Still, he’d just give that same nonchalant shrug and pretend otherwise.

“You’re so crazy, (y/n). I have no idea what you’re talking about. All I do is work and go to school.” And indeed, that’s exactly what it would seem to anyone who spotted the baby-faced boy..with his pouty expression and pretty blue eyes. His blonde shag, always a little scruffy but styled just right. A single tattoo going down his forearm and a tongue piercing between his lips. It was easy to see why anyone would leave what they had at home for his ass. But you weren’t the only one with wandering eyes. Armin would catch himself stealing glances at you as you stowed away boxes. It was a horrible thing to do but sometimes, he’d watch you struggle for a bit to place one on a high shelf just so he could see your tits as your tight fitting shirt lifted or that thick ass jiggle in your pants. “Sorry, let me come help you.” His favorite phrase to utter after getting his eyeful.

he couldn’t lie, he had his fair share of girls but not one was seeing you in any aspect. From that pretty dark brown complexion, deep set matching eyes, tall frame and stacked, curvy figure. Your makeup and nails stayed laced..he had never once caught you without long acrylics, a new install or fluttery lashes, whether extensions or minks. Two gold nose cuffs sitting on your nostrils and a freshly started tattoo sleeve going down your forearm. Courtesy of your tricks that would be lucky to get anything more than your conversation. He respected it, honestly. One look and it was easy to see why you were always having your way. You could probably talk him up out of his clothes and a little cash too. This job was nothing more than a means to an end for you both. Something to pass time and make a little pocket change.

also, the perfect place to hook up after hours! You had developed a pretty promiscuous habit of flirting throughout the night; making little slick, dirty comments to each other out of earshot of anyone and even sneaking feels away from the view of the camera. When you’d bend down, he’d press himself against you..slowly rutting those hips to your backside. Rubbing up on your breasts. You didn’t make it any easier when you subtly bounced it on his pelvis to make him hard. Garnering a tiny damp spot on the fronts of his joggers. He couldn’t help it when you were so fine..and thick as hell. “(Y/N), if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were trying to get me in trouble.” “You are smart. How’d you know?” It didn’t take long before you could no longer hold back on those desires and things came to a head one night when he offered to take you home after getting off a little earlier than expected due to a pipe burst in the store. You were perfectly capable of driving yourself but he had other plans. Once back in the parking lot of your apartment complex, he’d hand off the complimentary he promised you after making sales and you vowing your silence.

normally, he’d pre roll your blunts but he had to see you in action for himself. Sitting in his passenger seat; windows tinted, doors locked and the subtle thud on music playing through the speakers of his Infiniti G35, Armin so casually reclined his seat as you placed the ground up seedlings into the papers..flicking that long tongue across the line to seal it up. The way he glared up at you, subtly chewing on his lip with his eyes half shut.. “..what’s wrong?” “Oh, nothing..you just look pretty tonight, that’s all.”

a compliment that shouldn’t have meant anything coming from his mouth but the way he so suavely uttered it, you couldn’t help but to feel something. You’d pass the blunt back and forth, getting high in his front seat until you began to feel a buzz..one that worked its way to your private areas! “Y’know (y/n)..you can lick a blunt real good. Thought I should tell you that..” Randomly declaring in his intoxicated state as he leaned over and brushed your cheek. At first, only making you laugh. “Nah, I think your ass is just nasty.” And he wouldn’t attest, not one bit. Instead, he’d offer to prove just how right you were!

his hand slowly creeping up your shirt and working to unfasten your pants. Those little lips brushing against your own in a weed induced haze and eventually blossoming into full blown deep kisses. Those once dormant fingers found home inside of your panties as your work clothes began to disappear from your bodies. His shirt off and tossed on the back floorboard as he crawled closer to you. Those lanky digits working their way around those wet folds and plump lips. Hearing you moan against his mouth in reaction to having your clit massaged. Watching your reaction as he buried it to the knuckle. Eventually, he’d work it inside; watching you nearly claw the leather off of his door handle as he spread your legs wider and fucked you with those fingers. “You’re so fucking tight, I can barely fit another one in..” but he had plans to stretch that little pussy out before he left. Soon, you’d find his head resting between your thighs and the sounds of slurping arose from that seat. “Oh, fuck..Arminnnn. That shit feels so good..” whimpering with that blunt in one hand and his golden locks in the other. So greedily and proudly devouring your cunt as he had never done any other woman before. For further lube, he’d glance up into your eyes; his cheeks sandwiched between your palms and ask a favor:

“Spit in my mouth, right now.” Further proving what you said earlier to be very true. Even so, you did as he asked; leaning forward to let saliva drip between his teeth and he ate to his heart's content. “Nasty ass..I love it.” Soon, you’d find yourself making a massive mess of his chin and center console. By the time he was finished, you left him with a mouthful of sweet nectar..the best he had ever tasted. And him being your best eater by far!

“I’ve never had anybody make me squirt off of head, you something else.” Laughing as you tried to fein embarrassment. But he wanted to see that pretty smile and you taste the remnants of yourself. Running his finger underneath your chin and feeding you sloppy pecks. “That’s nothing, baby. I can keep you coming all night.” Besides, you were his first experience with one so he couldn’t wait to feel that first hand..watching you flow all over him. But first, you wanted to return the favor and let him get a taste of what you had to offer. It wasn’t long before you found yourselves on the backseat; ass up in the air and his khaki sweats shuffled around his ankles. Seconds later, you were swallowing him whole. Sucking on his tip and looking into his eyes as you did so. You’d slather him up in spit, jerk him off until he couldn’t take another moment of teasing and start fucking your face. Forcing your head down on his cock until you cover him in all that saliva. And just because he was so good to you earlier, you don’t let up until he’s filling your throat full of nut and shaking violently from his orgasm. “Goddamn, (y/n)..!” Kissing you immediately after you make him come.

from there, you found yourselves fucking wildly; letting him give you rough backshots as you fogged up the windows in a weed induced haze. Only taking him halfway with a thumb in your ass until you opened up for him to fit more; Intoxicated on it and each other. “This dick feel so fucking good..” “..yeah? So who does it belong to now? Tell me.” And the answer was blatantly obvious. Letting him pound you like crazy until he was satisfied with what you said. Even choking you until he elicited the correct response.. “You daddy..it’s yours.” Losing count of the amount of times you make one another climax until you’re both too exhausted to move. You wetting him up and him emptying himself inside of you, begging with the promise of getting you a Plan B if you allowed it.. “I don’t want to pull out, baby..let me nut in it, please..” and the way he talked you through your orgasms, you were more than glad to do so!

by the time it came to an end, it was nearly four am and you were both so exhausted that you allowed him to spend the night at your place. Needless to say, there wasn’t much sleep once he got you behind closed doors…beating you sore in the shower and then fucking you slowly from the side until he fell asleep with his cock nestled between your folds.

from that day forward, your part time job became all that more exciting. And your partner in crime turned friend with benefits made the night shifts much more tolerable.

[praisethegabs]

METANOIA

ID!Professor!Leon Kennedy x Student!F!Reader

euphoria masterlist

summary: your relationship with your professor remains a secret for everyone. despite the fact that you both know this is wrong, you both can't stay away from each other, making this way too difficult than it should be. things don't end too well when an unexpected person from his past appears suddenly at the same time your ex decides to win you back, jeopardizing your secret.

warnings: age gap, reader is in college and in mid 20s while Leon is in his 30s. NSFW content, delicate to rough sex, p in v, oral receiving (both), praise kink, degradation kink (eventually), use of pet names (bunny), vaginal fingering, masturbation, cum swallowing, dom!leon and sub!reader. leon is insecure af. oc named chloe as the reader's best friend.

word count: 7271k

a/n: part two of the euphoria series. this part is much longer than the first one bc let's be honest, we need some drama to balance things.

tags: @worriedweirdo

METANOIA (psychology) is the process of experiencing a psychotic "breakdown" and subsequent, positive psychological re-building or "healing"

The early morning light filtered through the blinds, casting a warm glow across the sparsely decorated room despite the noise caused by the rain. Leon sat at his desk, gazing out at the campus that spread before him like a promise of new beginnings. He took a deep breath, the crisp air filling his lungs, as if to cleanse the lingering doubts that clung to him.

The recent break-up had been a harsh jolt, a sudden rending of a once inseparable bond. The wounds were still fresh, and Leon sought solace in the unfamiliar halls of Woodsboro University. It was a chance for reinvention, a slate wiped clean.

As he leafed through the pages of his notebook, his pen poised in mid-air, Leon couldn't help but revisit the night that had left him wrestling with his own morality. A chance encounter with you, a whirlwind of emotions, and a single night that blurred lines he had once thought clear.

He had always prided himself on his sense of right and wrong, on being a man of integrity. But now, as he sat in the quiet of his new office inside his new apartment, those lines seemed to blur, to twist and contort into something unfamiliar. He wondered if this was a sign of weakness, a fracture in the armor he had worn for so long.

With a heavy sigh, Leon closed the notebook, setting aside his doubts for the moment. He knew he couldn't change the past, but he could shape the future. He would navigate this new chapter with care, mindful of the choices he made, and the impact they would have.

As the clock ticked on, Leon's resolve strengthened. He had to remind himself to find his way in this new environment, redefining not only his academic pursuits but also the man he aspired to be. The weight of his decisions, both recent and past, served as a reminder that growth often came from moments of discomfort.

But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself it was wrong and his morals were in conflict, the more he wanted to replay that night. Leon thought he could never feel that way again, he even believed he was destined to be alone, but when he saw you dancing in that crowded room, looking so beautiful and desirable, he felt something new floating inside his stomach.

It was pure physical attraction, but lord have mercy, his body reminded him everyday about this carnal pleasure, which he only felt with you and despite the fact he wanted you desperately, he still found himself in constant conflict.

A knock on his door was enough to catch his attention.

And there you were; your hair dropping water from the rain outside. You already knew the way to his place, and despite the fact that your relationship was pure sexual, you couldn't help but feel something for him as well.

"Why did you take so long? I was starting to get worried, " he said as you entered his place, watching outside carefully to make sure no one saw you.

"I'm sorry, but it's raining outside, and I had to stop before coming here," you said to him, removing your jumper. "I bought this. For you"

It was a bottle of wine. He seemed surprised by your kind gesture, but the feeling of guilty was practically eating him alive inside and out. Every time he tried to go back, to turn away from you, he ended up fucking you hard. It felt like this was the only way to release his conscience from guilt, the only way he could wash his insecurities and doubts; you ended up being his drug, his addiction. And he hated himself for using you like that.

"I think we should talk" he says, sighing heavily. He needed to be strong. He needed to do what was right.

"I think we should talk" he says, sighing heavily. He needed to be strong. He needed to do what was right.

"What's wrong?" You asked, the smile on your lips fading away when you notice isn't good news.

"I don't know. I can't keep reminding myself this is wrong, that we shouldn't be doing this... I came here because I wanted to start over, to forget what happened before... but then, when I saw you... and later that night when we had sex..." Leon said, walking around his living room, venting his feelings and his thoughts with you. "I just can't stop thinking I'm an awful person that's just using you to release my conscious from guilt... but this is so messed up... I mean, I could actually be your father and... and I'm your fucking professor... God, this is so wrong"

And his confession, this breakdown he was having... it was the first time you saw someone scared like this. You thought he was having a middle age crises or something like that, and you know he was entirely right. What you both were doing was wrong, against a lot of rules and basically defying the ethics and morals between your positions. But at the same time, he was so weak for you, and you were so weak for him. He was the only person that could put you on your knees, and apparently, you were the one that made his eyes sparkle like fireworks in the night sky.

This was pure chemistry.

Leon sat on the edge of an old, worn-out armchair, his face buried in his hands, his disheveled hair a stark contrast to the exhaustion etched into his features. You sat across him, wondering what you could possibly do. Taking a deep breath, you decided again to follow your guts. He needed you.

You moved closer, the soft rustling of your movements breaking the silence as you knelt down beside him. You placed a gentle hand on his trembling back.

"Leon," you whispered, your voice a soothing balm, "you don't have to carry this burden alone."

Leon's shoulders shook, and he lifted his head, tears glistening in his weary eyes.

"You don't understand. I've put you in danger. Our secret, it's a ticking time bomb." He said, and for a moment, you knew something was wrong with him. Maybe he was having a hard time accepting what happened between you two. "It's just a matter of time before one of us end fucked up"

You moved even closer, your touch becoming more comforting as you cradled his face in your hands.

"I know it's complicated, Leon. But we've made that choice knowing the risks. I'm not a child, and I can make my own choices. You're not alone in this." You said assuring, trying to find the right words to make him understand that you were in this too.

A tremor ran through Leon's body as he looked into your eyes, seeing nothing but understanding and love there. It was a carnal relationship. You were not his girlfriend, and yes, he was old enough to be your father, but you weren't naive. You wanted to be with him, and he knew that.

"I'm just scared, sweetheart. Scared that one day, they'll find out about us, and you'll be hurt because of me. I can lose my job and never teach again... there's so many things that could happen" Leon sighs, trying to recompose himself. He sounded like a baby boy, but he didn't care. He was honest with his feelings.

You leaned in, your foreheads touching, and whispered:

"Leon, I made this choice too. I knew the risks. But I also knew that I wanted you so badly... and at this point, I just can't stay away from you... and it sucks because I never imagined I would fall in love with my old-enough-to-be-my-dad professor. But here I am" you said, facing his blue eyes so deeply. He penetrates your soul, invading your veins like a drug.

His breathing slowed, and he nodded, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist, and it was just the two of you, finding solace in each other's embrace.

"I'm not ready for another relationship" he whispers, sounding broken. And that hit you really hard.

"I'm not either. But I promise I won't hurt you... just let me... take care of you" you whispered, your forehead touching his, as you feel his breath against your face.

Six months passed since his apparent breakdown that day.

And since that day, Leon seemed happier than before. All his worries were washed away when he decided to give himself another chance and enter this journey with you. He was healing, learning a new life with you, and despite the fact that it was a secret, he couldn't help but feel a teenager again.

He was distracted, writing in the board and thinking about his life. Then, when Leon turned to face his class, you were there, in the front row. Your eyes locked on his, and the way he was looking at you, it was enough to make your body go feral, already feeling something wet between your thighs.

"So, today's class will be different. I won't give you guys another lecture, " Leon says, making his students chuckle. "Shall we try a new dynamics? Please, Chloe, give me a hand"

Chloe glanced at you, and her cheeks blushed hard. She knew what was happening between you two, and when she saw you nodding discretely your head, she sighed in relief. She went next to him, waiting for new instructions. Leon asked her to help move some desks from the front row, giving enough space to everyone join them in a circle.

"I know, it's sounds like we're in elementary school, but I promise it'll be fun" Leon says, sitting on the floor. "When the subject is war, I want you guys to have a different experience. Yes, we all know what happened between 1914 and 1945, plus the consequences after this war..."

His method was simple but very effective. Although he was old, Leon had a way with his students, and the way he used to teach and talk about history, well... it was something else. He was funny and very intelligent. It was worthy to listen to him talk about the subjects because he made everything sound amazing and interesting.

"But let's be honest in here. Do we really know the consequences? The way people were affected? In history, we say there were thousands of people homeless, alone, and broken both emotionally and mentally. The war affected our economy, our jobs, our families..." Leon kept saying, his eyes focused on something else while he was gesturing his hands. "And when we see things from another perspective, we can change the world if we want. Thinking about that, today we'll share together stories from our families and how we got affected by previous events"

His class sounded surprised. He always found a way to improve his classes, to let people feel comfortable, and to enjoy their time together. And it was true. You could see Leon was very passionate about his job. That glow in his eyes, the way he treated every subject.

"Who wants to go first?" Leon asks, and everyone raised their hands, with no exceptions. "Okay... let's start with..."

And then, his eyes met yours. Everyone was looking at you, even Chloe. You gasped, but then started to talk.

"My family's experience during World War II," you began, your gaze fixed on the map, "is a story of resilience and sacrifice. My grandmother lived in Poland during the war. She was just a teenager when the war broke out."

You paused, your thoughts drifting back in time as you continued. Then you remembered all the times that your family shared this story as a reminder of how cruel the world could be sometimes.

"Her family faced the unimaginable. They were forced to flee their home as the Nazis occupied Poland. They endured hunger, fear, and the constant threat of discovery. My great-grandfather joined the resistance, risking his life to fight for his country's freedom." You said next, remembering the countless times your grandmother told you that story.

You stood up, walked to the board, and moved your finger across the map, tracing the path of your family's journey.

"They traveled for weeks, sometimes on foot, seeking refuge in neighboring countries. They faced discrimination and hardship along the way, but they never lost hope." You said, showing the path your family did to escape war.

"Eventually, they found safety in the United Kingdom, where they rebuilt their lives. My grandmother went on to become a nurse, dedicated to helping others, inspired by the wartime experiences that had shaped her." Your voice grew more impassioned as you shared your family's story.

The classroom was silent, the gravity of your family history sinking in. Leon, especially, couldn't keep his eyes off you. He was paying attention to every single word you said.

"Their story is a testament to the strength of the human spirit during the darkest of times. It's a reminder that war doesn't just affect soldiers and politicians; it touches the lives of ordinary people in profound ways." You concluded, looking at your colleagues, feeling his eyes on you.

"Thank you for sharing that personal perspective. It's a powerful reminder of the human stories that lie beneath the pages of history books." And then, Leon nodded, his eyes filled with respect for your storytelling.

Moving forward, everyone in the class had their moment to speak. Meanwhile, you've noticed that sometimes, Leon was looking at you and then looking somewhere else. At the end of the class, he called you again. His excuse was something related to your last essay that he needed to tell you, and that was why he waited until everyone left the room.

"Am I in trouble, Mr. Kennedy?" You asked, biting your lower lip as you watch him close the door.

"Oh, you have no idea," he said, walking towards you, his hand reaching the back of your head as he pulled you into a kiss. "God, you're so beautiful today. I had a hard time focusing in the class"

"That's why you suggested the conversation? Very smart" you whispered, feeling his lips on your neck as he kisses you passionately.

"Meet me tonight at my place" he said, his hand sliding through your thighs, making their way to your pussy. "At seven"

"Yes, sir" you moaned softly in his ear, automatically spreading your legs for him.

You felt his fingers touching your pussy. Today, you were using a skirt with no panties, since you liked to tease him between classes and when he saw that, he went crazy. You knew he would make you pay back for teasing him, but you didn't care.

"Come on, you really thought I didn't see you teasing me like that?" Leon whispered, circling your clit very slowly as your body joints with his touch. "Such a naughty girl... you think you can walk around shaking that ass and I won't do anything?"

"No, sir" you moaned, biting your lip and trying to control your breath while he kept touching you, his fingers dancing and playing with you.

He kept circling your clit, sometimes his fingers entering your pussy, savoring your cunt. With his free hand, he grabbed your hair tight, pushing your head back and forcing you to look at him while he's fucking you with his fingers. You knew if you closed your legs, he would punish you, so you didn't dare to defy him.

"Please, sir... let me cum" you begged, already feeling the pleasant feeling growing inside you.

And then, a knock on his door was enough to make him back off. Your legs were shaking, your breathing was labored, and Leon glanced at you, being extremely calm. He swallowed and smiled at you.

"Yes?" He said out loud to the person outside.

The door opened.

There was a beautiful woman, she was the most gorgeous you've ever seen in your life. She had a look in her face that you knew pretty well; arrogance. Her eyes met yours, and you felt something burning within you. The way she was looking at him... it made you uncomfortable.

And when she entered that room, you looked at Leon. He was pale.

When you entered your apartment, Chloe was sitting next to the window and painting her nails. When she noticed the look you had on your face, she immediately stopped what she was doing, knowing you needed to talk.

"Hey, bestie. You look like you've seen a ghost. What's up?"

You dropped your bag beside Chloe and plopped down next to her. You took a deep breath and began.

"You won't believe what happened after class today. Leon and I were talking about my essay when this mysterious woman walked in." You said to her, avoiding some spicy details.

"Mysterious woman? Do you mean like a substitute teacher or something?" Chloe raised an eyebrow.

"No, Chloe, it was nothing like that. She was… I don't even know how to describe her. Short dark hair, wearing this red dress that looked like it was from a different century, and she had this air of, I don't know, mystery and arrogance." You shook your head, describing the woman you saw earlier.

"Okay, so what did she do?" Chloe's curiosity grew as she leaned closer, listening to every single word you said.

"The weird part is that as soon as she walked in, Leon's entire demeanor changed. He went all distant, like he didn't even know me. And then, Chloe, he started talking to her. He sounded a little nervous, and she was practically eating him in there!" You continued, your voice tinged with frustration and confusion.

"That's... bizarre. I mean, Leon has always been attentive to you. Are you sure it wasn't just some random conversation?" Chloe's eyes widened, and she leaned in closer.

"I'm positive, Chloe. I could see it in his eyes. It was like he was under some kind of spell, completely captivated by her. And the way they looked at each other, it was like I didn't even exist." You nodded vigorously, sighing again. The image is playing in your head like a loop.

Chloe frowned sympathetically.

"Wow, sis, that does sound strange. Maybe you should talk to Leon about it, find out what's going on." She suggests, trying to cheer you up, knowing it was the right thing to do.

"I know I should, but I don't even know how to bring it up. It felt so... personal, you know? Like they had this secret connection, and I was just an outsider." You sighed again, your frustration evident.

Chloe looked at you like she was thinking about the right words. She knew about your secret relationship with Leon, and despite the fact she was concerned at the very beginning, she truly supported you. And then, you feel her put her arm around your shoulders.

"You're not an outsider, sweetie. Leon cares about you, and there must be a reasonable explanation for this. Maybe he didn't even realize he was acting that way. Talk to him, okay? Communication is key." She says kindly at you, her smile shining.

"You're right, Chloe. I'll talk to him and try to figure this out. I just hope it's nothing serious." You sighing, nodding your head, agreeing with Chloe.

She smiled again and then returned to finish her nails. You texted Leon to know if you could go see him or talk, and then, you left your phone to do your papers from the week.

As the hours pass by, you get no replies from Leon, which is odd. He never failed to text you. Even when he had a lot of essays to read, he always took some minutes from his time to talk to you.

You had spent the past few hours anxiously pacing your apartment, your mind a whirlwind of worry and confusion. Leon had been avoiding your calls and messages, and your instic were telling you something was wrong. Finally, unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, you decided to confront him. Lucky for you, Chloe wasn't in there to stop you from doing something stupid. You didn't care.

You took some time to go to his place. You were thinking about that woman. The way she looked at you, the way she was standing between the two of you. You felt something inside your chest. And it wasn't good.

You stood before the door to Leon's apartment, your heart pounding in your chest. With trembling fingers, you knocked on the door, the sound echoing in the hallway. After what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open, revealing Leon's tired face.

"Hey," you stammered, your voice quivering. "We need to talk."

Leon hesitated for a moment before reluctantly stepping aside, allowing you to enter his cozy and cute apartment. The atmosphere felt heavy, suffused with an unspoken tension. You could sense that something was terribly wrong.

You both stood there for a moment, neither of you saying a word. Finally, Leon broke the silence, his voice strained.

"We can't keep doing this." He says, avoiding your eyes for a brief moment.

Doing what? You thought, your heart sinking. You knew exactly what he meant, but hearing it out loud was a devastating blow.

"What do you mean?" Tears welled up in your eyes as you whispered, your heart skipping a few beats inside your chest.

Leon ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his eyes avoiding yours.

"Us. This... relationship, whatever it is. It's not fair to either of us. I can't give you what you deserve, and I can't keep pretending that I can." He says, and for a moment, you thought he was also heartbroken.

Your entire world seemed to crumble around you as the words sunk in. You had grown so attached to Leon, and you had allowed yourself to hope for something more. But now, it was all slipping away. Tears spilled down your cheeks, your voice trembling with hurt and anger.

"So, you're just going to push me away without even trying to make it work?" You ask him, your words painfully hitting you hard.

"I wish it were that simple. But it's not. I can't keep hurting you like this." Leon's shoulders slumped, and he looked defeated.

With that, he turned away from you, leaving you standing alone in his apartment. You felt like your heart had been ripped from your chest. You knew that trying to change his mind would be futile. With a heavy heart, you made your way to the door.

As you stepped out into the cold night air, you felt a mix of emotions — heartbreak, anger, and confusion. You couldn't go back to your apartment, not now. Chloe would ask you a thousand different questions, and you weren't in the mood to answer. In a moment of recklessness, you reached for your phone and called your ex-boyfriend, someone familiar who had always been there for you.

"Hey," you said when he answered. "Do you want to meet up? I could use some company."

Matthew's voice was warm and comforting as he agreed, and you knew that, at least for tonight, you needed the familiarity of the past to help mend your wounded heart.

As you stepped into the bar, the low hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses enveloped you. Looking around, you couldn't help but feel a pang of nervousness as you glanced at the familiar figure waiting by the entrance. Matthew, your ex-boyfriend, stood there with a hesitant smile, his eyes carrying a mix of uncertainty and nostalgia.

"Hey," he said, his voice soft.

"Hey," you replied, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Then, you two exchanged awkward pleasantries and then settled into a booth at the back of the bar.

The atmosphere was charged with unspoken words as they ordered drinks. After a moment, Matthew cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

"You know, I've been thinking a lot about us lately," he admitted, his gaze fixed on the tabletop.

"Me too, Matt. It's hard not to, you know." You sighed, you heart fluttering.

You two began to talk about your past, reminiscing about the good times and dissecting the reasons for your breakup. As the conversation flowed, old emotions resurfaced, and your connection reignited. With a mixture of longing and desire, Matthew reached across the table and gently caressed your hand. You met his gaze, your eyes filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty.

And then, you finally remembered your previous conversation with Leon. You were so heartbroken by his words; he made you feel like heaven, and then he dropped you like you were nothing. And the sad part was you couldn't understand why.

You look at Matthew, and then it happens.

Your lips met in a passionate kiss, igniting a spark that died a long time ago. But as your kiss deepened, a wave of nausea washed over you, and you pulled away, gasping.

"I... I need some air," you stammered, sliding out of the booth and rushing towards the exit.

The cool night air hit your face as you stumbled outside, trying to collect your thoughts. Feeling disoriented, you leaned against the brick wall of the bar. That's when you heard a familiar voice.

"What the hell?"

Turning around, you found herself face to face with Leon. His eyes widened in surprise as he took in your disheveled appearance.

"Leon, I..." You started, but before you could explain, Leon interrupted.

"Come with me," he said firmly, slipping his arm around your waist and leading your away from the bar. You both walked in silence, a subtle tension hanging in the air.

As they reached Leon's apartment, you felt a mix of relief and trepidation. Leon's face was tense, his brows furrowed, as he tried to find the right words to express his feelings. The tension between them was palpable, a thick cloud of unresolved emotions hanging in the air.

"You went out with Matthew again?" Leon's voice was laced with disappointment as he folded his arms across his chest.

"What's the big deal, Leon? You're the one who ended things, remember? You said we wouldn't work out." You look at him, angry and frustrated.

Leon sighed, running a hand through his hair. He had to choose his words carefully.

"It's not that simple. There are things you don't know." He says, avoiding your gaze for a moment. There you knew, he was hiding something.

"Leon," you began, your voice quivering with a mix of frustration and hurt, "I can't believe you're making such a big deal out of this."

Leon took a deep breath, trying to remain calm.

"It's not about making a big deal out of it. It's about trust and respect in our relationship." He says firmly, trying to justify what happened.

You clenched your fists, your eyes flashing with anger. For a moment, you wanted to punch him in the face after he said that. He was being a hypocrite.

"Trust? Respect? You're the one who broke up with me, remember? You said we wouldn't work out. So why do you care who I go out with now?" You asked him again, your voice raising a little.

Leon's jaw tightened.

"I broke up with you because of something else, but that doesn't mean I stopped caring about you. And it certainly doesn't mean I want to see you with your ex."

You shook your head, your frustration mounting. Why couldn't he just trust you? You both been hiding this relationship for months, and now you noticed he didn't truly trust you. And that hurts a lot.

"You can't have it both ways, Leon. You can't end things and then act like you have a say in who I see or what I do." You said to him with a deep sigh. And it was true. He wasn't your owner.

Leon's voice grew more desperate.

"I still love you. I thought we could work through our problems, but seeing you with him... it hurts." He said, his breath was heavier.

"What are you hiding from me?" You ask him, wanting nothing more but the truth. You deserved to know. "Who was that woman?"

Leon avoided your gaze again, which made you way more angrier. He sat on his couch, his face buried in his hands. At this very moment, he was having the most difficult choice in his hands. It was a burden.

"She's... my ex fiancé" Leon finally looks at you, and this time, your jaw dropped. "And I think she knows about us"

And again, you felt your heart skipping a few beats. Your palms were sweating cold, and you felt your entire body shaking. This was very serious.

"What do you mean?" You ask, sounding less angry and more concerned, sitting next to him on his couch.

Leon took a deep breath, his fingers trembling as he pulled out his phone. He unlocked the screen and handed it over to you. On the screen were a series of threatening text messages, the sender's name blocked. Your eyes widened as you read the ominous words.

"Leon, who's sending you these messages? What's going on?" You ask horrified to him, still looking at his phone.

Leon swallowed hard, his throat dry.

"I don't know who it is, but they somehow found out about us, about our relationship. Look at the last message." He pointed at the screen, his voice quivering with a mix of fear and anger.

The final message was chilling: "Break up with her, Leon, or everyone at college will know your secret. Your reputation will be ruined."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked up from the phone to meet Leon's gaze.

"Leon, holy shit... we can't let them control us like this. I know it's against the rules, but we love each other." You said, trying to be reasonable. You were shaking. If someone leaked the information, he would be ruined for life.

Leon nodded, his eyes filled with determination.

"I know. I don't want to break up with you. But I'm scared of what they might do if we don't comply." He sighs, trying to find a way out from this mess.

"So... I think we... I don't know" Your voice sounds more like a whisper, and he looks at you.

Then, suddenly, you feel his lips against yours, his hands trailing down your body. Leon gripped your wrist and twisted it behind your back; you can feel his nails dug sharply into your skin, and instantly, you felt a rush of excitement, followed immediately by a wave of desire.

You had secretely wanting for this, had spelled out the fantasy in detail, wondering how he would fulfill your fantasy. And now that it was here, digging into your flesh and forcing your face-down onto the wall, it was too much: not just the helplessness, but how exciting the helplessness felt.

You didn't want to be that person. That cliche, the powerful woman who deep down just wants to be mastered by a more powerful man. Your safeword bubbled up in your throat, but you gritted your teeth and choked it back down. You had begged for this, and by God, you were going to see it through.

Leon led you to his room, already throwing you on his bed, spreading your legs without gentleness. He needed you. He desired you more than anything.

He forced his knee between your thighs and fumbled with his zipper, and all you could do was basically smalls whimpers, in something resembling real panic, as you felt pure wetness inside your pussy, already aching without his touches.

"Jesus Christ, bunny... I've missed seeing you like this" he whispers, his lips already circling your nipples.

His words made your pussy wetter, and the sharp fingers forcing your cunt lips apart made it wetter still, and you moaned in desire and pleasure at your treacherous pussy that was begging for his cock to force itself inside you like it was the last thing you would do in life.

"I'm gonna take you, bunny. I'm gonna make you scream my name" he said, his grip getting tight as you feel your stomach twisting.

And then, you feel him rammed himself inside you with full thrusts, going so deeper that you felt pain at first. He pinned your hands up, holding them so tight that it was almost impossible to get rid of him. His lips sucked your nipples with so intensity that when he released them, it was a soft shade of red.

"My bunny seems lusty" he moans again, still holding you tight.

"F-uck" you moan, closing and squeezing your eyes, your body automatically following his pace, your tits shaking up and down.

You feel Leon moving in and out of you. And your body jerked back and forth with the strength of his movement. The bed was practically banging against the wall with violence, and with every sharp thrust, your skin slapped together lusciously. This sex was loud and violent, just as you'd wanted.

Your moans and cries grew louder. You were at the very edge, about to explode into pleasure. Noticing how close you were, Leon flipped you over seamlessly and continued pumping into you with enough force to make you see stars. You were crying, desperate to be released, desperate to have your orgasm and be his.

You open your eyes, tears falling down your cheeks. His eyes were shining like sapphires, touched by the sun in a glorious morning, and his perfect features were shimmering with sweat. Leon looked beautiful than ever, like he was made by the Gods and blessed with their grace.

“You are mine, bunny. Do you understand me? I don't want to see you with him ever again" he rasped fiercely, leaning forward, as you felt him grabbing your face gently with one hand.

Waves of heat flooded your body. All you wanted was to cum on him, all you wanted was to be his and his only. You didn't care if people find out about you two; you wanted him.

Suddenly, Leon obliged you, wrapping his arms around your back. All you left escape was a gasp when he swung you onto his lap as he moved to the edge of the bed, still forcing you to keep your legs open. In one brutal thrust, he set you down on his length, filling you so suddenly you cried out in shock. His hands roamed, over you back and bottom, on your breasts, rubbing against your nipples.

He was everywhere.

Leon pulled you back up and then slammed you down again. You felt like you were flying, spinning, wondering why he made you feel so good and why you didn't let him do that before. Waves of pleasure rolled over you, making your entire body shiver with anticipation of your climax. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, holding you down when gravity ceased to exist.

And he was kind to let you cum.

You gasped for air, and the orgasm came to your relief. You were vaguely aware of his voice, your body shaking with this sudden release of pleasure as he whispered words of love and care. When you came back to your reality, you glanced at him, a tired smile on your lips, indicating you were more than satisfied.

"I love you" he says finally, kissing you passionately, his sweaty face and tired expression admiring yours.

Things couldn't be better for both of you and Leon. Sure, you both had to pretend for everyone nothing was going on. His ex fiancé was still around, and Matthew kept trying to convince you to hang out, which you declined every time, saying you needed to focus on college and, most recently, your new job.

You were working on a coffee shop not so far from your apartment, and you were excited. At least once in a week, Leon would go in there just to see you, and sometimes he wasn't alone. A few other professors would go in there as well, so he had excuses to see you.

As for the blackmail messages, it stopped for a few days. The last one he received was a picture from both of you kissing, so he decided it was safe to keep things lay low. He had to ignore you during classes, he avoided you inside the college — but at his apartment he would eat you alive without hesitation, making his neighbors know you're his and make them hear you moan very loud and beg to cum.

"So, how you're doing?" Chloe asks, sitting next to you for lunch. "It seems like you're happier than usual"

"Oh, it's just my new job" you said, obviously lying. Leon had specifically told you not to tell anyone, even your best friend.

"I'm happy for you" she smiled, her eyes shining again. "Does Matthew keep texting you?"

"Not really, I said that night was a mistake, and I was drunk. I apologized to him, " you explained, your eyes focused on your laptop as you research for your next assignment. "Anyways, it won't happen again"

Chloe nods, and then her attention returns to her own work. You wanted so badly to tell her about you and Leon, but you knew you couldn't put him in trouble. You sat at your desk in your bedroom, your fingers tapping nervously on the keyboard as you tried to focus on your homework. The soft glow of your laptop illuminated the room, casting a pale, eerie light on your anxious expression. You glanced at the clock on your wall, your heart racing with anticipation. Leon was supposed to call you any minute now.

Just as you reached for your phone, it vibrated with an incoming message. Your heart skipped a beat as you picked it up, hoping to see Leon's name. Instead, the message was from an unknown number.

The message read: "Naughty slut. I know your secret. I know about you and Leon. If you don't do as I say, everyone at college will find out."

Fear clenched at your chest, and you felt your hands trembling. You knew he was receiving messages, and it was a matter of time before you got your first, too. You quickly typed a response, your fingers fumbling on the screen.

"Who is this? What do you want?"

The reply came almost instantly, and it sent a chill down your spine: "You'll find out soon enough. But here's a taste of what's to come."

A photo appeared on the screen, a candid shot of you and Leon sharing an intimate moment inside his apartment. Your heart sank as you realized just how much the blackmailer knew.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you texted back: "Please, don't do this. We'll do whatever you want, just don't ruin our lives."

The reply was merciless: "You have 48 hours to meet my demands. You'll receive instructions soon. Remember, I'm watching."

Your phone went silent, but the threat hung in the air like a dark cloud. You knew your world was about to crumble, and there was no escape from the impending storm. You couldn't tell Leon, the blackmailer would know instantly. It was only you.

The room was dark and silent, the only source of illumination being the glow of your phone on the bedside table. You had been sitting there for what felt like an eternity, anxiety gnawing at you every passing minute. You had followed the instructions meticulously, as the blackmailer had demanded: no police, no friends, no Leon, just you, alone.

The digital clock on your phone ticked away relentlessly, the seconds feeling like a cruel countdown to your impending doom. You had been given 48 hours to comply with the blackmailer's demands, and time was running out.

As you stared at the screen, your heart raced with every passing minute. You knew the stakes were high, but the thought of exposing her secret relationship with Leon was unbearable. You couldn't let anything bad happen to him.

Just when desperation was starting to overtake you, a familiar chime broke the silence of the room. A text message had arrived. Your trembling hands reached for the phone, and you unlocked it with trembling fingers.

The message was chillingly simple: "You have one hour. Go to the college auditorium. Come alone, or your secret will be revealed."

Your heart sank as you read those words. The threat was crystal clear, and you had no choice but to comply. You quickly texted back an acknowledgment, confirming your compliance.

With a heavy heart, you began to prepare. You couldn't let this person destroy your life and Leon's. The next hour was a blur of frantic thoughts and hasty preparations. You dressed in dark clothing, concealing your identity as best as you could.

As the minutes ticked away, you left your apartment, your heart pounding with fear and determination. You had no idea what awaited you at the auditorium, but you were willing to do whatever it took to protect Leon.

As you arrive at the college, you walk towards the auditorium. You pushed open the heavy oak doors of the college auditorium, your heart pounded in your chest. That room, usually a place of inspiration and camaraderie, felt eerie and foreboding today.

The rows of empty seats seemed to stretch endlessly before you, leading you closer to the stage where a single figure stood, bathed in a cold, unforgiving spotlight. Chloe. Your best friend. The person you trusted the most.

"Chloe, what's going on?" Your voice quivered as you approached your friend, your steps echoing in the cavernous auditorium.

"Surprise" Chloe turned, her face twisted with a mix of emotions, her eyes wide and frenzied.

"Why are you doing this?" You demanded, tears brimming in your eyes as you realized it was her all the time.

"Because I love you, sweetheart. I've always loved you, and I couldn't stand seeing you with Leon." Chloe's laughter was unnerving, a shrill, hollow sound that bounced off the walls.

Your heart sank as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Chloe's jealousy had driven her to blackmail, to manipulate, to hurt those you cared about.

"You... love me?" You stammered.

Chloe's expression twisted with a manic intensity.

"Yes! I would do anything for you, darling. I had to get rid of Matthew and Leon to eliminate the competition and to make you see that you belong with me." She reveals to you, sounding sadistic and crazy.

She opened the curtains from the auditorium, and there he was. His face had a few bruises, and he was gagged, tied by his hands. You gasped in shock, but you didn't dare to move. You felt a chill run down your spine. This wasn't the Chloe you had known. This was a stranger, consumed by obsession.

"Chloe, this isn't love," you said, your voice trembling. "This is madness."

Chloe's laughter grew louder, more unhinged.

"You don't understand, darling. I did it all for us." She looks at you, pointing a knife towards you.

As Chloe's words hung in the air, the auditorium's silence was shattered by the sound of sirens approaching in the distance. Your heart raced, realizing that Chloe's breakdown had reached a critical point.

"I can't let them take you away," Chloe muttered, her voice a desperate whisper.

Before you could react, Chloe lunged forward, but a uniformed police officer burst through the auditorium doors, gun drawn. Chaos ensued, the echoes of sirens and shouting blending with your racing thoughts.

It happened fast.

In one minute, Chloe tried to end his life. In the other, you heard a gunshot, and Chloe was on the floor. You screamed, reaching both Leon and Chloe.

[threadsun]

Z Anon Asks: "Hoi, I was wondering, (Skip this if you've already done this) , how would the SDJ boys + Barry and Bo react if they swap body with MC for a day or so? Like I imagine Jean, Bo, and maybe Barry and Ian being pervs lol. This been in my for quite some time now.

<3 ~ Z"

Content: body swapping, masturbation, blackmail

Jack:

The first thing he does is explore your body. Not for any weird reason, he swears! He just... wants to learn how to best please his Sunshine. What better way to know which spots to touch and tease than to try it out when he can feel exactly how your body reacts to it?

Other than that, it's mostly frustrating for him. He forgets that he's not as tall or as strong as he usually is, and he keeps having to use more force than usual to do things.

Ian:

He's spending the whole day in front of the mirror. Mostly touching your body, feeling every inch of it. Half in a horny way and half in a deeply smitten way. He's also admiring the way you/he looks! He's not really sure why it's so appealing, but he likes this new him!

He doesn't want to fuck anything up for you, so he's too scared to do anything else. And he's terrified you'll find out what he did with your body, so he tries to make sure there's no signs when you swap back.

Shaun:

Look, Shaun's not gonna be normal about this. None of them are. But, getting weird with it isn't his first impulse. No, first he's frantically looking for a paper and pen to write this down because holy fuck would this make for a cool horror movie concept!

Then he's seeking you out, presumably in his body, to ask if you wanna fuck like this. Because, come on, how many chances do you two have to see what sex is like from the other's perspective?

Nick:

He'd be crazy to pass up the opportunity to learn more about your body! He wants to know everything. Sexually, of course. But also what things look like through your eyes, how things taste on your tongue, what things sound like to your ears. Just everything!

He's another one who looks for you. He wants to see what he looks like and sounds like to you. He wants to know how it feels for you to hug him and be held and kissed by him. It feels so... intimate.

Joseph:

He's terrified. Not because he's not in his own body, but because he's so worried you'll get upset if he does anything at all. So for a while he just stares at himself in the mirror, stock still, waiting to turn back into himself. It takes a while to resign himself to being you for a bit.

Once he's less nervous, he'll try to find you as soon as he can. He wants you to guide him, tell him how to be you, what you want him to do. And... maybe... get permission to touch himself in your body...?

Jean:

The absolute first thing he's doing is figuring out what makes your body feel good. And what makes it feel bad. He wants to know the exact things that'll make you melt for him, and the best punishments for when you're out of line. He considers it research.

Then he wants to find you and keep an eye on you. He can't just let you run around in his body, can he? No, that wouldn't do. He'll find ways to distract you, keep you inside and doing what he wants!

Rory:

He's gonna spend a nice, lazy morning in bed just touching himself. Honestly, he didn't even notice the swap at first, this is just what he does every morning. But once he realises it's your body and your hands... well, that's not gonna stop him! It feels good, regardless.

After a good number of orgasms, he'll wander off to look for you. He likes the look of you in his body, and honestly if you're up for it, he's down to have some weird kinky sex in each others' bodies!

Barry:

Weirdly enough, sex isn't the first thing he goes to. No, he puts on his best impression of you and goes around trying to find out information he can use to blackmail you later. He's not sure what he's going to find, but he's ready to get as much dirt on you as possible.

And then once he's gotten it, he'll sit back and enjoy knowing he has you in the palm of his hand. That's when he finally lets himself indulge in your body. He makes sure you ache when you swap back.

Bo:

Listen, he needs a moment. Not having ears and a tail is a pretty big adjustment. Not to mention how bad your sense of smell is. And your eyesight? Everything is so crisp and sharp. It's weird and uncomfortable, getting used to these new senses and everything...

But once he's sort of settled into it a little, he's just excited to have full control over your body! He's touching himself, getting to know every inch of you, trying to figure out all the things your body can do~

[staarri]

𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨 — 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡.

c.  scaramouche

character(s) are friends with reader, gn!reader, angsty-ish, scaramouche is still in the fatui, this is a work of fiction

      fluff     ,    love letter     .      word count : roughly 0.9k

t. @aventurne @tragedy-of-commons @yvnaology @nyoomiin

Scaramouche is not an easy man to love. He’s busy, constantly busy, awake even during the most ungodly hours of the night and constantly rubbing at his eyes from his exhaustion. It’s no surprise the Fatui are overworking him again. What’s funny is that he’s sitting at his desk, a pile of papers on the right side–all reports from his underlings–were unnoticed; all of it, even the chirping of the birds as the sun rose and showed the start of a new day, Scaramouche was stuck on a piece of paper in front of him with the words that reads, To my dearest.

There's no way he can capture your beauty on a cheap piece of parchment . He should’ve bought something expensive instead, like a new set of clothes he thinks you’ll like. But lately you’ve just seemed so distant. He needs to reach you somehow. You’ve been driven away by the lies his mouth spills and now, he’s suffering with the consequences, and not once will he ever say it to you, but he needs you to stick with him while he tries to better himself.

So here he is: a fountain pen in hand, wasting his time with something so.. childish. Who writes letters anyway, isn't it something you did as a child towards someone you liked? 

Call him a child then. Call him old-fashioned, traditional, and in love. Call him whatever you like, because in the end he’s yours, and he’s always been. 

He’s let his thoughts linger for too long and suddenly it's 7 am. His eyebags have never been worse and his mind is tired, not from his job, but from this stupid letter he’s made no progress on. To my dearest should be good enough, right? I mean, you were easy to please. He was sure that it would be more than enough for you. 

How tiring. He says, mindlessly scribbling on the paper, jet-black ink scattered all throughout and splattering around the words. Was he angry? Not at all. Frustrated, yes, but for a good reason–to think he did this just because you two were friends was infuriating. Shouldn’t you two be something more?

You were pretty, far too pretty for him to describe. Scaramouche thought his vocabulary was wide enough, but this letter alone has him searching for the words he once knew. Your eyes, leaving him feeling small in a never ending forest and your smile–god, your smile was intoxicating. It would give light to the things he’s been hiding from you this entire time. Your laugh–your voice, sweet and soft, loud and oh-so clear. How you’d bring it down to a whisper when you feel embarrassed about admitting something, how your nose scrunches up when you laugh or when your smile lines just seem so fitting for someone like you.

What was so special about you? 

You were like the sunset on the beaches, glowing. Absolutely stunning, ethereal, lighting everything in a bright orange, his eyes becoming a mix of brown and a dark blue. He’s different around you, he's a completely different person. From the color of his eyes to the racing of his heart, to the feeling that he wasn’t getting enough air whenever you hold his hand–but you’d do it in a friendly way. You don't squeeze his hand too tight, you let go when necessary and don’t leave any kind of touch lingering for far too long.

Scaramouche is not an easy man to love. He’s bad with words and he can’t tell you the things you want to hear;he can’t provide you with the touch you crave, he can’t make up his mind. One moment he’s thinking about just giving you a whole bag of mora for you to use for your next trip, the other he’s thinking about finishing this damn letter that has plagued his mind ever since you first whispered the fact you appreciate him.

There’s no way he can treat you right. There’s absolutely no way he will be perfect, that he’ll be the partner that’ll leave such a mark on you. But god, ask for the world and he will give it to you. Name one thing and when you wake up it's right at your nightstand. Choose the ring and its design, he’ll get a matching one that you yourself decided on as well. Just say the word because he is a child in love.

So here he is, an envelope in hand. Going to the nearest flower shop to buy something that will still wilt under the sun after a few days. He will not love, and can’t love the same way as you, but he will learn how to. 

Call him stupid;call him an idiot for falling for someone he knows is way too out of his league. But that’s all he is, and it's far too late to change that. He might lose you at some point, and that's really what scares him the most. 

Suddenly he’s standing at your doorstep, ringing the doorbell and you’d be confused who in the world decided to bring you a sunflower and a piece of envelope in the middle of the day–you don't recall ordering anything. 

He didn’t even get to sign it.  Maybe next time he can get it right… for his dearest.

characters belong to their respective companies. everything is written by staarri - do not steal, reupload, translate, modify or feed my work to ai.

[hotchs-bitch]

The List || A. Hotchner x Fem!Reader

summary: you and Aaron check off a few new boxes.

kinks: D/s, daddy kink, threesome, mistress kink, praise kink, degradation, thigh riding

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader, emily prentiss x reader

content/warnings: in case it wasn’t clear SMUT 18+ CONTENT MINORS DNI

wordcount: 3.5k

You’ve been dating Aaron for a few years now, so you like to think you’re something of an expert on all things Hotchner. There are plenty of people, your coworkers included, who think he’s all work and no play. That simply isn’t true. At work, yes, he’s a stark professional, to his core. But they don’t see him at home, playing with his son and basking in the domestic glow the three of you have created in your little apartment. And they certainly don’t see the type of play the two of you get up to, either. 

One of the tenets of Aaron’s work/play separation was that work stayed in the office. He had a home office, for when he needed it, but even there– nothing BAU-related got past the threshold. When he was home, he was home for you and for his son— work would wait as long as it reasonably could. So when you see him flipping through some paperwork in bed, you’re admittedly confused. 

“Whatcha doing?” You ask, pure curiosity in your tone. 

“I was just looking over the list. It’s been a while since we did these, I thought it might be worth taking another peek at,” he explains, looking at you over the readers you had bought for him a year ago, that he valiantly resisted for three months before finally admitting that they helped. 

He’s talking about your kink lists, which explains why he’s made it out of the office. Just shy of a year into your relationship, you’d broached the subject of introducing a dynamic into your sex lives, just to see if you liked it. Aaron had agreed, but insisted on doing his own, extensive research beforehand. He, admittedly, was wary about the idea of hurting you– even in a consensual way— and wanted to make sure he was fully prepared, both for him and for you. So he’d presented both of you with lists— you checked off things you knew you liked, things you thought you might want to try, and things you definitely didn’t want to do. 

“Why don’t you check yours, too,” he says, passing you your copy of the list. “Make sure it all still looks accurate. We’ve tried a lot of this stuff, so if you don’t actually like it—”

“Aaron, you know I’d tell you if I didn’t. I’d safeword if I needed to, or I’d tell you after the scene if I didn’t. You wouldn’t hurt me and I wouldn’t let you,” you remind him. 

“I’d still like you to look. Maybe things we haven’t tried that sounded appealing then, don’t now. Or maybe you’ve found that you like things more than you thought you would. It’s all good to know,” he encourages you.

You agree, climbing into bed and taking the paper and pen that he’d offered. You move some maybes that you had tried into the solid yes column, and a couple into the no column, too, but there aren’t any major changes. After a few minutes, you switch, and you find Aaron’s form to be more or less the same. You’re not surprised, really— You and Aaron have an open line of communication. There were no surprises. 

“So, I was thinking I might surprise you,” Aaron pipes up. You stand corrected. 

“Oh?” You say. 

“You’ve been working your ass off lately, between the team and the Academy Trainee course Strauss pulled you for,” he explains. “I wanted to do something fun for you. I noticed you still had ‘experience with two or more partners’ and ‘experience with a same-sex partner’ checked off as things you’d like to try…” he trails off nervously, and you can tell just by looking at him that he’s wondering if he should beg the floor to swallow him whole rather than continue this conversation. 

“That would be a very special gift,” you agree with a smile, putting him out of his misery. “But who? I don’t necessarily want to bring a stranger into the apartment,” you say. 

“You can say no, and we can never talk about it again,” he assures you. “But I was thinking… maybe Emily?” 

You mull it over for a moment, taking Aaron’s hand in your own to let him know that you’re thinking, not shocked into silence. You… kind of like the idea of it. “Have you talked to her about it at all?”

“Not about joining us,” he says, and his phrasing is specific. You know him too well for that. 

“But you’ve talked to her about… our dynamic?” You ask, confused. It’s not your real question— you know he’d never tell someone else about this without asking you, first. 

“No, no,” he corrects. “That case a few months back, where the men were all bound— she floated the idea privately with me that the unsub may be a dominatrix, and it came up naturally, that she’s… similarly minded.” 

“But with less murder,” you joke. 

“Like I said, we can pretend I never even brought it up.” 

“No!” You correct a little too quickly, making Aaron chuckle. “I want to. You can ask her about it.” 

“I will,” he says, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Anything for you.” 

+++++++

Emily says yes the next day when Hotch asks her about it. It’s the waiting that’s torture. It’s two whole weeks before the three of you find a day that works for everyone– and if you thought that was bad, the hours leading up to it were even worse. 

You’re on edge the whole day— you’re nervous, yes, but it’s an excited kind of nervous, like the moments after you pull the safety harness down on a roller coaster. You plod around the house all afternoon, tidying things that don’t need to be tidied and wiping down the countertops, mopping the floor, baking a banana bread just to do something with your hands. 

You nearly jump when Aaron wraps his arms around you from behind. “Go take a bath and ground yourself, my love. Use your fancy bubbles and take some deep breaths. I left you something to wear, it’s hanging up on the back of the bathroom door. Emily will be here in a bit. Would you like to sit with us while I explain your limits to her, or do you want me to do it?” 

“You can do it,” you tell him softly. 

“Okay angel. Then you go on up, take your bath and put on the pretty outfit Daddy got you, and sit at the foot of the bed and wait for us, okay?” 

“Okay, daddy. Thank you.” 

He smiles, giving you a quick kiss. “Nothing to thank me for. See you in a little bit.” 

You go upstairs and see that Aaron has already drawn the bath for you, and has set out your favorite soaps and bubble bath and a fluffy, warm towel. You sink into the warm bath, and let yourself soak, focusing on your breathing. It helps. Once you feel ready, you drain the tub and look over to the lingerie Aaron had bought for you. It’s a lacy red bodysuit, and it’s crotchless. You get yourself good and dry before slipping into it, not wanting the delicate material to get caught on your wet skin. Once you’re dressed, you go into the bedroom and kneel at the foot of the bed the way you normally would if you were playing with just Aaron. You can hear the two of them talking, laughing, even, as you sit and wait for them. 

Your anticipation builds the longer you listen to them– are they still talking about limits? Are they plotting– deciding what toys they’ll use, how they’ll tease you, when they’ll let you come? You can feel yourself getting turned on the longer you sit and think about it— you wonder if that’s part of their plan, too. 

You snap back to attention when you hear footsteps coming up the staircase, straightening your spine and turning your gaze towards the floor. 

The door swings open— you don’t move. You know better. 

“Aw, she’s so cute,” Emily cooes. You feel warmth rise to your cheeks, try to bite down on your smile. 

“Kitten, why don’t you say hello to our guest?” 

You look up now, at Aaron. “What should I call her, Daddy?”

Aaron looks to Emily, who answers. “You have such good manners, sweet girl. You can call me Mistress.” 

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you for coming,” you tell her with a smile. Looking her in the eyes for the first time makes this feel a hundred times more real, and you can tell that when they finally touch you, you’ll be soaked. 

“Thank you for inviting me,” she smiles. “I understand that you and your daddy have a lot of fun together. I’m excited to have some fun with you, too.”

“Come here, kitten,” Aaron beckons, and you oblige him, crawling a few paces across the carpet and coming to sit next to his left hand. He runs a hand through your hair.

“Ladies first,” Aaron smirks, looking over to Emily.

Emily crouches down, nearly eye-to-eye with you, but she’s still a bit taller. She traces a finger down your cheekbone and the column of your neck, over your shoulder, sneering a little at the goosebumps that appear in the wake of her gentle touch. She pinches your nipple through the fabric of your lingerie, and you gasp a little, not expecting the sensation. 

“Hmm,” Emily murmurs a contented little noise at your reaction, not letting up on her grip. “A good pinch, or a bad pinch?” She checks in. 

“A good pinch, Mistress,” you assure her through gritted teeth. 

She smiles. “Good,” she says, reaching for the other nipple, rolling it between her thumb and index finger. She gives them both a sharp pull, causing you to cry out, before she stands back up. 

“That’s it?’Aaron scoffs. 

“We have the whole night ahead of us,” Emily reminds him. “I’d take advantage while I’m still in a sharing mood.”

He rolls his eyes goodnaturedly, pulling you to your feet. “The thing about my sweet little slut, is that you don’t even need to touch anything significant to turn her into a mess,” he informs Emily as he uses his big hands to spread your thighs apart. You suddenly remember that your panties are crotchless, and tense up, worried that you’ll drip on the carpet before you’ve even begun. For his part, Aaron seems determined to make this happen— he kisses his way up your thighs, sucking at the tender flesh nearest where you were practically pulsing for him, but intentionally ignoring any action that would provide you with any relief. You take in a sharp little breath, trying not to whine. 

“That’s it. I can smell you, already. You like that, don’t you, angel?” He whispers against your skin. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you answer breathlessly. 

“I know, I know,” he says sympathetically as he rises to his feet. “But not yet,” he whispers before sucking a bruise into your neck. 

“Let’s move this party over to the bed, shall we?” Emily says, crossing the room and sitting on the edge of the mattress, stripping herself of her pants and her top. Aaron follows suit, losing all of his clothes and climbing on top of the mattress, giving his cock a few cursory strokes, spreading out the precum that had gathered at his tip. Emily gestures to her thigh, and you straddle it accordingly. 

“Why don’t you tell me more about your daddy, angel?” Emily encourages you as her fingers sink into the flesh of your thigh and pull, encouraging you to rock against her. 

You oblige, riding her thigh as you speak. “I love my daddy. He takes very good care of me,” you say as you rock against her once, readjusting to try and find a better angle for your clit. “He reminds me to drink water and take care of myself,” you continue rocking and find the place where your clit rubs up against her thigh in just the right way, moaning a little. “And he always reminds me that I’m his good little slut. He loves to make me cum,” you say, your humping gaining intensity, causing you to moan a little “Oh, and I love to make him come too,” you say, chasing your release against her. 

“How do you like to make Daddy come?’ Emily asks, pushing your hair out of your face where it’s sticking to your sweat. 

“I like to take his cock in my mouth,” you moan. “I like feeling him all the way down my throat. Oh, Mistress, may I come?” You ask as your rocking against her grows more frantic.

‘Not yet, baby. It’s too early,” she cooes. “Keep going. I heard Daddy call you a name earlier, do you like that? Do you like when we call you pathetic little names?” 

“Yes, Mistress. I like to be called a needy little whore, or Daddy’s desperate slut.” You cry out.

“Oh, you are a desperate slut, aren’t you? Trying to come on Mistress’s thigh,” 

“Yes, yes, I’m a desperate slut,” you agree, hoping your acquiescence will earn you an orgasm. 

“Good girl. Stop,” she orders, and you hold back your sigh, not wanting to be punished. You step away from her, get back into your kneeling position on the floor. From your new vantage point, you can see Aaron– he’s been stroking his cock, watching you and Emily. He’s erect and slick, and you’ve never wanted him in your mouth more. You’re practically drooling. 

“Kitten, you’ve made quite the mess of my thigh,” Emily tuts. 

“I’m sorry Mistress. May I clean up my mess?” 

“Of course, go ahead,” She grants you permission, and you begin to lick your own arousal off of her. Her skin is so soft, and she smells so nice, that you start to get lost in it, mouthing at her long after is necessary, until you feel a tug at your scalp. 

“Don’t get distracted, kitten. Daddy’s waiting for you,” Emily reminds you, gesturing to the other side of the bed. You crawl over, looking at Aaron with glassy eyes. 

“Daddy, may I suck your cock, please?” 

“Hmm, let’s see,” Aaron says, extending two fingers, which you greedily pull into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down on them and taking them as deep as you can manage for a few moments until Aaron pulls them away. 

“Come on up, angel,” Aaron says, pulling you into bed. “Go ahead,” he grants you permission, and you settle between his legs, licking the underside of his cock and looking up at him as you do so.

As soon as you have as much of Aaron as you can take in your mouth, you feel two fingers sink inside of you– Emily’s, you realize with a moan. 

“Thank you, mistress,” you warble out without removing Aaron’s cock from your mouth. 

“Focus angel. Mistress had her turn, now Daddy wants you all to himself. Don’t get distracted.” 

“Yes, daddy,” you answer, refocusing your efforts on him, Even as Emily makes you squirm and whimper under her touch.

“Your pussy is so tight, sweet girl. Does Mistress make you feel good?” 

“Yes, mistress, feels so good,” you answer, but as soon as you do, you feel a sharp spank to your backside. 

“Focus, slut. Don’t make me remind you again,” Aaron says. 

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you say, taking him in your mouth again. 

You’re content for a few moments, but when Emily removes her fingers from inside of you, you can’t help but whine. 

“I’m feeling neglected, here. Kitten, why don’t you lay back against the pillows,” Emily encourages, and you look up at Aaron for permission, which he grants with a simple nod, getting up and taking one of his pillows with him. 

“Lift your hips,” He tells you as Emily comes to the head of the bed. 

Aaron slides a pillow underneath you just as Emily comes to straddle your face. “Mistress and Daddy want to come, angel, and then you can, okay?” Emily explains. 

“Yes, Mistress,” you say, craning your neck up to kiss her entrance. 

“Good girl, go ahead,” she tells you, lowering herself down towards you. You mouth at her with purpose, trying to remember all of the tricks you like best when Aaron does them on you, paying attention to which maneuvers make her tense up and cry out. 

A few moments later, you feel Aaron’s cock sink into you, and your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head– you feel so deliciously full, not to mention how thoroughly fucked you had been throughout the evening. You felt… saturated, in the best way. Each one of your senses was laser-focused on pleasure. You were so grateful to Aaron for doing this for you– the thought motivated you, had you kicking it into high gear with Emily. 

“Oh, good girl. You’re going to make Mistress come. You’re going to make me so happy. Don’t stop, angel. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t— fuck!” She cries out as she reaches her peak, her pleasure overwhelming you. 

“Good girl. You did such a good job, you made mistress so happy,” Emily cooes breathlessly as she gets off of you, not wanting to suffocate you when she collapses against the mattress to catch her breath. She leans in, starts to kiss your neck. “Where’d you learn to do that, sweet girl? Is my perfect angel a little slut?” she asks, mouthing at any exposed skin she can reach. 

“Yes, Mistress, I’m a little slut,” you agree. 

“Who’s slut?” Aaron booms as he pounds into you. 

“Your slut, Daddy. I’m your slut,” you amend.

“That’s right, kitten. Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You, daddy, my slutty pussy belongs to you!” You cry out as he taps your clit, and it sends him over the edge. He keeps pumping in and out of you as he comes, and Emily reaches down to your clit, rubbing at it. 

“Go ahead, come. You earned it, baby, come.” 

“Daddy?” You cry out, wanting to make sure you have permission. 

“Yes, angel. Come for Daddy, my perfect girl. You did so good.” 

You careen over the edge at his praise, arching your back and letting out a moan that turns into a cry. You’d been on edge for so long— before Emily had even arrived today, and it made the relief that much more gratifying. 

“Thank you,” you pant out as you come back down to Earth. 

“Give her a minute to settle,” Aaron warns Emily– the two of you had learned that rushing into aftercare could be a little overwhelming, so Aaron usually gave you a moment to catch your breath before he touched you. 

“You did such a good job, my sweet girl. I’m so proud of you,” Aaron whispers gently. “When you’re ready, I want you to sit up for me, okay my love?” 

You nod a little, taking another few deep breaths and scooting up towards the mattress. 

“Good,” he whispers. “I will be right back,” he says, climbing off the mattress and leaving the room momentarily. 

“Did you have fun?” Emily asks quietly, screwing the cap off of a bottle of water and handing it to you. 

You gulp at it aggressively while you nod. “Yeah, I did. Did you?” 

“Careful, you’ll get a stomachache,” she warns. “I had fun, but this was a treat for you.” 

“Still. It’s only fun if everyone’s having fun,” you remind her. “Would you… want to do it again sometime?” She asks, feeling bold. 

“Yeah. You should talk to Aaron first, though,” Emily says. 

“Talk to Aaron about what?” He comes back to the room with a plate of fruit and a damp washcloth, sounding concerned. 

“Nothing, baby. Later,” you assure him, and he gives you a little look that lets you know that he’s holding you to it. 

“Alright, angel. You need to eat something, and I need to clean you up,” he says, handing you the plate and bringing the washcloth between your thighs. You extend the plate towards Emily, and she takes a strawberry, popping it between her lips as you bite down into a crunchy apple slice. 

“Em, you should feel free to stay, if—” Aaron starts, but she cuts him off. 

“I’d love to, but I can’t. Sergio is a very lonely boy,” she explains. “But this was a lot of fun. Thank you both for inviting me,” she says, kissing you both on the forehead as she dresses and packs up her stuff. Aaron insists on walking her to the door and watching her get into her car, as if she didn’t have a handgun in her purse and enough combat training to take out half of Northern Virginia. You’re snuggled up against his pillow when he returns, and he smiles. 

“You had fun, angel?” He asks as he climbs into bed, pulling you into his chest. 

“Of course I did. This whole thing just begs the question…” you start, trailing off. 

“Begs what question?” Aaron asks. 

“Who are we going to invite over to check off those boxes for you?” 

[figgrrr0]

Hii im new here! Found your blog by chance and I love how you write! Would you be able to write wanderer x jealous!reader on valentines day? Lets say Wanderer has got a lot of admirers from the akademiya and reader is just silently furious abt it but doesnt say anything. When Wanderer finds out he fucks them nicely and praise them/ reassures them <333

Apparently I struggle to do angry jealousy, I just make it sad... but it's light this time! And soft.

Also it feels so weird writing Wanderer as a name??

Want to skip the lead up? Look for the NSFW sign that marks the smut!

Valentine's with Wanderer

Character: Top!Wanderer/Scaramouche

Reader: Bottom!Gn // Genre: Smut, angst

Cw: Classic Scara misunderstandings, praise/reassurance, fingering, soft sex, slight angst(?) it's more hinted I guess

Plot: A little // Word count: 1.9k

Valentine's Day: a day of love, gifts, and showing appreciation for your partner.

Usually, everyone tries to take the day off, freeing up their schedule so that they can focus entirely on the occasion, however it may be that they want to spend it. Which is why you were quite surprised to find yourself alone in bed when you woke up in the morning.

Now, that's not when you started feeling doubt. After all, maybe Wanderer, your boyfriend of the past few months, was in the kitchen. Breakfast in bed is a traditional start to Valentine's Day, and an easy way to get in anyone's good books. But, when you heard nothing after a few minutes of waiting, – no clanking of cutlery or slamming of cabinets – you just had to go see where he was.

Unluckily for you, all you could find was a little note, hastily sprawled and left waiting on the counter:

"I'll be gone for a while, don't wait up for me. I left you some breakfast in the cupboard, it might need heating up if you stay in bed too long, but that's not my fault...

–Happy Valentine's Day."

As usual, his handwriting is kind of hard to read; quick and messy. But, at least he did technically make you breakfast, even if he also alluded to you being lazy.

However, what most takes your attention, is the blotch of ink that splattered right at the end of "fault". It was as if he were hesitating to let go, to pick up the pen and leave it at that.

Which is why you felt oddly warm at the fact that the last part was perfectly legible and obviously had been written slower than the rest.

Even though you know Wanderer isn't particularly fond of outright expressing his feelings, you thought that surely, today of all days, he could push aside his own pride for you. Even just a little. Maybe that was too high of an expectation. His ambitions never let him take a break, so why would he take one for a made-up holiday?

Well... at least he's aware enough of your excitement for the day to acknowledge it first thing in the morning, even if he wasn't there to actually say it.

But, you knew that with Wanderer, everything would be awkward and touchy the first time around. You had to move slowly. Baby steps, you remind yourself, as you head back to your shared room to start getting ready.

It's only the start of the day.

...

You wish it weren't Valentine's Day.

Every street was lined with couples, each and every one of them holding hands, carrying flowers... things that you should be doing with your boyfriend right now.

And it didn't help that you felt like everyone was judging you for being alone, especially when most of them likely knew who you were dating. It's not like you hadn't seen them staring before now.

You couldn't blame them, really. Wanderer had shown up in Sumeru suddenly and didn't feel especially inclined to explain himself, so of course people would be curious. You just didn't like the way that their eyes would... linger after him. Even when you were there! And on the rare day that Wanderer was comfortable enough to let you hold onto him in public, the admiring stares turned to full-blown jealousy.

Now, what was wrong with that? Shouldn't that be an ego boost for you? You'd thought so too, at first. But then you realised that just meant they'd want to try and steal him from you.

You thought you could put up with it at first. After all, you knew that Wanderer wouldn't stand for anyone else touching him or getting in his way other than you. You trusted him just fine. You didn't trust the average Akademiya goer, though. They all seemed to think they were entitled to have whatever – or whoever – they wanted, just because they'd gotten into the prestigious school at all.

You'd tried to bring up your concerns to Wanderer about the whispers going around and the jealous looks you'd get when walking through the streets or halls of the Akademiya. Almost instantaneously, he shut down your complaints, finding the words so easily that it almost felt as though he hadn't even tried.

"Tch... they're annoying and only want to waste our time. Just ignore them like I do."

That response was actually exactly what you'd expected to hear, and while you were grateful for his straightforward answer, you'd wanted a more... passionate outcome. Something to show he cared.

That definitely isn't what you got, considering he didn't even look at you when he said it.

After that, you didn't want to bring up the same problem again. Especially not on Valentines Day, even though he'll probably come home having been confessed to over twenty times in the past hour alone. Okay, maybe you were over-exaggerating a little, but it really didn't feel like it to you. Plus, it's the day of love! You're allowed a little leeway for feeling paranoid, right?

Maybe this evening will be better, when Wanderer finally comes come.

...

As you walk through the door, you're instantly met with a faint smell that you recognised to be the lavender lemongrass scented candles that you kept around the house. Of course, this clued you in to the fact that Wanderer must already be home. But what solidified this, was that when you walked through the doorway, there he was, waiting for you standing next to a vase of beautifully arranged flowers. It was mainly made up of your favourite flower, along with some of the famous Valentine's flowers as well, such as roses, carnations, and even some daisies.

Most likely, it was thought up by the florist that he went to. But at least he knew your favourite flower, as well as followed the tradition of buying them for you at all.

Often times, it was unusual for him to initiate physical touch with you; even though he was comfortable with you, he still just wasn't used to it yet. Tonight, however, he seemed to have no trouble in walking right up to you, taking your hand to guide you into the living room, where you could both just relax in each other's company. The calming lavender lemongrass candles eased your mood quite well, and you were happy that your Wanderer had really tried for Valentine's day.

...

You had a lovely evening with your boyfriend, cuddling on the couch as you spoke in hushed voices about anything and everything (even if he was slightly apprehensive to start), the lovely atmosphere of romantic music quietly flooding through from the street.

And even though it had felt perfect, as you get ready to retire for the night, the candles having gone out a while ago, you can't help but feel the uncertainty from before start to overtake your thoughts again.

Resigning yourself to forget about it, you get into your side of the bed, your Wanderer already having been waiting for you to return. But he can tell that something in your mood has changed almost as soon as he lays his eyes on you again.

"What's wrong?"

"... Nothing."

He leans forward, showing his engagement. "Bullshit. If you don't tell me, there's nothing I can do to help you get over it."

"I just... those people from the Akademiya... they're still bothering me." You look down at your hands.

He sighs, closing his eyes for a second, "I've told you to just ignore them. There's nothing I can do to control how people think of you, or me, or us."

"I can't just ignore them!" You whine, "They're always looking at us when we're together... it's making me worried..."

At that, he looks over at you, his eyes scrunching as he thinks your words over. "Worried about what?"

Not sure how to say it, you move yourself to lay against him. Your back is pressed to his chest now, and the feeling of his warm breath on your neck helps to soothe your thoughts just enough for you to find the words:

"...I don't want them to take you from me..."

Now, it's Wanderer's turn to be silent. Now, he realises the mistake he'd made in telling you to just ignore those insignificant people; by ignoring the problem himself, he'd made you focus on it more. Of course you'd be feeling worried about this, he'd shut it down the first time you'd tried bringing it up.

You didn't need to just forget about it. You needed to work through it so that you could forget about it.

After almost a minute of tense silence, you're surprised when you feel his lips press gently to the back of your neck, accompanied moments later by his arm curling around you, pulling you ever closer against him. His hand rests over the place where your heart rests, while the other intertwines your fingers with his against your stomach, as if caging in the butterflies that start to flutter.

"Allow me to try again..." He presses a kiss to your ear before speaking again, "you don't need to think about them, or what I think about them." The hand on your heart shifts to cup your chest, your breath wavering when his hand brushes over your hardening nipples. "Because I'll never want anyone but you."

Then, the night is almost a blur.

Wanderer sneakily pulls a bottle of rose scented lube from under the pillow, liberally gathering some as he starts to stretch you out on his fingers. The scent slowly fills the room, intoxicating you on the heady fragrance, allowing it to pull you deeper into the moment.

He steadily pushes his fingers against the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you, never slowing until after you've cum around his lubed up digits. Your hand finds purchase with the one on your chest, tightening your grip around him as you come down from the residual high.

He's whispering short encouragements to you while you collect your breath, the moans you'd been letting out dying on your tongue. Wanderer slowly lifts your leg, allowing him to guide his hard cock to finally, finally press against your hole, not making you wait to feel him as the slowly pushes in.

You don't need to adjust much, the lube and his attentive fingers having done the work well enough that only the comforting sensation of being full registers in your core. He starts thrusting when you signal that you're ready, his pace is easy and the power behind his hips is controlled enough to pull a soft moan from you with each stroke. It's different from what you're used to, but it's good. So good. And what makes it better is the hushed and stuttered, "I love you," and, "You're the only one that matters," that gets breathed into your shoulder as you both approach your shared climax.

The next morning, you wake up to find your Wanderer exactly where he ended last night; right next to you in your bed. You close your eyes contentedly, knowing you'll never have to worry about him being taken from you.

He's your Wanderer.

Want to send a request/brainrot with me? Check my rules!

Thank you for reading! 🩷

[teacheesee]

pierced (zoro x reader)

zoro gives you your third ear piercings

mention of needles, no other warnings, fluff ⭐️

“I’ll only hurt if you aren’t nervous, and by the looks of you, you won’t feel a thing,” Zoro stated, muttering the last bit under his breath.

“I’m only nervous because it's you and we’re not someplace professional,” you replied.

“Don’t be such a baby, I’ve done all three of mine myself and they turned out perfectly fine.” He wet a cloth with some rubbing alcohol and pressed it to your ear, the coolness making you pull in a sharp breath.

If it was just your first or even second ear piercings, you might not have been so nervous, but the third one up was a little daunting, but you trusted Zoro, so it would probably be fine. After cleaning your ears, he handed you a pen and a hand mirror and gave you time to choose where the piercing should go.

He watched as your tongue peaked out as you focused on your ears, admiring the vision in his head of you wearing more jewelry to frame your features. You turned back to him after giving the dots you drew a once over.

“What are you smiling about,” you asked. His ears turned red as he turned away, back to where the needle and earrings sat.

“Nothing, hurry up, you’re taking forever.” You smiled and set the mirror down. He started showing you what he was gonna use. Ice, for numbing, a needle that looked way too big in your opinion, and an eraser.

“What’s the eraser for?”

“For the needle when it goes though.” He brought the stud over, handing it to you while he situated the needle and held it near your ear.

“I’m gonna count to three, and while I do that, take a really deep breath for me, okay?” His eyes met yours and you tried to slow your nervous heartbeat down. It was gonna be okay, it was Zoro after all. Without the thought of the impending piercing, the heat of his hand pressing against your cheek and his face so close to yours would’ve been distraction enough.

“Okay, ready?” he asked. You tucked your hair behind your ears and prepared for the sting. “Yeah.”

“One,” you began to breathe in as he continued,“two--”

“You jerk!” you winced as he pierced you before the count was over, handing him the stud. He quickly put it in your ear.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” he chuckled, handing you the other stud.

“It wasn’t but only because you caught me off guard with that ‘one, two, three’ shit.” He laughed at your mock frustration.

“At least you know I can’t pull the same stunt twice, you’d be prepared for it,” he leaned to line the needle up.

“Whatever, let’s get this one over with.”

“So bossy,” he muttered, rolling his eyes, “I’m gonna count to three again, you ready?” You nodded and took a deep breath.

“One, two,” your face contorted in anticipation, but before he reached the final count, you felt a swift kiss pressed onto the corner of your mouth. Before you could react, he pushed the needle through and tacked onto the eraser. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips as he carefully set your earring in.

“You play dirty!” A smile crossed his face as he started wiping your new piercings with a cleaner.

“I had to give you some kind of distraction, didn’t I, I bet you didn’t even feel a thing.” You smiled and picked up the mirror to admire your new set.

“It looks so good!” You were too busy admiring his handiwork to notice him digging through the supplies he brought.

“I know you’ll have to wait until it heals up,” he fished out a small box from his bag and pressed it into your palm, “but I bought these for you.” He turned away, a little embarrassed at the sentiment. You opened the box, and poured its contents into your hands. He had bought you three earrings to match his own.

“Zoro,” you sighed, “thank you.” You looked at his face, still bashfully turned away, his red ears giving him away like they always do. Bringing your hand up to cup his jaw and turn him to face you, you pushed his cheeks together.

“Now who’s being a baby?”

A/N extremely self indulgent, wrote this the day before i got my third ear piercings. those mfrs hurt so bad but it’s gonna be so worth it to match with zoro. bye! •.*