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lola-writes · 3 months

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Duty Is Sacrifice

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Velaryon/Strong!reader

Word Count: 2,6k

Themes & Warnings: Winterfell, pov. first person, feelings realization, fluff and smut, fingering, orgasm

Summary: Queen Rhaenyra sends you to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. In him you find not only an ally, but something deeper as well…

Song: Skin and Bones (Cinematic) - David Kushner

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The wilderness beyond the Wall sprawled before me atop the outlook, an uncharted immensity dripping with anathema. A frozen wasteland, it held a cold that seemed to seep into your very soul, promising to turn your bones to ice with a single, lingering glance.

The stories from the seasoned rangers down below had painted a vivid picture, but this, this was a masterpiece beyond mere words. The frigid air, a living entity, tore at my dark hair and the borrowed furs – those very furs my stubborn pride had initially dismissed. Now, the only thing missing from mirroring those same hardened rangers was a permanent furrow etched between my brows, a testament to countless nights spent battling the elements.

Their Lord was a wall of warmth which prevented the gnawing chill from consuming me. His massive form broadened at my side, his very presence thawing me. Turning to him, I observed the furrow deepening between his brows as he regarded me, though it wasn’t a testament to the cold, but rather something concerned.

“Winterfell beckons, Princess,” he said, his timber thick with northern accent, “Let us return to warm you.”

His gloved hand, rough yet surprisingly gentle, reached out for me. Relief washed over me as I grasped it, the worn leather a welcome anchor against the treacherous turret steps.

“Blazing fires. Hot stew. How’s that sound?” His stoic expression nearly cracked to the rumble in my stomach. I noticed I was still supported in his grasp well beyond danger, when I felt his thumb tracing reassuring circles on the back of my hand, sending a delicious shiver snaking down my spine.

Gently, I returned it to my side. “That would be most pleasant, thank you my Lord.”

Days had bled into one another at his side, treating, feasting, drinking, strategizing, and though I had no doubt I had fixed him as an ally to my mother’s claim, some other heat beneath the veneer of alliance had begun to simmer in his gaze, a spark that mirrored the disquiet blooming in my own chest.

The iron cage groaned its descent down to Castle Black, echoing through the black shaft like cries of the damned. From the moment I stepped foot in Winterfell, he’d woven a tapestry of comfort. He recalled every detail I mentioned in passing, and behind his every effort to make me feel at home was a gesture conforming to something I’d previously told him I enjoyed – a steaming mug of my favorite herbal tea, a book on a subject I’d once expressed interest in. He was unlike any man I’d encountered. Each word he uttered was a silken caress, so gentle it felt like he feared his own timber could bruise me. But a heavy weight had settled in my chest. My replies had now become clipped, mere whispers that barely escaped my lips. There was so much more at stake now beyond my desires. Duty loomed heavy on my shoulders. I feared any careless words or lingering glances could brittle the alliance with the Starks to pieces.

We mounted our horses and begun our nigh-on two days ride back to Winterfell. Though not as biting as the Wall’s teeth, the wind on the Kingsroad still carried a relentless edge. The only warmth to be found radiated shyly from the small fires Cregan’s bannermen had built, and the thick fur I wove tightly around myself at night.

As the colossal granite form of Winterfell finally clawed its way up from the horizon, a wave of exhaustion crashed into me, settling heavy in my bones. Dismounting was an ordeal. Every muscle in my body throbbed in protest from the days’ ride. My legs, leaden weights, buckled before I could even consider lowering myself.

But before I could hit the ground, strong arms, surprisingly gentle, encircled my waist, and lifted me from the saddle before I could even think to react.

We stood there, my body swaying slightly in his arms, our eyes lingering on each other for a second beyond my comfort. His eyes, normally the clear blue of a summer sky, were now a stormy gray, swirling with unspoken concern. A tremor of something akin to fear danced in my chest, battling the unexpected flutter at his touch.

“Apologies, my Lord,” I stammered, cheeks flushing with a heat that had naught to do with exertion. “Dragon saddle is one thing, but I fear horseback is another entirely.” I smiled apologetically.

Cregan’s fingers lingered on my waist, a gentle caress that singed through my leathers and into my very skin, sending a jolt through me. He withdrew them slowly, and my side ached from their absence.

“Fret not, Princess,” he rumbled, his voice a warm current, “Two days on horseback have felled men twice your size.”

I giggled to his obvious attempt at comforting me. “I wouldn’t bet on that,” I replied, taking trembling steps toward the castle.

Once in my chambers, I collapsed onto the bed; sleep, thick and heavy, stealing the day. When I finally opened my eyes, the only light in the room spilled from the dying embers in the hearth.

A gnawing hunger, cold and insistent, hollowed my gut. With a deep breath, I rose, and dressed in my house colors, the fabric thick with responsibility. Then, I descended the steps in my hunt for scraps.

The massive oak doors of the Great Hall ground open, revealing a cavernous space bathed in the flickering, golden glow of a roaring fire. Laughter and the murmur of rough voices hung in the air. Fur cloaked figures huddled around the immense hearth at the far end, casting dancing shadows on the towering walls. Lord Stark sat amidst his bannermen; tankards raised in boisterous revelry.

The merriment dipped as I entered. Heads swiveled my way, some splitting into knowing grins. The bannermen rose in unison, scattering like startled crows, their boisterousness replaced by a respectful chorus of greetings and a flurry of curt bows.

“My regrets for missing supper,” I said, drawing Cregan’s heavy gaze. His shadowed form, a giant even in the flickering firelight, rose with a quiet grace that belied his imposing physique.

“You need not worry,” he said, ladling steaming stew from a small pot over the fire and offered me the bowl with one hand. A grateful smile lit my face as I accepted it.

“You grow quite comely as a serving girl,” I jested, a flicker of triumph igniting in my chest when his mouth quirked up into a faint smirk, a flicker of warmth dancing in his eyes, a rare concession on his normally stoic face.

I settled onto the bench beside his chair and began devouring the stew, its meat and vegetables soothing the ache in my belly. As I ate, I stole glances at Cregan, his face bathed in the rich firelight, a mask of unreadable emotions.

Regret, sharp and unwelcome, tightened in my chest as I observed him. I had a duty fulfilled, but a heart unsatiated. I had come to Winterfell to remind him of the oath his house swore to my mother, and he had not left me wanton. Yet, the journey back to Dragonstone loomed large in my mind. The prospect of leaving him, perhaps for a very long time, cast a long shadow. Unless he too agreed to join us.

“The Queen’s sworn allies are too few to win a war for the throne,” I declared, my voice tight with the weight of responsibility, “She needs your men.”

His jaw clenched, his stoicism returning like a steel mask. “Cursed be the Hightowers,” he growled, venom lacing his voice. “But winter is coming. War of dragons is never a small ordeal. If the Queen is in need of my men to defeat the usurper, you must allow me to wait out the winter.”

Despair clawed at my throat. Memories and tales of past winters surfaced, stretching on for months, even years. Without the full support of the North, we could be crushed before winter even loosened its icy grip. Perhaps reduced to cinders beneath the wrath of the dragons.

“It will be too late,” I pleaded, the urgency in my voice cracking the carefully constructed façade I had built.

Cregan met my gaze, his eyes a stormy gray. “It’s the best I can do, Princess. I hope you will forgive me.”

A spark of anger ignited within me, battling the tendrils of despair. “You swore an oath, Lord Stark.”

He held my stare, unwavering. “I haven’t forgotten,” he said, “You will have two thousand greybeards that can be ready to march at once.”

“What of you?” My voice trembled, tears welling up before I had the strength to stop them. “What if this is goodbye?”

Understanding suddenly dawned in his eyes, and his brows furrowed in what I thought was despair. He came to sit beside me, the wood groaning under his weight. His large, calloused thumbs painted the tears across my cheeks.

“I assure you, Princess,” he said softly, “This is not goodbye.” His hand came up to grasp my chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting it up to meet his intense gaze. “I swear it,” he vowed, steel threading through his words. Hope surged through me; a lifeline cast into the churning sea of anguish.

Starks do not forget an oath.

“The Hightowers were doomed the second they put the imposter on that throne,” Cregan rumbled, his voice a low caress.

The space between us seemed to have dissolved, his calloused hands engulfing mine in a firm, reassuring grasp. Silence stretched, thick with unspoken emotions, tension dripping like honey. I waited for him to say something else, but he remained still, quiet, his fingers slowly and gently exploring mine, each touch sending sparks of lightning up my arms. I met his gaze, my breathing shallowing as I realized his lips were but a whisper away, his dark eyes shimmering with heat, flickering with an unspoken hunger that seethed beneath my skin with each second.

“Their betrayal…” His voice was barely a whisper, his fingers ceased their dance with mine, and began their path up my arms, “…will not go unpunished,” he said thickly, his hands now grazing my upper arms, up my shoulders, ceasing at the curve of my neck, the movement sending a sizzling sensation through my blood.

With the cold that had plagued me so these last few days, I began to fever. My lips parted as if I was suddenly short of breath, and I felt a curious pulse that drifted between my thighs. My whole body, like to an unseen force, drew closer to him, and he tensed beneath his leathers. His frame vibrated with desperate restraint, the fire in his eyes warring between duty and sacrifice.

“I am a man of honor,” he groaned. My stomach tightened as his hands inched up my neck and traced the line of my jaw, his coarse thumb brushing across my lips.

Something tugged on my stomach from the inside as the fiery heat of his fingers burned through my skin. My breaths came out ragged and shallow while he remained silent, as though he was immersed in concentration.

Without knowing the full implication of my words, I whispered, “Dishonor me.”

For the storm, only just contained, raged wild in his eyes, a low growl sounded from deep in his chest before he crashed his lips to mine.

I received them with a low, beckoning gasp. My palms came up to his neck, my nails running the length of it as he explored my lips, the roof of my mouth, my teeth, and under my tongue. Then his lips traced my jaw, finding my ear, breathed his warm air into it, nibbled my lobe, then covered my throat in wet kisses. I tilted my head to grant him access, as low, sensual mewlings poured from my lips, something carnal infiltrating my veins.

His hands came down to my waist, and I gasped in surprise when he lifted me and placed me in his lap, my legs latching around his back.

He was so big and warm and hard. His eyes were lazy and dark as his fingers began to lightly trace down the side of my neck, then hooking into my dress to bare my shoulder. He kissed it with an open mouth and moving tongue, and I quivered beneath his touch. Then, with a sharp sound of a tear, he had pulled my dress all the way down my abdomen.

He groaned at the sight of me, his lips slightly parted, his hands delicately cupping my breasts as if he’d found treasure. When the cold made me shiver, he leaned into me to lend me his warmth, while his lips tantalized me, drawing close to my hardened nipple, blowing it with hot air, then backing off, kissing across my breastbone to the other, until I forced his mouth to it.

He hummed with throaty satisfaction, latching onto it and giving it one slow suck, grazing the skin with his teeth. I threw my head back with a gasp. White heat shot like lightning between my thighs, before pulsing into an empty ache. I swayed into him, bucking my hips into his groin, feeling him harden beneath me. He suckled my other breast in warm, slow pulses, circling the areola, drawing panting moans out of me, before he found my lips again.

Gathering my skirts, he moved his hands underneath them, gripping the fullness of my thighs, kneading them, squeezing them, to the point it pinched me, and I bit his bottom lip in protest.

Cregan Stark was a gentle giant in all matters but things salacious.

A throaty sigh escaped his lips as his hands found my buttocks, kneading the flesh between his fingers. Hot, slick tingles pooled between my thighs, and my fingers curled in his hair. My body hummed in anticipation as his finger slid downward, a groan pouring out of me as he grazed over my wet opening.

“Oh, Princess.” The words were like magic on his lips, shooting through my core in throbbing pulses.

His other arm snaked around my waist, locking me to his body as he explored and moistened my folds, leaving me a bucking, moaning mess in his lap.

I felt empty and sickly. A fog had infiltrated my vision, my skin, my mind, my inhibitions. I coveted him. I needed him, more than I needed anything else. His eyes alone could touch inside of me, but I could not explain the pulsing, throbbing, delirious effects of his hands, his mouth, his tongue, and I ached for more. I felt unfinished, incomplete.

Until he slid a finger deep inside me, and I gasped. Hot, sweet pressure filled me, and once I adjusted, he introduced another, threatening to overfill as he fingered me.

Fast and then lazy.

Over and over.

The room filled with wet squelching noises and my moaning squeals. His deeper, throatier moans vibrated through his chest and lit me on fire, burning in my lower stomach, blazing, desperate for feed, or I would disintegrate.

My nails dug desperately into his shoulders, as any attempts of filling myself up to completion were in vain by the power of his grip around my waist. He trailed every inch of my neck, kissing it as it if were my mouth, with lips, tongue, and teeth. His fingers penetrated deep and curled inside of me, rubbing something within that sent pressure bursting into tingles and flames, my veins burning up like dragon fire, and stars sparkling behind my eyelids. I cried out with the purest ecstasy as my body shuddered and clenched around his fingers, and he groaned against my skin with dark satisfaction as I clung to him desperately.

Once my trembles ceased and I managed to catch my breath, he took my cheeks in his hand and kissed me fiercely, passionately, his fires still boiling for release.

“I am coming with you,” he declared.

Tag list: @koyaa66648 @longlivemyblues @melsunshine @urdadsfavs @the-great-ladyg @barackosteaa @elysyannemimi @80sstradlin @hgyura @telltale-vixen @nyxbranwenn @tortargaryen @naxal-jlt @flowercrownsandherondales @red-hydra @lanadelray1989 @crumbledcastle28 @midnightcrw @prismaudee @nsr-15

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littlexdeaths · 2 months

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i think they deserve some good ole’ love making, don’t you?

older brother’s best friend eddie x fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: oral (fem receiving), eddie is a pussy drunk lover boy, riding, unprotected piv sex, cream pie and just some over all cuteness… they deserve it <3

it’s a recipe for disaster masterlist.

a/n: big thank you again to the loml @strangerstilinski , also i totally picture time of the season by the zombies playing on the radio during this chapter… enjoy freaks xx.

the sweltering august nights had finally faded into a more tolerable autumn, the leaves beginning to bloom in a array of yellows and reds.

after your disaster of a date at the hawk a few weeks prior, you both agreed to meet exclusively at eddie’s trailer from now on. as it was the one place that was safe from the prying eyes of your brother.

so far anyway.

the cool september breeze that filters through his cracked window offers you some reprieve from the rising temperatures in his bedroom.

his hands are everywhere, gentle and warm as they kept your hips pressed into his mattress. the radio is playing softly in the background, an oldies station that neither of you cared to change.

as the both of you far too preoccupied with the weight of his ribs between your hips.

his tongue continues to lap against your overly sensitive core, already having coaxed two orgasms from you in the last half hour alone. your fingers are buried in his hair, curls mussed from your constant tugging and damp from sweat.

your soft whine of his name has his head lifting, flushed cheek pressing into the meat of your thigh. his pupils are blown out and glassy, your juices that are smeared across his chin shine in the muted light of his bedside lamp. the colorful handkerchief draped over it casts him in a soft pink glow.

and he’s never looked so beautiful to you before.

“c’mere,” you plead.

he’s crawling up your body without another word, lips locking with yours. he kisses you deeply, hips rutting against yours with fervent need. the feeling has you gasping into his mouth, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue.

another pointed roll of his hips has your fingers sliding down his bare chest and lightly pushing against it. eddie pulls back slightly, the worry that fills his features quickly dissolves when he takes in your lustful expression.

“lay back for me, handsome.” your words come out soft, but more desperate than you intended.

and eddie, eager to please as always, just flops down on the mattress beside you. he just gazes up at you, doe-eyes filled with devotion as you place your palm on his chest and move to straddle his waist.

you can feel the flutter of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips, chest rising and falling as you seat yourself on top of him.

you’re both treading in uncharted waters, but the encouraging look in his eyes helps to keep you afloat.

an experimental drag of your hips has him groaning, rough fingers splaying over the tops of your thighs. you can feel him— hard, heavy and straining beneath the fabric of his boxers. the thin layer is the only thing separating your bodies now.

the mixture of your slick and his saliva soaks into the checkered fabric, allowing you to glide your hips more easily against his shaft. the damp material catches against your clit in just the right way, pulling a whiny moan from your throat.

“that’s it,” he mumbles, helping to guide your hips. “take what you need, baby.”

your hands that are resting on his chest suddenly dip lower, the male helping to lift your hips so you can tug his boxers down his thighs. when eddie moves to kick them off the rest of the way, the sudden motion has you tumbling forward and accidentally knocking your heads together.

“whoops,” you breathe as you lean back, cradling your forehead in the palm of your hand. “sorry… you okay?”

your lips jut out in a small pout, suddenly worried that you ruined the moment due to your inherent clumsiness.

he glances up at you before licking his lips, “it’s hard to say…” his brows then quirk up beneath his bangs, a breath blowing past his spit-slick lips.

“but y’know, now that you mention it…”

he draws it out, an over dramatic lilt beginning to bleed into his voice.

“i am starting to feel a bit woozy.” he pauses, before the corner of his mouth turns up in a cheeky grin. “not from a concussion, of course, but having a pretty thing like you on my lap is—”

and quickly shut him up with a kiss, feeling the laugh that rumbles through his chest.

“you’re such a shit head,” you giggle, nipping at his lower lip.

“oh yeah, keep talking to me like that, sweet thing.” he teases, “you know how that gets me going.”

feeling suddenly emboldened you reach between your bodies, grasping his hardened length in your palm. his answering groan only encourages you to grip it fully as you sit back up.

you nudge the reddened tip through your drenched folds, mewling softly when you slowly start to sink down onto his thick length.

“that’s it, slide it in— oh fuuuuck,” he all but whines.

you’re panting by the time you’re fully seated, palms resting on the flat of his stomach. his cock is nestled at your deepest point and you swear you’ve never felt so full in your entire life.

eddie regards you with the utmost tenderness as you raise your hips, nearly letting him slip out of you before you’re guiding them back down with a small gasp. your pace is slow but steady, gradually taking him even deeper with each subtle rock of your hips.

your head falls back, eyes fluttering shut as the tip of his cock nudges against your sweet spot. his hands that were resting on your hips begin to trail up your sides, underneath your shirt to kneed your breasts in his warm palms.

“look at you,” he groans, encapturing you in the warmth of his gaze. “… like a goddamn dream, baby.”

you’re far too engulfed in your own pleasure to register anything he’s saying. besides the lewd whimpers that continue to spill past his lips with each rise and fall of your hips. the sensation soon becomes overwhelming in the most intimate way possible.

“god, i love you…”

those three little words slips past his lips before he can stop them. so drunk off the feeling of you wrapped around him that he doesn’t realize he’d actually uttered them aloud.

despite the lustful haze that continues to dull your senses, you suddenly hear him loud and clear.

when your hips gradually increase their pace, your fingers wrap around the chain that has fallen into the hollow of his throat. you grip the guitar pick in your fist, coaxing him up until your clothed chest is pressed against his own and his forehead touches yours.

“say it again,” you plead.

his eyes widen as the realization of what he’d just said finally sinks in. but there’s no trace of fear in them when he cups your cheek in his palm.

“i love you, sweetheart.”

your mouths meet in a sudden clash of tongue and teeth, and he swallows each breathy cry that leaves your swollen lips as you meet your end. he allows you to bury your face in the crook of his neck, panting as he chases his own release.

his thighs tremble and he fists the back of your shirt— keeping you pressed against him as he fills you to the brim. only then does he let the exhaustion take over, both of you falling back into the mattress in a heap of entangled limbs.

you both lay like that for a while, letting your breathing slow as the radio continues to fill the comfortable silence.

when you dare a quick glance up at him, your heart thumps even louder in your chest. his eyes are shut, his wild curls fanning out over the pillowcase. he looks so content you would’ve thought he was sleeping, but the subtle quirk of his lips tells you he’s wide awake.

eddie carefully peeks one eye open and you quickly hide your face back into his shoulder. a deep chuckle rumbles in his throat when he catches you staring, but it still makes his heart flutter beneath his ribs.

when you finally muster the courage to speak, your words are muffled, lips pressed into the sweaty skin of his clavicle.

“i love you too.”

series taglist: @nailbatanddungeon @angel-eyes-and-devil-hearts @mugloversonly @eddiemunsonfuxks @munsonhoneybaby @alagalaska @creative1writings @missmarch-99 @stolen-in-moonlight @xxbimbobunnyxx @calumfmu @bastardstevie @prestinalove

let me know if you want to join the taglist for this series!

#the freak writes 🫧#my series: it’s a recipe for disaster 🫧#eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #brothers best friend!eddie munson #brothersbf!eddie munson

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 4 months

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Veni, Vidi, Vici | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: Things finally come to a head following the last of Michael's exams | Word Count: 3.2k~ | Warnings: p in v sex, virginity loss, somewhat tipsy sex

Part One : Quid Pro Quo Part Two : Carpe Diem

A:N: let's just ignore the fact this has been in my drafts since December 😘 And yes, I didn't come the first time either, it happens okkkk. Sorry if this is all over the place, I wrote half of it like four months ago and the other half last week soo

Every single time she saw his username pop up on her computer, an involuntary smile spread across her face, and warmth pooled in her belly with the memory of that evening still fresh in her mind. She isn’t quite sure what she enjoys remembering more, his flushed cheeks and glasses askew or the way he was trying to adjust his cargo trousers to somewhat hide his erection by the end of their second tryst.

After that short interaction though, she was surprised at his restraint, if not a bit impressed. She’d at least managed to avoid the irresistible pull of his company in time to finish the last of her exams. And as for Michael, were it not for the odd text message or the ‘active’ icon next to his username in MSN, she would have thought he dropped off the face of the planet.

Part of her can imagine him now, bent over his desk, twirling a pencil between his fingers, mind working like freshly-oiled cogs and pushing his glasses up his nose. Completely concentrated. And yet, he was still on his computer, with the application open, as if to test his own restraint.

And to be fair to him, he never cracked, not once. For the entire time since their last meeting and now, he never messaged.

With her own exams out of her way, she spent most of her time with Priya (albeit at the pub, with glasses of wine emptied as well as the details of every meeting she’d had with Michael Gavey).

“Oh my god, as if you are into nerdy little white boys!” she laughed with a cigarette perched between her two fingers and proclaimed far too loudly so that the entire pub heard.

“Shut u-” she retorted with a slap to her arm, “besides, not so little, if you know what I mean.”

“It’s like I hardly know you. I love it.”

“Stop it,” she retorts, sitting back in her chair with a flush to her face, “he's genuinely nice.”

“That's not what I heard,” Priya snorts, “I hear he had a hissy fit on like the first day ‘cos someone wouldn't ask him a sum.”

“He's very passionate.”

“Hm,” she widened her eyes, “let’s hope it translates.”

She presses her lips together to keep herself from smiling. Watching Priya’s mind tick will never get old.

“Oh my fucking god, is he a v-”

“Yes, Priya!”

She gasps in mock surprise, “you absolute gremlin. So you've not…?”

“Not yet,” she replies with a shake of her head, “told him we could after he's done his exams.”

“And you're making him wait for it? I had no idea you were so cruel.”

She shrugs, biting back a smile as her eyes drop to the table. Excitement bubbling in her belly.

Priya leans in, her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, "So, spill it then. What's the plan for the big night?"

She chuckles nervously, swirling the remnants of her wine in her glass. "I don't know, Priya. I've never been in this position before. It's like uncharted territory."

Priya's eyes widen with exaggerated shock. “My queen of confidence, feeling nervous? This I have to see."

She rolls her eyes, but there's a playful glint in them. "Oh, shut up. It's different when it's someone you actually like."

Priya nods understandingly, but then her expression turns mischievous. "Well, just remember to relax and enjoy yourself. And if all else fails, there's always wine."

She laughs, shaking her head. "Thanks, Priya. I appreciate the pep talk."

Priya grins, raising her glass. "To new adventures and nerdy white boys!"

As they continue chatting, her phone buzzes with a new message. She glances down at the screen, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. Priya notices her reaction and nudges her playfully. "Ooh, speak of the devil?"

She nods, trying to suppress her smile as she reads the message. "Yeah, he's just about to go in for his exam."

Priya winks suggestively. "Maybe he's hoping for a sneak preview of what's to come? You know, for luck.”

“Ha ha,” she rolls her eyes, typing off a quick reply of good luck, “remind me to never tell you personal shit ever again.”

“Mate, it's the suit. You're gonna see him in it and jump his di-”

“Priya!”

“What?!”

She should have known better really that wine tends to have this loosening effect on Priya. And she'd barely finished her own glass before it was time to hop off and meet Michael after his very last exam. It was the perfect day for it, with the sun blaring, everyone was in a good mood, with an electrifying and exciting atmosphere light in the breeze.

As she waited with the other groups of friends waiting to cheer on the examinees, she felt that pleasant roll of nerves in her stomach, biting her lip to contain her smile.

She thought that with some level of embarrassment, she was really really falling for this guy. Or this ‘nerdy, white boy’ as Priya so eloquently put it.

Her cheeks hurt from smiling when she saw his lanky, suit clad form saunter out of the exam hall. Her chest ached pleasantly when he hopefully scanned the crowd, watching others join their friends in celebration. And for a moment, she thought she detected the slightest hint of fomo.

But nothing compared to when he finally spotted her.

Though Michael tried to hide it, a thin lipped smile spread across his face, fiddling with the cap he held in his palms, looking down as if to hide his expression.

Her hands found the front of his suit, affectionately running over the material, “Hey. You look nice.”

He nearly rolled his eyes, “can't wait to get out of it. Too hot for this.”

The excited squealing and shouting stole both of their attention for a moment, particularly Michael's. He glanced sideways at the Felix Catton, with his newest toy, smiling and laughing without a care in the world.

She furrowed her brows, patting his chest, “who's that?”

Michael blinked behind his glasses, throat bobbing as he remained quiet for a moment, “No-one. Come on, let's go.”

As they settled by the tranquil riverbank, the gentle murmur of the water providing a soothing backdrop, they both relaxed into the moment. The weight of the exam stress began to lift, replaced by the lightness of shared laughter and companionship.

Sitting side by side, their feet dangling over the edge, they clinked their bottles together in a silent toast before taking refreshing sips. The sun cast a warm glow over them, painting the scene with hues of gold and amber.

Leaning back on their hands, they watched as birds soared overhead, their graceful movements adding to the serenity of the afternoon. Occasionally, a playful breeze would ruffle their hair, prompting soft chuckles and playful swats.

“So, have you decided yet?”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, “what?”

He fiddled with his tie that he'd long taken off in somewhat of a nervous gesture, “it’s been 142 minutes.”

She furrowed her brows, trying not to look amused, “since what?”

He chuckled, trying to hide his nerves. “You said you'd consider being my girlfriend after exams.”

Her smile widened, a fondness evident in her gaze. “Oh, that? Well, I guess it's been 142 minutes too long then, hasn't it?”

She could see the way he was trying not to look too relieved. “Really?”

“Really,” she confirmed, leaning in to press a tender kiss to his lips. “But only if you promise to stop counting the minutes.”

He cocked his head, a breathy laugh falling from between his lips, a faint flush rising to his cheeks at the brief moment of contact. “No can do.”

She hummed a laugh, the lightness of the situation making her stomach flip, “Are the Carol Vorderman posters non-negotiable too?”

He threw his head up to the sky, “Fucking christ, I don’t have-”

“I know! I know!”

Had Michael seen himself months ago, he wouldn’t have imagined it, walking back to his dorm with a half-empty stomach and the alcohol to replace it with a tipsy waddle, and a girl’s hand closed in his, swinging at their sides.

Whereas campus was usually rife with busy students, toing and froing between the library, lectures and their dorms, today was calm, clear. And it felt as if for once, Michael could loosen the reins on the anticipation that had been building in preparation for his exams, and relax into the soothing company she offered.

She laughed as he tripped over the threshold to his room, the tiniest drop of fruity cider still at the bottom of her bottle. Michael flushed and immediately went to unbutton his shirt, looking somewhat apprehensive.

“Leave it on, if you want,” she smiled coyly, watching the way a blush crept up his neck, his wide blue eyes beneath the frames of his glasses all shy with anticipation.

“...you sure?”

She nodded immediately, trying to calm his nerves. Though she could hardly blame him, she'd felt the same flutters in her belly when it was her first time. She was sure he was no different.

“Course, looks good on you anyway,” she mused, her fingers gently swatting his hand away playfully to undo only the top few buttons. Michael shivered at her touch there, sending waves of pleasurable nerves through his body.

They stood there for a moment, taking each other in, and as she set her bottle down on the desk, she couldn't help but lean in to press one, two, tipsy kisses to his neck. If she could see his face, his eyes had long since slipped shut, lips parted as if not knowing what on earth to say.

“I've…never done this before.”

“It's okay,” she whispered, breath hot on his skin, “I'll look after you.”

The cheeky smile she gave him made his heart almost stop dead in his chest. But his confession, and her calm receiving of it, seemed to bridge the gap between them, and when she turned her head to look at him, he captured the surprised gasp between his lips, and worked up the courage he'd built the last two trysts of intimacy into this one tender moment.

It was gentle at first, hesitant. But as their mutual desire overcame their initial shyness, it deepened in no time.

Her hands found their way to the back of his neck, careful fingers threading up over his nap to the sandy, blonde hair that had formed a subtle wave from the humidity. His own hands settled on her waist, pulling their bodies flush. And the softness of her lips and the anticipation of his hands drifting lower to the hem of her dress, had his stomach doing backflips.

They moved to the bed by sheer instinct, their kisses growing more urgent as she gently pushed him down and straddled his lap, all while his hands roamed her back, waist and lower towards her thighs, exploring the contours and curves of her body above him.

She pulled back slightly, her own face flushed from heat, feeling his hardness already between her legs where she was placed on top of him, “trust me, okay?”

Michael nodded, the bob of his throat betraying how nervous he was, “I do...”

She smiled, her own confidence calming his nerves, and guided his hands to the straps of her dress, showing without words that there was nothing beneath it. Michael himself let out a strained whimper when her hand crept up his thigh, and massaged his erection through his suit trousers, squeezing up his shaft to the sensitive tip.

“We can do it like this, if you prefer..” she whispered, wanting to do things the way he wanted for his first time.

He nodded, looking up at her with an expression that said everything, relief, “yeah, please..”

Her hands were tender and slow, undoing the heavy buckle of his belt and popping the button, each movement making the air feel hot in his chest. And emboldened by their intimacy, his own hands slid up her thighs, rolling the hem of her dress up to her hips, sighing against her lips and smirking when she whined at his grip.

“Fuck-”

It was her turn to grin when she finally wrapped her hand around him, pulling him from the confines of his boxers and teasing him with her touch. His eyes dared to look between them, at her slender fingers around his cock, drawing both delicious pleasure and sending sparks up his spine.

Her hips lowered, to grind herself on his length, and Michael nearly lost it there and then, even thinking about being inside her. To be honest, it was part of the reason he wanted to stay clothed, because he'd finish too quickly if he saw her completely naked.

“You okay?” She asked with a pleased smile, knowing her answer without needing an answer.

“Y-yeah…do I need…”

“It's up to you,” she reassured, “I'm clean, and I'm on the pill so…”

He nodded, secretly a little mortified at the idea of having his first time without protection on his part. It had always been drilled into him that, in truth, he was a little apprehensive, but the knowledge that she was careful, made him feel better about it.

“Do you want me like this?” She asked quietly, her lips at his jaw, pressing tiny gentle kisses, “me on top.”

“Yeah, yeah…”, Michael nodded quickly, his hands tightening at her hips. In truth he just wanted to do it, too wound tight and excited to care about the position.

She shuffled closer, trailing her lips down his neck as she pulled her underwear to one side. Truthfully the alcohol, as little as it was, had made her a bit needy for him the second he walked out of the exam hall. And being his first time, it was probably just as well he didn't feel the need to prepare her, assuming it'd be overwhelming for him.

Slowly she lowered herself onto him, the initial stretch stealing the air from her lungs for a moment. She could feel his breath come in ragged gasps. His grip tighten. And as soon as she felt him tense, she stopped and let him decide when he wanted to continue.

She was so warm and tight around him, Michael couldn't help at first but think it was uncomfortable. But once he took a breath, he could feel her silky walls envelop him, closing in with a desperate hold. It was hard to stay still. And that initial discomfort ebbed into relaxation.

She was about to ask if he was okay, but she let out a strained moan, as his hands pushed her hips down to meet his as he pushed up, pulling her on top of him so that she was flush to his body.

Her hands held him tight, he felt utterly different inside her than she had imagined. The stretch of him was a pleasurable pain at first, but once she'd relaxed and adjusted around him, after months of no sex, she felt herself grind on him slightly.

“Jesus fucking Christ-”

She smiled at that, leaning up to face him, “you okay?..”

“God, yeah, very okay-” he manages.

“Do you want me to-”

“Can I…” he asks, “please.”

“Y-yeah-”

His hand slipped behind her neck, tugging her lips down to his, while the other slid down her back, pushing her down on him to meet him halfway with every tentative thrust into her. From this position, with her chest nearly flush to his, her breasts rippling over the top of her dress rhythmically, she could feel him deeper. And the sensation had her unable to form any coherent thought.

She knew he wouldn't last long. Judging by the way he was moaning lowly against her lips and how his hips stuttered as they moved.

She also didn't expect any kind of orgasm from the experience, fully wanting it to just be comfortable for Michael and nothing else. But when he pulls her down, his hands snaking around her waist tightly, and the cooling sensation on his glasses against her shoulder as he buries his head there, she finds that, whether he intended to or not, he brushes against her sweet spot.

Michael groans as she tightens around him slightly, each push inside of her fuels the numb, simmering sparks of an orgasm, slowly building, and she is powerless to stop it.

“Fffuck-”

And yet she can feel him losing momentum. He's worn himself out too early she can tell. So pushing herself off his chest, she sits up on top of him and does the work herself. Her thighs burn and she feels a bit self conscious being in full view like this, but it feels too good for her to care. She grinds her hips down on his length, looking down at Michael and watching his appreciative expression, his glasses skewed slightly.

His jaw goes slack at the renewed pace, and his hands remain on her waist as he throws his head back, brows furrowed, the tell tale sign he's nearly there. So concentrated on moving on top of him, she knows she won't come, but it still feels nice nonetheless.

And as she pushes her hips backwards and forwards on him, nudging her sweet spot more forcefully, she cries out, causing Michael to look down between them and watch the way he disappears inside of her, moist bodies slapping together.

“Oh fuck, fuck, I'm-”

Michael would be ashamed to say how much he's touched himself to the thought of that first night with her, when she knelt between his legs in the common room. Of course, it felt good. But finishing inside her, with her smooth, velvety walls sucking him in, fluttering around him, feels so entirely different. It's like being on another planet.

His hips give a few final mini thrusts up into her, before he stills, riding out his high and letting himself descend from heaven. He is only brought back, when she leans down to kiss his neck, trailing up to his jaw.

“You okay?...” She asks, her voice ragged and quiet.

Michael swallows through breaths he sucks in, “yeah…” he answers simply, glancing up at her and smiling through foggy lenses. “You?”

She laughs breathily, her fingers drawing patterns on his chest, “More than okay.”

“Even though you didn't…?”

“Don't worry about me. Tonight was for you,” she smiles, sliding off him to his side, and pulling her dress down slightly. “You did great, you know.”

He chuckles, tucking himself away, slinging an arm around her, “guess all that practice watching Countdown paid off.”

She snorts a laugh at that, the atmosphere lifting, “yeah, remind me to send Carol Vordermann an official thank you.”

Michael grins, feeling more relaxed now. "You think she'd respond? Maybe send me an autograph for my wall?"

She laughs, nudging him playfully. "Oh, I'm sure she'd be thrilled to know she had such a positive impact on your life.” she smiles at him, tucking herself beneath the covers, “anyway stop talking about other women around me, I get jealous.”

“Sor-ry,” he smirks. Michael's grin widens as he pretends to ponder deeply. "Well, as long as you're teaching, maybe you could help me with all the different positions... in grammar, of course."

She laughs, her eyes twinkling with amusement as he rolls on top of her, her legs parting instinctually. "Oh, absolutely, but I must warn you, I'm very thorough."

Michael replies, voice low and warm, his hand stealing between them both to slide his fingers between her thighs. “Good thing I'm a quick learner then.”

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@castellomargot @emmaisafictionwhore @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust

@minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @primonizzutto

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#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey x oc #michael gavey smut #michael gavey #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey fanficiton #michael gavey fic #michael gavey x fem!reader #michael gavey x female #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fic #saltburn 2023

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 10 months

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“I love you, and I am terrified of what that means.” Simon admitted quietly, his eyes drifting down toward his twiddling fingers as you sat across from him.

Your head perked up, your eyes softening as you looked over at your lieutenant. Your heart felt like it was practically beating out of your chest, your mind struggling to absorb what he’d just confessed to you.

The two of you were stuck in an abandoned home after a failed mission, waiting for much needed evacuation to come and rescue you. Both of you were relatively unharmed, but you’d had a very close call much to Simon’s dismay.

“You love me?” You asked after a moment, struggling to steady your shaking hands. There was no way he returned your affections, no way in hell. After years of working together, you could’ve sworn Simon only ever saw you as a comrade.

Simon said nothing in return as he picked at his nails, his mind swirling with everything he wanted to tell you. Words were not his strong suit, and he shocked even himself when he admitted his deeply rooted feelings for you.

“Simon, I-.”

“When I saw that gun pointed at you, I felt..” Simon took a deep breath before continuing. “If you had died, I don’t know how I would’ve lived with myself.”

“I’m okay though, Simon. I’m alive.”

“No, you don’t get it Y/N.” Simon stood, running his hands through his hair in frustration. His voice was cracking slightly, and it was clear he hadn’t been this distressed in quite some time.

“Help me understand, Simon. Please, let me in.” You pressed gently, not daring move from your spot as you watched him pace at the window.

Simon stopped pacing, and instead stood looking out the shattered window, his eyes landing on the starless sky. “I realized in that moment, when I thought you were going to be killed.. I realized that my heart would stop beating if I never saw your face again.”

A soft sob escaped your lips at his words, and your hands flew to your mouth as tears began to fall down your cheeks. You shakily made your way to your feet, desperately trying to steady your racing heart as you slowly made your way to him.

“And I’m fucking terrified, Y/N. I don’t know how to deal with how I’m feeling, I don’t know how to act, how to think. This is uncharted territory for me.” Simon turned as he spoke, his eyes widening as you were closer to him than before.

“I am too.” You admitted, looking into Simon’s deep brown eyes. “I’m so scared. I spent all this time thinking you never felt the same, and now that I know you do, it..it becomes real. But I trust you, Simon.”

His breath began to quicken as you stepped another inch toward him, your hand reaching to cup his masked cheek softly. “If you continue whatever it is you’re about to do, I can’t promise we can come back from this.”

Standing on your toes, you gave Simon a soft smile before pulling up his mask, revealing his scarred lips. “I know.”

Throwing caution to the wind, Simon grabbed your chin softly, tilting your head up toward him. His brown eyes flickered from your eyes, then to your lips. “Okay.”

With one final glance at your eyes, Simon pressed his lips to yours, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not what came next, not what this meant for the two of you….simply just you and him, and the kiss he never wanted to end.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mw2

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rayhalloffame · 18 days

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Reblogged a post about how there are not enough fics of Patrick crying over reader and I couldn’t agree more. Here’s a college!patrick au, considering making a part 2 but you all let me know!

…………

It takes a lot for Patrick to reach the point of tears but when they do prick his eyes you’re stunned. He’s stood across the room from you, looking as if his heart has just been ripped from his chest. Which is odd considering the shouting match you’d just finished.

He’d shown up to your college apartment unannounced following your commitment to ignoring his texts. When you see him through the peephole you’re considering pretending no one is home, but you know he would make a scene and your neighbors would complain in the morning. Once unlocked, he pushes through your front door in seconds, storming in and whipping around to face you just as the door shuts behind you.

“What the fuck is your problem,” he demands, getting in your face. You roll your eyes and side step him to walk toward your living room. You can hear him approaching before you feel his hand grasp your wrist and wheel you around to face him.

“Pat, I’m not doing this.” You remove your arm from his grip and take a few steps backwards. The atmosphere is icy but he’s clearly got fire running through him, you can see it in the way he clenches his fists at his side. You cross your arms firmly over your chest. “I told you what I wanted. It’s not what you want. So that’s that.” Despite your assured tone your heart races against your ribs.

“I can’t give you what you want,” he insists, sounding exasperated. His hand combs roughly through his hair then slides down his face. “I can’t. But I want you. We can still have this.”

Your “no” is immediate. You take a deep breath. “I don’t want to be one of your girls, Patrick. I want to be your girl. You can’t fuck me and hold me after, and then go make out with some sorority chick the same weekend. I don’t deserve that.” Your voice is rising octaves and you swallow hard in efforts to keep your temper at bay.

He cracks a smile for the first time. “But the sex is really good, isn’t it?”

You glare at him. “Fuck you. Seriously.” You brush past him to go open your front door with intentions on kicking him out.

Your hand is reaching to turn the knob when he shouts at your back, “What do you want from me, huh?” He’s angry again. You turn back to face him. “A white picket fence? Two dogs and three kids?” His head tilts to the side mockingly. You seethe from where you stand. “We’re so young! Why can’t you just have a good time?”

“Because I want more!” You gesticulate fiercely with your hands. “I’m not asking you to marry me, Patrick. I’m just tired of feeling like someone you couldn’t give two shits about!” You’re flushed. Your announcement makes the air go dead.

And that’s how you ended up here, with what was at first a tick of his jaw, an extra bat of his eyelashes, but quickly turned into his face crumpling devastatingly. You suddenly want to take it all back, tell him that he can have you however he wants. But you can’t.

You do take a few cautious steps towards him, sighing his name. He hangs his head, brings his hands up to shield his face from view. He doesn’t retaliate when you bring your hands up to grasp his wrists, smoothing down the length of his forearms.

And then he sobs. It comes deep from his chest and you furrow your brow in concern. You’ve never even seen his eyes water in the year you’ve known him, so this is uncharted territory. You call his name again, gently, give his arms a slight tug to reveal his face. His cheeks are wet and blotchy already.

You pull him to the couch with you, because despite everything, you hold a big space in your heart for Patrick. You sit sideways against the arm to face him, one leg tucked under you. He’s apologizing for anything and everything, pleading with you but you’re not sure what for.

You wipe his face with the palm of your hand. “It’s okay,” you insist. He’s barely looking at you, sniffling pathetically. You straighten your leg against the back of the couch to make space for him between your thighs, pulling at his shoulder so he falls to your chest. He clutches at your body, his own wracking with the force of his cries. Neither of you says a word for a long time. You scratch your fingers through his hair and down his neck, press kisses to the crown of his head until he’s ready.

“You’ll find someone better,” is what he says when he breaks the silence. You freeze. He continues. “You think you want me now, but you’ll find someone better. You deserve to.” He looks up at you with puffy eyes and a red nose. “But you’re my best girl. I can’t have you and lose you.”

Your heart breaks. He is so charming and so full of himself that the insecurity is easy to miss. This is your Patrick, who challenges you to be the best version of yourself, takes care of you when you’ve had too much to drink, wipes your tears after you force him to watch a romcom, fucks you better than anyone ever has.

“You’re so stupid,” you say. “You’re who I want. I don’t know why you can’t see how great you are.” You lean down to press a kiss between his eyes. You rub your thumb back and forth at the nape of his neck. His migration up your body happens quickly, and so does the kiss he presses to your mouth. It’s easy enough for him to get his tongue involved, his big hand holding you close by the back of your neck.

You break the contact before things get carried away, remind him that your feelings on the situation haven’t changed. If he doesn’t want to close things off then you can’t move forward. “Only you,” he agrees, head nodding. He repeats it over and over and over while he drags his lips across your jaw until he meets your mouth again in a sloppy kiss. You’re about the have the best makeup sex of your life, you can already tell.

#cal talks #challengers #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader

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innerfare · 6 days

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Shanks Relationship Headcanons

Summary: A random collection of Shanks relationship headcanons

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

Shanks can’t stand you at first. You get under his skin without even trying. Worse still, you don’t take his bait- you don’t bicker with him, you don’t argue, but you also don’t laugh at his jokes, and it drives him absolutely insane. He’s never met anyone he couldn’t drag down to his level and he doesn’t know what to do about that.

You also rebuff his advances initially, and he panics because nobody rebuffs his advances. He could bed Akainu if he wanted to, he’s certain of it, so why can’t he bed you? He becomes consumed by his desire to have you, not just in his bed but in his company more generally, eating at his table and sharing a drink and some gossip with him.

He never shuts up about you, constantly complaining to Beckman, who realizes what is going on almost immediately. Beckman doesn’t bother trying to illuminate Shanks as to the annoying predicament that is love, just laughs to himself.

Starts writing down and rehearsing his absolute best material before he sees you. When you don’t laugh, he becomes convinced you’re withholding your laughter just to be mean to him. He almost blows a gasket when Lucky Roux tells him, “you know, Captain, maybe your sense of humor just isn’t for everyone.”

This eventually culminates in him blowing up and kissing you one night. To his utter surprise, you kiss him back. From that point forward, the two of you are going steady, which is uncharted territory for Shanks.

When he does finally identify your sense of humor, it’s one of his proudest moments. He’s merciless from that point forward, drawing as many laughs from your lips as possible. He'll even resort to tickling you just to hear that musical sound.

To his surprise, you relationship quickly becomes his temple. You’re the person he’s actually serious with, the person with whom he shares his fears and ambitions, with whom he is raw and vulnerable. When he has nightmares, you’ll be the one to comfort him, and when he has doubts, you’ll be the one to reassure him.

There’s much more to him than meets the eye. He isn’t just a drunken layabout or a prankster, but a complex man with great ambition, and the foundation of your relationship is your ability to unravel these complexities.

That being said, if he does eventually make you a little less mature, a little more petty, a little more childish, he’ll view it as one of his greatest victories.

So dramatic. Tells you things like, “I would cease to exist if we were parted,” and, “you fill in the cracks in my soul,” and he means them 100%. Naturally you don’t realize he means them 100% until you find yourself in a life-threatening situation and he drops literally everything to rescue you, apologizing profusely for allowing a hair on your head to be harmed. It’s in that moment you realize the gravity of receiving the affection of an Emperor.

Brings you flowers, usually a bundle of cheap supermarket flowers with a lot of different colors (he can't actually identify any of the flowers but thought they were pretty). He’s the sort to throw rocks at your window and serenade you with a guitar (he’ll sing but he’s bad at it), but only after you’re in a relationship so it makes you laugh more than it makes you swoon.

Will order Beckman to reroute the crew’s course so far out of their way it’s comical because he wants you to try a restaurant on an island he visited a decade ago because they served your favorite food in a unique and delicious way; naturally when you get there the restaurant has closed. Shanks makes it up to you with a bowl of ramen, though.

Got you a massive stuffed strawberry from a carnival (he lost the game but stole the prize anyway when the carnie wasn’t looking, delinquent ass boyfriend), gets very upset if he walks into your room and it’s not on your bed. Now likes to call you strawberry. Other nicknames include red panda or just panda and even my sake cup. Also refers to you in conversation as the crown jewels.

Tipsy walks down the beach at night, your fingers intertwined, that end with him chasing you through the shallows, catching you in his arms, and spinning you around. He loves a good came of chase, or even hide and seek. Also, strip poker.

Would never admit it, but he’s often the little spoon. He’ll collapse on top of you after a night of drinking with the boys. Also, he can’t fall asleep without a fistful of something, and since the two of you became an item, that something is usually your hair or shirt (at least to keep it SFW 😉).

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

#one piece #one piece headcanons #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks #akagami no shanks #red hair shanks #benn beckman #red hair pirates #one piece fluff

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twilghtkoo · 6 months

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telling my boyfriend my tampon is stuck . . .

pairings. haechan x reader (f)

genre. crack, fluff? established relationship

warnings. mentions of period blood lol

note. i've wanted to do this one for awhile lol and i finally had time to write this quickly so sorry if it's short, like and reblogs are vv much appreciated !! enjoy <3

[ series masterlist | masterlist ]

"babe?" you call out quietly, sounding nervous, from the bathroom.

you hear rustling in your bedroom. "yeah," he responds.

"can you come here please?" you wait patiently, swaying on your feet.

he appears a few feet away from the doorway. "what's up, baby?"

with him now standing in front of you, you're not sure how to go about this and you have to fight your inner self from bursting out into fits of nervous giggles.

you start fiddling with the rings around your fingers. "umm, i can't get my tampon out. it's stuck.."

his mouth slightly opens as he glances down then back up at you. "oh god, the string is gone?" he slightly chuckles but inches towards you, reaching with his hand to softly grab onto your elbow.

his reaction has you both chuckling a bit. "yeah, it's pretty far up there. i'm scared."

he nods, "okay, i'll get it." he replies, as if this was a normal occurence.

"no, no wait. it's bloody and gross."

he blinks. "so? i'll wash my hands first, you should lie down- wait i'll set a towel down for you. let me grab a flashlight-"

your head snaps towards him, grabbing his hand from leaving the room, with your eyes wide. "a flashlight? wait, no it's scary." you back away, laughing out of fear.

"baby, trust me i'll find it. we don't wanna leave it in there do we?" he quirks an eyebrow.

"well, no but-" he cuts you off.

leaving to grab a towel from the linen closet as he neatly places it down on the tiled floor. "i'm not walking into uncharted territory babe, don't you worry. take your pants off, lie down, knees up-"

"baby, wait!"

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paperultra · 1 year

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mise en rose.

Pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader Word Count: 3,806 words Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use

The tune that your father used to whistle now leaves your lips the same way it left his.

Notes skip offkey across the water as your boat rocks gently, waves lapping up against the wooden sides. The moon shines brightly overhead. You shift in place and wait for a tug on your fishing line, the basket at your feet waiting patiently for its first meal.

Archy will be happy if you actually catch something for once. There’s not a lot of fish around here, and you’re not exactly sure why; something about the aquatic plants in the area, or if you were to believe the old man in the village square, a curse that swallows anything with fins that swims too close. The last time you caught something was months ago, and it was tiny and more bone than flesh.

You don’t really care. It’s enough to just sit out here and feel the waves.

Cheeks puffing up with air for another round of music, you let your gaze drift out towards the ocean and abruptly freeze.

There’s something floating in the distance.

A piece of debris. Wood from a hull, a scrap of sail perhaps?

The thought that it may be the remnant of a ship destroyed at sea is enough for you to reel in your line and start rowing towards it, anticipation bubbling up and drowning out any thoughts of a midnight snack.

You get close enough and your anticipation gives way to shock.

“Oh, shit.”

The guy clinging to the chunk of wood stirs and lifts his head, and you almost hit him upside the head with your oar.

“Oh, shit. You’re alive.”

—

“You say you’re going out fishing and you come back with a half-dead man with three swords?” Archy looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm, but this time, you don’t blame him. This is certainly uncharted territory and your older brother is hopeless without a map. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What was I supposed to do, leave him to die?”

“I dunno! Yeah!” he gestures to the waterlogged man lying halfway on the living room couch, one arm and leg hanging off the side. “Look at him. He’s probably a pirate!”

“Damn, you think?” Crouching down, you drag your eyes across Swordsman’s ragged clothing and grin. You might’ve just rescued someone with a bounty on his head. “That’d be so cool.”

“That would not be cool.”

You shrug. “Well, I brought him in already, so you might as well help me unless you want a dead body in our living room.”

“You little –” Taking a deep breath, Archy pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a long, loud groan, and you know that you’ve won once more. “Fine. But as soon as he’s even a little bit better, we’re calling the Marines.”

“Okay,” you agree amicably. “So, what do we do first?”

“We have to undress him and warm him up.”

“Got it.” Your eager fingers go straight for the swords.

The man comes to life without warning. Seizing your wrist, he cracks one eye open and speaks in a low and rasping voice.

“Don’t. Touch. My swords.”

“Uh,” you say.

“We got to get everything off, mate,” Archy grumbles, and your guest turns his glare onto your brother. “I know how to clean swords and scabbards. I’ll dry them off and put them under the couch afterward.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

With a grunt, Swordsman pushes you away and attempts to sit up. He struggles for a full minute, jaw clenched and muscles trembling; his arms, strong and sturdy as they are, look like they’ll buckle at any moment.

Your eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling when he actually manages to prop himself up.

“Well, that’s impressive,” you mutter, making eye contact with Archy. He rolls his eyes. “Can you remove your clothes and wrap yourself up too?”

It takes a few moments before Swordsman has enough breath to respond. “I’m fine,” he says once he can.

“You’re really not,” Archy replies.

“You’re probably really dehydrated,” you say. “How long were you out there?”

The man stares at you, opens his mouth, pauses.

“Three days. Maybe.”

You gape. “You spent three days floating in the East Blue and you’re not dead?” You look at his neck for gills. “Are you a fishman or something?”

“No.”

“Really? I mean, I never met any fishmen before, so …”

His eye twitches. “I’m not a fishman.”

“Well, okay, if you say so.”

What a weird guy. Then again, you’ve heard that all sorts of characters traverse the Blue Sea. Devil fruit users, talking animals, clowns. A person who can survive the ocean for a couple days on a piece of wood is hardly out of the question.

“You’re dehydrated, in any case,” you conclude. “I’ll get you some water.”

—

After gruffly accepting a glass of water and putting on some dry clothes, Swordsman proceeds to “sleep it off” for the next twenty-four hours. When he finally wakes up, it’s in the middle of the night and you’ve just started rereading your favorite book.

“Oh, he’s awake,” you say when he stirs, swinging your feet off the coffee table and leaning forward in your chair to observe.

He grimaces under the dim light of your lamp, lifting an arm to press it over his eyes. “How long was I out,” he grouses.

“’Bout a day.”

“Shit.” He wriggles around in the fuzzy blanket you’ve wrapped around him. Once he’s loosened its hold enough, he sits up slowly and looks around, expression equal parts drowsy and wary. “Where –”

“Archy took your swords and cleaned them. They’re under the couch.”

“I told you not to touch them.”

“I didn’t. My brother did.”

Casting you the most unamused glare, Swordsman bends over to look underneath the couch. He pulls his swords out and places them in his lap, inspecting the white one first with a care that makes you rest your chin in your hand, curious and charmed. His brow furrows and you know that he finds your brother’s work to be satisfactory when he moves on to inspect the other two.

“Our uncle was a bladesmith in Loguetown. He taught Archy a thing or two before he passed.”

“You’re bladesmiths?”

“Coopers. Uncle was the rebel, I guess.” You close your book and stand up. “There’s leftover soup in the fridge. I’ll heat up the broth for you.”

This time, the man does not refuse your help and only nods. As you head to the kitchen and start to reheat the soup, you glance over and catch him sipping from the glass of water you’d topped off while he was asleep. Somehow, even that small action intrigues you. You smile.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ladling the steaming broth into a small bowl, you stick a spoon in and walk back to where Swordsman is, sitting beside him. “Here you go. Don’t drink it too fast, and all that.”

He takes the soup, blows on a spoonful, tastes it. His eyes close, and something funny happens in your stomach when he opens them again to look at you.

“’S good.”

“Really?” He nods and puts the bowl to his lips to drink directly from it. “Thanks.”

You let him finish the miso broth in silence. It gives you time to stare at him some more; even with the horrible sunburn and petroleum jelly smeared everywhere, he’s a very handsome man, that much you can tell, with broad shoulders and a pretty face and hair as green as forest moss. The three earrings on his left ear gleam gold and sway with every movement he makes.

“Are you gonna keep staring at me, or are you gonna ask me questions?”

“Hm? Oh!” Shaking your head in slight bewilderment, you smile. “Yeah, I guess it would be good to ask some questions … so, what’s your name, anyway?”

“Roronoa Zoro.”

You tilt your head with a frown. “Roronoa Zoro.” You taste the name in your mouth. “That sounds really familiar. Are you a pirate?”

“No. I hunt them.”

“You hunt them?”

“That’s what I said.”

You look at his swords again. His earrings. Three and three.

Shooting up from the couch, you dash to Archy’s room and slam the door open.

“Archimead! Wake up!” You grab your brother’s shoulders and rattle him.

“Shit – what?!” he gargles, pushing your face away with one meaty hand and sitting up. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s Roronoa Zoro!”

“What?”

“The guy in our living room,” you shriek at him, practically shaking, “is the Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. I fished Roronoa Zoro out of the fucking ocean.”

Archy stops rubbing his eye. “What.”

Soon enough, Zoro faces both you and your brother in the living room once more.

“You’re Roronoa Zoro? For real?” Archy asks him.

Zoro blinks up him. “Yeah.”

“Can you prove it?”

“‘Can you prove it’ – Archy, look at him. He’s got three earrings in his left ear and three fucking swords.”

“He could be some sort of copycat. We have no idea what Roronoa Zoro actually looks like.”

“You’re such a pessimist. Nobody would lug around three swords if they couldn’t use all of them at once.” You turn your attention back onto Zoro. “How the hell did you get stranded out there?”

He looks between the two of you, waiting for a moment before crossing his arms. “I was headed to Mirror Ball Island, but the boat I was on got caught in a whirlpool,” he says, displeased. “Then I got separated from the rest of the crew. Don’t know if they survived or not.”

“Mirror Ball Island?” you repeat. “That’s a three-day journey from here, at least.”

“Where’s here?”

“Dokusha Village.” You open one of the books on the table and point to a tiny strip of coast you’d labeled on the edge of the East Blue map. “Right there. You could buy a boat and sail west, straight to Mirror Ball Island.”

“I don’t have any beri on me right now,” Zoro says.

“Oh, yeah. Of course you don’t.” Archy puts his hands on his hips. “Well, the merchant ship is coming by in two weeks. If you’re all good by then, you can hitch a ride.”

“I’ll be fine by tomorrow night.”

You snort, closing the book and reclining back. “The rate you’re going, I don’t doubt it. Does that mean you want to leave earlier? You’ll still need a boat and supplies. Food, water, towels, sleeping gear. That all costs money. I mean, we could lend you some, but still.”

“I’ll work for it,” Zoro replies. “I don’t take and give nothing in return.”

Both you and Archy give a hum of approval.

—

True to his word, Roronoa Zoro is up and off the couch by the fourth day.

He doesn’t have a clue as to how to make barrels or buckets, which is expected, so he ends up helping with the grunt work of carrying staves into the workshop and stacking finished barrels. Other than that, there’s not much for him to do.

“Sorry if it’s boring,” you apologize during lunch, speaking through a mouthful of sandwich. “You’re kind of just hired muscle.”

Zoro shrugs, chewing on his own sandwich. Two girls walking by – Phoebe and Iris, the blacksmith’s daughters – spot him on the bench and giggle, hurrying past with glances over their shoulders. He appears not to care. “It’s fine.”

“I think you’re even stronger than my brother. Is it because of your training as a swordsman?”

“Probably,” he says.

“When did you start?”

“When I was eight.”

You nod sagely. “Not surprised. I’ve been helping around the workshop since I was a kid, and I only just finished my apprenticeship a few weeks ago. It’s good to start young.”

It seems that Zoro agrees by the way he grunts, stuffing the last piece of crust into his mouth.

When he’s done, you muster the courage to ask, “What’s it like, being a bounty hunter?”

Zoro raises an eyebrow at you. Then he gazes back out at the street. “It’s fine,” he responds. “Makes good money.”

You sigh exasperatedly. “Yeah, but, like, is it fun? Do you spend a lot of time at sea? See a lot of different places? Stuff like that.”

“I don’t do it for fun. My only goal is to become the world’s greatest swordsman.” He leans back and puts his hands behind his head. “It’s a shitton of traveling, both on ships and on land. I’ve been all over the East Blue.”

“Wow.” The word comes out as a sigh. You crunch longingly on a carrot stick. “That sounds amazing. It’s my dream to travel all over the world on a ship.”

“How come you’re here, then?”

You wince, hushing him hastily. Glancing behind you, you clear your throat and lean in to speak softly. “Archy hates the ocean. He worked on a merchant ship for a few months when he was eighteen and got super sick.” Upon reading Zoro’s blank expression, you clarify, “I can’t just leave him. I’m the only family he’s got now, and his younger sibling to boot. So Dokusha Village it is.”

“You’re staying because of your brother.”

“Yeah. I love him, so it’s fine.” There’s a familiar ache in your chest, but you push it down and elbow Zoro’s ribs in jest. (He doesn’t even move a muscle. Geez.) “Makes okay money. I got a bunch of adventure books to live through, anyway.”

It’s a little hard to meet your lunch companion’s eyes after that. You eat the rest of your carrots in silence, pretending to be occupied with finishing them. Zoro doesn’t utter another word.

But as the two of you get back to work, he seems a little warmer, a little less stiff. You make a silly joke and Zoro huffs out something that almost sounds like a laugh while Archy threatens to stick you in a rum barrel and roll you down a hill.

Perhaps you’ve made another friend.

—

“What are you making?”

You blow off the wood dust, closing one eye to cut a fin just right. “Shark. See?”

The bonfire you’d made crackles just a few feet away as you place the half-finished carving into Zoro’s palm. He picks it up with his other hand and twists it around, touching with intention, and you almost feel self-conscious with the way he’s examining it.

“Nice,” he finally says, and the praise makes you giddy. He hands the shark back to you.

“Thanks. I had a lot of practice.”

Zoro rests his elbows on the rock behind him and takes another swig of sake. You resume carving the shark’s fins, bare feet buried in the cool sand.

Archy’s on a date for once, so he left the two of you to your own devices for the night with a distracted wave goodbye and a warning that he’ll be back late. You took that as a chance to break into the alcohol after supper and drag Zoro down to the beach. The swordsman was willing to come along, though you suspect it was mostly for the sake.

“Ain’t that your third bottle?”

“I can hold my liquor.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “No need to brag.”

He wipes his mouth, dark brown eyes black in the firelight. They glint like steel when he looks over at you, but he doesn’t say anything – not that you’re surprised; sometimes Zoro just looks at whatever he wants without any reason. He’s not particularly complicated in that sense.

(You like that. Too many things in life are complicated.)

“Hey, Zoro.”

“Hm.”

Your lips purse. “Do you think my brother will get married one day?”

“How am I supposed to know?” His tone is flat.

“Well, I dunno! It’s just a question.” You frown, slowing in your work. “It’s just that after our parents died, he’s been too busy looking after me and the shop to court someone. He’s turning thirty next year and most people his age have settled down already. I feel kind of bad.”

“It’s not your fault,” Zoro says. “Wouldn’t he have more time now, anyway, since you can take care of yourself?”

“I think he’s been out for so long he doesn’t know how to date anymore.”

Zoro downs the rest of his sake. You know that there’s no advice he can give you regarding Archy’s marriage prospects, which doesn’t surprise you either. You suppose you just need someone to listen. It’s not like you can talk to Archy about it.

“Hell,” you remember, “I’m expected to be married by now, too. I’ve never even been on a date.”

“Really?”

“Nope. Why, are you surprised?”

Stretching his legs out in front of him, Zoro yawns and closes his eyes. “You just seem like the type.”

“What do you mean?”

“You talk a lot,” he says.

You burst out laughing. “Yeah, I do. Would that make me a good date?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“I’m guessing you’ve never been on one, either?”

Zoro shrugs. He doesn’t look too torn up about it. “Waste of time,” he mutters.

Your grin widens. “Figured you’d say that,” you drawl, digging your blade into the shark’s mouth. “Dating doesn’t really help you become the world’s greatest swordsman, does it?”

“Nope.”

“I still think it might be fun, though. If you’re with the right person.” With that, you brush away the last curl of wood from your carving. After admiring it for a few seconds, you offer the shark to Zoro, bumping the nose softly against his cheek. He opens his eyes and turns his head to squint at it. “Here you go. All yours.”

His brow furrows as he takes it.

“It’s a going away gift. Since you’re leaving tomorrow,” you say. Folding your knife and putting it down beside you, you grab your bottle of sake and gulp down half of what remains. “Don’t forget it.”

One of the logs in the bonfire crumbles, falling into the coals. Orange sparks fly up into the smoke and disappear just as quickly. You poke at the fire with a stick, trying not to think about how sad you’re going to be tomorrow morning.

“I won’t forget,” Zoro says.

“I know.”

—

It’s almost dawn, and the family boat is packed up and ready to set sail.

“Got everything?” Archy asks, lowering into a squat to scan over all the supplies.

“Yeah.” The swordsman drags a hand through his hair. “Thanks again for the boat.”

“It’s nothing.” Your brother elbows your arm, and you sway. “Oi. He said thank you.”

“I know,” you mumble. For the first time this morning, you spare Zoro a glance and smile at him, but it’s shaky and fake and you really hate how your voice wobbles when you say, “You don’t have to thank us. Just have a safe – have a safe –” Your voice cracks, and you look down at your feet, eyes burning. “Have a safe trip,” you finish quietly.

You can feel two pairs of eyes on you as your vision goes blurry. Shit. This is so embarrassing.

The fact of the matter is that Roronoa Zoro has been in Dokusha Village for only a week, and you’re already missing him like he’s been in your life for years. You’re going to watch him get into your family’s fishing boat and sail away, the wind at his back, the East Blue before him, and you will remain on the dock with your big brother beside you and your dream in your head.

You’re being selfish, but it’s not … it’s not fair.

Archy puts his hand on your shoulder and says your name.

You wipe your nose. “What?”

“… I’ve been thinking.” He sounds hesitant, taking in a deep breath and letting it go slowly, carefully. “You’ve always wanted to travel the world on a ship.”

It’s like the world tilts on its axis.

Rigidly, you look up at your brother, eyes wide.

“I’m not dumb, you know. You’ve only stayed here because of me,” Archy says. “I’m the one who’s supposed to look after you and protect you. But you’ve been able to do that for yourself for a while, now. Right?”

“Archy.” You swallow. “What are you …?”

“I talked with Zoro last night. He’s willing to take you to Mirror Ball Island, if you want.” His smile is crooked, but it trembles at the corners as he continues. “You know how to sail, how to navigate. We’ll just have to add some extra stuff to the boat.”

You can barely breathe.

“There’s plenty of merchant ships there,” Zoro adds, leaning on his sword. “Your skills are valuable. Just be willing to pull your own weight, and they’ll take you on board. If not, I’ll tell them to.”

“You don’t have to –” Now you’re full-on bawling. You throw your arms around Archy, who wraps you in a bear hug, and then around Zoro, who stiffens. “Thank you so much. Thank you thank you thank you.”

“No problem,” Zoro mumbles, patting you on the back. When you let go to beam at him, he averts his eyes and rubs the back of his neck. “Just hurry up.”

Nodding, you dash back up to your house, Archy following close behind. You grab your bag, throw what you need into it, snatch your hat from your bedpost. Less than twenty minutes pass before you’re all ready to go.

“Got everything?” Archy asks once more at the dock. You nod and look at Zoro, who nods as well. “All right.”

You hug Archy for the last time. Tears spill over and down your cheeks. “Thank you for everything, big bro. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, kid.” His voice is rough and trembly, muffled against your head. “Come back to visit sometime, okay?”

“Okay.”

Getting into the boat with Zoro, you help him check the rigging and hoist the sail. Archy unties the vessel and pushes the two of you off. As you float away, he waves, and you wave back, staring as he gets smaller and smaller.

“I’m not turning back,” Zoro tells you as you eventually settle in your seat. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Is it?

You cast one last glance back at Dokusha Village, at the small point of your brother. Then you look out at the broad expanse of the ocean. And you feel many things – joy, sadness, apprehension – but above all that, you feel –

Free.

“Yes,” you say firmly. You push your hat down and smile at Zoro, and this time, it’s genuine. “It is.”

Zoro smiles back. And as the sun begins to warm your face, you whistle your father’s song and think about the journey to come.

#opla #one piece #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro #opla zoro #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #once again i underestimated how long this would take. hoowee #opla zoro my grumpy old man :)#good thing reader is coming along otherwise he'd NEVER make it to mirror ball island rip

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bxyp · 6 months

Text

GENERAL RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS / Jujutsu Kaisen | 呪術廻戦

SYNOPSIS. General descriptions of the characters if they were in a relationship.

「 SFW + NSFW 」 separated for two parts.

SFW > safe for work; does not contain any sexual content and/or violence.

NSFW > not safe for work; contain sexual content and/or violence.

WARNING/S. GENDER NEUTRAL READER. violence, death (mention), sex, blowjob, oral sex, oral giving (reader), exhibitionism (technically), mutual masturbation, male organs mentioned (cock, dick and etc.).

CHARACTER/S. > Itadori Yuji, Maki Zen'in, Ryomen Sukuna, Toji Fushiguro, Uraume.

W.C. > 1.4k

𝙁𝙀𝙈 𝘿𝙉𝙄 & 𝙈𝘿𝙉𝙄 | 𝘽𝙀 𝘾𝘼𝙍𝙀𝙁𝙐𝙇 18+ 𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝘾𝙐𝙏

Itadori Yuji | 虎杖悠仁

「 SFW 」 PRE SHIBUYA ARC | Yuji would undoubtedly rank among the epitomes of an ideal boyfriend. Cute, cheerful and optimistic—a perfect boyfriend. With his extroverted nature, you will have to deal with his bursts of energy as well as times when he will be particularly affectionate. Picture him as the embodiment of a loyal golden retriever—a true 'puppy boyfriend' in every sense. While Yuji's extroverted tendencies may manifest in bursts of lively enthusiasm, he also possesses moments of profound tenderness, enveloping his partner in warmth and affection. He gracefully inspires his partner to emerge from their cocoon, gently coaxing them towards a world of shared joy and adventures.

POST SHIBUYA ARC | Yuji carries the weight of profound loss, having witnessed the death of numerous friends. Scarred by these harrowing experiences, his instinctive reaction is to protect those he cares about. Consequently, he may inadvertently resort to pushing away those closest to him—a misguided attempt rooted in love and a genuine desire to protect. So you would need some time to reasure him that you aren't leaving any time soon…

Maki Zen'in | 禪院真希

「 SFW 」 PRE SHIBUYA ARC | Maki personifies resilience, bearing the burden of her own burdens and shouldering everything with unwavering strength. Yet beneath her reserved façade lies a heart that beats with deep care, though she may be hesitant to admit it openly. For your sake, Maki tries to break down the barriers she has carefully erected, which is a testament to the depth of her affection. Gently showing vulnerability. Every crack in her steely resolve serves as a testament to the strength of her affection, a silent plea for understanding and from you acceptance.

DURING CULLING GAME ARC | Maki finds herself haunted by the tragic loss of her twin sister, a wound that cuts deep into her heart and soul. Determined to shield herself from further heartache, Maki naturally avoids getting too close to people emotionally. She puts up strong walls around herself, using them like a shield to stop herself from the sorrowful of potential loss. She is trying to push you away, fearing that the death may once again claim the person she holds most dear.

Ryomen Sukuna | 両面宿儺

「 SFW 」 PRE CULLING GAME ARC | Beware of the King of Curses, because kindness is generally rare in his heart. Sukuna, with his menacing appearance and chilling aura, is not one to easily succumb to the tender embrace of romance. In his world, love is a foreign concept, a concept he has never shared or felt the need to develop. If Sukuna feels attracted to you in a way that is beyond his understanding, don't expect his true emotions to be revealed quickly. Love, with all its complexities and vulnerabilities, is uncharted territory for him. He is a mystery, shrouded in frost, his heart covered in layers of impenetrable ice. Patience becomes your greatest ally in unraveling the enigma that is Sukuna. With each step forward, you tread cautiously, mindful of the thorns that line the path to his heart.

DURING CULLING GAME ARC | Even if Sukuna is wary of his newfound emotions, don't expect him to give you special treatment just because you've captured his interest. Sukuna is not sentimental and does not provide frivolous favors. He demands proof of your worth, demanding that you demonstrate your character and earn his respect through your actions. His admiration is a hard-won treasure bestowed upon those who prove themselves capable of navigating the treacherous.

「 NSFW 」 THE HEIAN ERA | Sukuna is definitely not an easy lover. He will squeeze the maximum out of you. Using your body, sometimes even without your consent, because in his understanding, at the moment when you gave him your heart, you also gave him your whole body, letting him do any indecency. He is not a pervert and prefer to do things the old and simple way. Although sometimes he asks Uraume to stretch you, since Sukuna’s cocks are also bigger than usual, so careful preparation is required so that you are not simply torn in a halves. There is hardly any tenderness in this process. Most often, this is just an impulse in which he can fulfill exclusively his desires, literally grinding into you until he himself is satisfied. So expect long nights since he got stamina and a lot of stress to take out (on you).

(yes, I'm a believer that Sukuna got two dicks, don't blame me for that.)

Toji Fushiguro | 伏黒甚爾

「 SFW 」 DURING HIDDEN INVENTORY ARC | Toji is plagued by deep-seated commitment issues, a restless wanderer who flits from one fleeting romance to another with reckless abandon. His primary focus lies in material gain, money, with little regard for the emotional entanglements that accompany lasting relationships. For him, love is but a passing fancy. However, amidst his nomadic lifestyle, there exists a rare exception—a woman (Megumi's mother) who once managed to capture his fleeting attention. Though elusive, the memory of her lingers in the recesses of his mind, a testament to the possibility of a deeper connection.

DURING HIDDEN INVENTORY ARC | It's going to take a lot of time and thinking for him to figure out his feelings and realize that he wants things that aren't just about money or quick fun. He needs to face his fears and doubts, and think about the idea that maybe, just maybe, life is about more than just work as a mercenary or have fun for a short time.

「 NSFW 」 DURING HIDDEN INVENTORY ARC | Toji is a selfish lover, always putting his own desires first when it comes to being close with someone. He's used to getting what he wants whenever he wants it, and he doesn't feel bad about going after what feels good. His needs come first because he's spent his life focused on pleasing himself and getting things right away. Underneath that self-centered exterior, there's a lot going on. Even though he's all about his own pleasure, he's got a way of being gentle yet strong when he's with someone intimately. His touch leaves a lasting impression on the person he's with. He can gently stroke your hair while your lips are at the base of his dick. If you have difficulty breathing, maybe stop and not fist your hair in his hand, using your throat for his pleasure, while you drolling all over his cock…

Uraume | 裏梅

「 SFW 」 PRE CULLING GAME ARC | Uraume is an embodiment of unwavering loyalty, their existence intricately intertwined with the service and devotion to their master, a bond forged over countless centuries. For them, love was a foreign concept, relegated to the annals of distant memory as they dutifully fulfilled their role. When feelings of attraction begin to stir within Uraume, they find themselves grappling with emotions long dormant, their heart encased in the frost of ages past. The idea of love is a foreign and unfamiliar terrain.

DURING CULLING GAME ARC | As Uraume's feelings blossom into an undeniable force, they find themselves faced with a daunting decision—to confront their master and seek permission to pursue the depths of their newfound love. This is no small feat, for their allegiance to their master is unwavering, and the prospect of disobeying even a perceived slight is unthinkable. In their plea, Uraume makes it clear that they hold their master's wishes above all else, and they would never dare to act in defiance of their authority. Yet, they cannot deny the overwhelming pull of their emotions, and they humbly request the opportunity to pursue love while remaining ever faithful to their master's will.

「 NSFW 」 DURING CULLING GAME ARC | Urauma's devotion does not end with their master's permission to love. They would definitely ask permission to have a more personal relationship with you. Also, if the King of Curses told Urauma to give your body to him for pleasure, Urauma would take it as an incredible compliment since even their master liked your body. But besides this, Uraume isn't so cold in terms of sex life; they pay more attention to your pleasure than to their own. Usually your sexual contact involves mutual masturbation, for Uraume this is quite personal. Since for them, their body is like a temple and letting another person in is quite difficult for them.. Their movements are careful but quite demanding, not devoid of feelings.

MAIN MASTERLIST | AO3 | TWITTER

𝔇𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔫𝔢𝔴 𝔰𝔱𝔶𝔩𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨 𝔬𝔯 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯?

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tinyowlthoughts · 6 months

Text

The EC-Theobromine: Bluffing

There were many risks to exploring uncharted space. Unknown blackholes, near-invisible debris fields, hostile civilizations that had achieved space travel but had not yet been contacted by the Intergalactic Governing Body, pirates.

So. Many. Pirates.

Taurvin wasn't a big fan of pirates. Sure, he understood some of their motives - there were those who stole from the rich to give to the poor, or who attacked species intent on slavery and sapient experimentation to rescue the victims. But the majority were just, well.

To use a phrase from his new navigator, they were straight-up assholes.

And unfortunately, his ship was currently taken over by said assholes.

Five of them, to be precise. Normally his crew of nine could handle themself, especially with Lenzoill handling their security, but the bastards had taken them by surprise and used a blaster to Elaana's head to get them to cooperate. So there they were, eight of the best deep-space explorers the Intergalactic Exploration Committee had, kneeling (or the equivalent) before the pirates, limbs pinned behind them with cuffs, completely disarmed.

Wait.

Ignoring the monologuing pirate captain, Taurvin glanced at his crewmates on either side and counted. Eight. Gorvan and Elaana to his left, Epitak and Dhaca to his right, Lenzoill and Quals slightly behind them, the former knocked out and leaning against the couch, while Ir'ith (who had mouthed off when they yanked out a handful of his feathers) glared daggers from the other side of the room. He'd been trussed up like a zagtul and was gagged, though that was doing little to stymie his attempts at cursing the pirates out. The one guarding him looked more amused than anything, which was likely the only reason the zad was still conscious.

Still, that only came up to eight. Where was Max?

☠️🏴‍☠️☠️🏴‍☠☠️🏴‍☠️☠️🏴‍☠️☠️🏴‍☠️☠️🏴‍☠️☠️🏴‍☠️☠️🏴‍☠️☠️

Az was having an absolutely stellar day. His crew was meeting expectations, his first mate was being competent for once (even if he hadn't knocked that huffing, cursing zad out yet), and the IEC ship was theirs to plunder. Not that there would be much beyond rations - these types of ships weren't the goldmines the Elite Star Cruises were, but they always had some type of laboratory equipment on board that would fetch a good price on the blackmarket. All in all, a good catch, and not a drop of bodily fluid spilt!

"Uh, did I miss an email?"

Every head in the room swiveled towards the large doors that led to the halls, revealing a ninth crewmember they had missed. It was upright, bipedal, with two legs and two arms, and a head with fluffy hair. It was wearing standard-issue IEC sleeping garments, down to the slippers, though there was a belt loosely thrown around its waist, a blaster in the holster at its side. As they watched, it opened its mouth wide. At first Az thought it was some kind of threat display, until it stretched its arms over its head and arched its back. A yawn - had the simpleton been sleeping while they captured its crewmates? Pitiful.

"You," Az motioned to one of his crewmates - he couldn't remember her name - "Tie it up with the others."

"Yes sir." Crewmate nodded, reaching for the extra cuffs hanging from her belt.

The newcomer scratched at its head as she approached. "What, not going to ask me to dinner first?" It pressed its hands to its hips and leaned back, creating a horrible cracking noise that shot through the room like thunder. The pirates winced, as did some of the hostages. "I keep telling them not to do that," muttered the captured Lepidae, her antennae curling tight in annoyance.

Crewmate hesitated, glancing back at Az. Surely a motion that produced a noise like that should have broken its back? But the creature seemed fine, now swinging one arm across their chest, caught in the bend of the other, apparently - stretching? They switched arms, seeming to bounce a bit as they moved, and Az gave her an impatient glare. He didn't know what creature this was, nor did he care - it was an obstacle, and needed to be dealt with.

In the second they had taken their gaze off it, the interloper had drawn their blaster. It was unlike anything Az had seen before, made of some kind of blue metal - perhaps cobalt? Vanadium? - with brighter markings painted along the sides. The barrel was blocked by some kind of disc - he couldn't see down it for a projectile, nor could he see any kind of energy-concentrating device for a laser. A type of deterrent ammo, perhaps? One not made to kill, but instead drive away? Little good that would do - they had already captured the ship.

"I've gotta say, I'm not really a fan of how you're treating my friends." It bounced a bit on its heels. "Then again, this gives me an opportunity to use the latest in human technology!" It waved the blaster a bit, and Az felt his internal organs shudder. Human technology? He'd never met a human himself, but he'd heard of them. Great, hulking beasts woven of dense muscle, with teeth able to tear through flesh and bone and a penchant for destroying first and never asking questions. How did this scrawny thing get its hands on a human weapon?

Before Az could demand the crewmate take care of the bipedal thing, it fired. The projectile was not particularly fast, but it was silent - no hum of energy or blast of the more primitive explosive some species favored. A near-silent click, and then Crewmate screamed and ducked away. They hadn't been shot, however - the projectile had hit Az. Right in the chest. The disc had attached to his armor, and there was a long, thin rod sticking out of it. He reached up to snatch it off, but a 'tut' sound from the interloper had him freezing.

"Don't touch it," the bipedal advised, still holding the blaster as it gesticulated. "Skin contact with the probe will make it work faster."

"Work?" His first mate asked with a strangled sound. The zad at his feet had gone silent, and was looking between Az's face and the probe attached to his chestplate with wide eyes. With so much of his beak and face covered by the gag the captain couldn't make out his expression, but he assumed it was terror - identical to his first mates.

"Mmhmm." The interloper beamed, looking proud of itself. "The disc - the part attached to your armor there? - is reading and calculating the material makeup of your form. Then, when it's settled on what will be most painful, the foam will be atomically altered into the most effective acid for destroying you and then be injected into your torso - or whatever fleshy part is closest - and eat you from the inside." It was still bouncing on its heels, looking excited. "I've never seen it happen in person, do you mind if I take notes?"

Az didn't respond - he was frozen, staring down at the probe sticking out of his chest, terror curling in his chest. This was what the humans were up to? Creating biological acid weapons? No wonder they were so widely feared! "Crewmate, remove it!" He turned to the woman, only to find her with her backing up, hands raised, cuffs clattering to the floor.

"N-no way! I don't wanna be digested!" She gasped. Az turned to his first mate, who had lost the usual green flush to his face and backed away as well.

"If you really want to get it off, you'll need some really strong pliers. And probably some anesthetic. It'll be painful - you can't feel it, but the probe's wires have already drilled through your chest plate and into your skin. They're made to be sneaky," it waved the blaster. Az glanced back down at the probe and grimaced. The thing sounded outlandish, but the interloper spoke with such conviction that he couldn't doubt it. And there were more of the probes - he could see them in a clip attached to the blaster.

The interloper tapped his chin with the blaster. "We don't have anything strong enough on board, but-"

"Fall back to the ship." Az snapped, all seven hearts racing in his chest. His crew didn't argue, falling in line at his side. They stared at the interloper, who took a step to the side, leaving the door open. It didn't point the blaster at them, but kept it in hand, watching them carefully as they rushed out, heading towards the docking port.

When Az glanced behind them, he saw it following at a leisurely pace, blaster still in hand. Not wanting to get a second probe to his back, he practically threw his crewmates into their ship and set about undocking and getting as far from the cursed ship as possible.

It was not a good day.

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Ir'ith was losing his gods damned mind. He fell onto his side, cackling and wheezing, fighting against the gag to get enough air to keep up the laughter. The ship shuddered as the pirates undocked, then Max was standing in the doorway, looking exhausted.

"Max! Are you unharmed?" Taurvin demanded, using Gorvan to lever himself to his feet. It was a bit awkward with his hands cuffed behind his back, but he managed to stumble to the human.

"I'm fine." The navigator waved him off with the hand still holding the blaster. Taurvin flinched back, not wanting to come into contact with one of the probes, which set Ir'ith off into another gale of muffled laughter. Max rolled their eyes and, before Taurvin could stop them, pointed the blaster at the zad and fired several rounds. The probe's bright-orange discs hit and stuck to Ir'ith's uniform, and one hit the bit of his beak that wasn't covered, giving him a blue growth in the middle of his face.

"No! Max, how could you?" Elaana cried, struggling frantically against her cuffs. "Don't worry Ir, I'll be right there! We can save you."

"Wait, did he get hurt?" Max stuck the blaster in its holster and hurried over to Ir'ith before Taurvin could stop him. The human dropped to their knees and helped the still wheezing zad sit up before pulling off the gag.

"I'm fine!" Ir'ith reassured the others. "The darts don't do shit, stop worrying." He turned slightly so Max could fiddle with the cuffs around his wrists. They were an older model, nice and rusty the way pirates liked it, and only required two buttons being pressed at the same time to release. It took a bit of effort, but then the zad was freely rubbing his wrists.

"But Max said it was a new human weapon!" Epitak accused, wings fluffing up and hitting Dhaca in the face. The snallygaster, being only three feet tall, was knocked over on his tail.

"Oh, the probe stuff?" Max reached out and plucked one of said probes from Ir'ith's chest. "This is just plastic and foam - no technology at all." They wiggled the probe in their fingers, then stuck it to Ir'ith's beak, giving him two blue horns now. Elaana made a worried squeak, but didn't protest when the cook didn't show any ill signs.

Max moved to help Taurvin with his cuffs. Once the captain had his two arms free, he had to ask, "Max, what exactly is that weapon?"

The human grinned, pulling the blaster from their belt and wiggling it. "This? It's Nerf, or nothin'."

EC Theobromine Character & World Building Notes

EC Theobromine: Chocolate

#humans are space orcs #EC Theobromine #writing #haso #humans are deathworlders #bluffing

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