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#and I block simply because i just feel like blocking and rather not talk to people i feel that i wont vibe with
insanechayne · 8 months
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#I have so much I want to say but nothing I can actually articulate#how do I make you see how much you’re hurting me? how do I make you see how much I love you at the same time?#you grew a conscience too little too late and I was left to hang for it#I keep trying to be who you want but it feels like there’s no version of me that will make you happy#and I feel the distance growing between us every day because of how you’re pushing me away#but still you’ll say everything is fine and I just have to accept things the way they are#it doesn’t matter what I say or do because everything I say/do is always wrong in your eyes#I’m always fucking things up somehow and making you angry#so it’s at the point where I just have to stifle my feelings and swallow my pride and try to keep you happy#do you remember how we became friends? you reached out to me to help me with my anxiety from a post you stumbled across#but I feel that now if I were to share any of those kinds of feelings with you I’d be mostly ignored or it would start another fight#how can you say you’re always supportive when there’s no way to talk to you when I really need you because you’re simply not here?#how can you be mad at me for wanting more time with you when there are days you only send me one message and nothing else?#and still the thought of losing you hurts so much that I’d rather just concede to whatever you want#I’d rather let you crush me and dictate how our whole relationship will go than see you walk away from me#I know that’s so unhealthy but I don’t care anymore because I just need you that much#I hate this stupid connection we seem to have and how we’re still so drawn to each other even when we’re hurt and angry#it would be so much easier if you were just some guy I could block#but you’re not because you’ve become my best friend and that in itself is so horribly pathetic it makes me sick#I just can’t get these thoughts out and so I feel sick and anxious and I just want to sleep this all away#how do I say any of this to you? i don’t think I could really#personal
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kaijuposting · 9 months
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"Saw traps for people with moral OCD" is a phrase that has embedded myself into my brain because, well, Saw traps for people with moral OCD are everywhere.
Stuff that basically amounts to...
"You have to listen to my opinions on [issue], or else you don't care about [issue]. (Constantly talks about how people like you are the absolute worst.)"
Anything that's functionally like, "you have to let me tear you down over things you can't control or you're a bad person."
Anything that's functionally like, "you have to let me vent to you whenever and however I want or else you're a bad person."
"If you enjoy X media/trope, you just hate Y people."
"Everyone knows that X thing is harmful/hateful; if you engaged in it, it's just because you were fine with perpetuating hate/harm."
"You should have just known better/should know this already!"
This thread over here talks about the inherent issues of putting this kind of stuff out there. The TL;DR is that it really only works on people who are mentally unwell and have poor boundaries, while just pissing off everyone else. It really doesn't matter if you're technically correct; you're still attacking people, and that means they're not wrong to block you.
I think that many of these Saw traps are created when people effectively write posts directed toward people who don't want to help, rather than the ones who do. Like, if you catch yourself writing an angry, shame-laden post, ask yourself: who are you writing it for and what are the odds you're going to change their minds? If your mental image is some smug fuck or angry reactionary, you're writing for the wrong person. Write for the person who's curious, who's willing to learn.
Also? Work on figuring out how to transmute negative feelings into positive, encouraging rhetoric. EG:
"Why is there no X positivity?" -> "Let's hear it for X!"
"No one cares about Y problem!" -> "Hey, we need more recognition of Y problem" or "I haven't seen many people talking about Y problem, so here's some info on what's up."
"If you don't reblog this, you don't care about [group]" -> "Please reblog this, it would mean a lot for us [group]."
And if you're really super duper frustrated and want to vent with a lot of nasty words and sentiments? Consider taking it to a private vent channel or a journal or somewhere that a stranger with moral OCD/scrupulosity isn't likely to run across it.
Remember, most people don't want to hurt anyone. More people are ignorant than malicious. People naturally want to do the right thing, so if you feel like you have to guilt them or shame them into it, there's probably a fundamental communication issue somewhere, or they simply lack the context to understand why what you're saying is so important.
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zriasstuff · 2 months
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Mercy-Draco Malfoy x reader smut
Warnings: 18+ mature oneshot (1.7k words), barely any plot; just porn, sub!draco
To the person that requested a Draco Malfoy fanfic like 10 days ago: here it finally is
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Draco inhales sharply through his teeth as you go over his bleeding wound with a cotton ball. You had told him a thousand times already to not get into a fight again, yet he just wouldn’t listen and did so nonetheless.
“C'mon they deserved it, you understand right?”, he tried to justify his actions, to which you shook your head in disapproval.
“You can’t just go around acting like a dick and then expect people to clean up after you all the time”, you lecture him, hoping he’ll see his wrongdoings.
“Well for now I got you, don’t I?”, he smugly retorts, hissing along the way as the cotton ball touches his wound again. What a prick he could be sometimes.
“For now”, you warn him sternly. Draco was well aware he’d have to play nice with you, his close friend who genuinely helped him when he needed it.
You, of course, didn't want to enable Draco, but he did show his gratitude in pleasant ways. Ways such as treating you to stuff in Hogsmeade, helping you with homework, sweet talking you to professors, and so on.
Today's wound landed on his lower torso, something he’d gotten from a guy on the Gryffindor quidditch team, whom he insulted as mudblood. Being a pure blood yourself, you were aware of your guys' hate towards muggles, but you didn’t condone it.
Seeing his pained facial expression, pulling all types of grimaces, you say “I know it hurts, but that will only help you to learn your lesson.”
“And what lesson is that? That I have to show less mercy next time?”, Draco stupidly grins when failing to acknowledge his fault.
“Sure, tough guy”, you roll your eyes at him.
Now, he was almost all fixed up and you just had to put a large, squared band aid over his cleaned wound.
As you lean in towards his lower torso, you hear a huffed grunt coming from Draco, who is looking a bit thrown.
“What is it, did I hurt you?”, you ask him.
Draco wasn’t hurt. More so, he was rather feeling something completely opposite.
Innerly, he started replaying the moment in his head of when your tits made the lightest contact with his dick. They had brushed over his groin, when you were leaning in to put the band aid on the wound.
Of course you hadn’t noticed, but he certainly couldn’t forget. His mind was going through all sorts of dirty, nasty, mental images. That one little touch caused all restraint to fly out the window, and all he could think of was how you would look naked, tits uncovered, bouncing in front of him.
How would fuck your tits and afterwards paint them with his cum. The position you were in also allowed you to give him a perfect blowjob. Draco was sitting on a chair and you knelt in front of him because it was the easiest way for you to treat him.
Surely, you wouldn’t have imagined that this position would cause his poor mind to fantasize to such naughty extent.
It became all too much in his head, such a reaction from so little touch. Was he really that horny and desperate? Draco tried to block it out, to not make this weird.
But seeing you like this, having felt you in such a way, simply made you too irresistible.
Draco didn’t even know what got into him, but he bent down promptly, grabbed your ponytail and told you exactly what he wanted- no craved right now.
“Please suck me off right now”, he suddenly muttered in your ear, giving you the most troubled look you’ve ever seen.
“What the fu- what the hell is wrong with you?!”, you exclaim at his words. You couldn’t fully believe what you just heard.
Draco pulls back again, letting go of your ponytail in the process. He seemed slightly ashamed, but you could tell he wouldn’t let go of this easily. Hell, if he played his cards right…
He himself couldn’t even fully grasp why he wanted this so badly all of a sudden. His mind was definitely fucking with him. But with all the stress he was under- being involved with the Death Eaters, and having no way of venting- all he needed was you right now.
“Please, just do it?”, he appeared defeated. You’d never seen him so frantic before.
“Look, I really need this, I need you. You’ll help me with anything, right?”
Needing to come up with a response, you go over all the possibilities in your head. You arrive at a well thought out conclusion seconds later.
“You’ll explain yourself later”, you firstly demand from him. You saw that Draco was completely out of his element, but that’s not why you agreed. Doing this for him would have him at your mercy, maybe you would enjoy holding this over his head later on. Win win, right?
“Ready?”, you coo at him before your hand makes contact with the growing bulge in his pants. Draco winces a little, letting out a relieved moan.
From all the pent up frustration, he desperately needed this. While you stroke around his bulge, he already starts jerking his growing length against your palm. That’s when you give his cock a warning squeeze.
“This isn’t up to you”, you talk down to him. Innerly you loved every second of this. Draco going from harsh and brassy to obedient.
Abruptly, he stops moving, so you carry on with palming his cock until it’s visibly hard through his pants. Here and there a little wince escapes his mouth, wanting immediate pleasure instead of tedious teasing.
After enough playing around, you start to unzip his pants with your mouth. You make sure to glance at him while doing it, just to see how crazy it drives him. His stunned reaction was so worth it.
Every second he relished and wished you would just take him in already. When you remove the last layer of clothing, you’re shocked to see how much bigger he is than you’d ever encountered. From your eyes widening and your mouth gaping slightly, he could tell his size turned you on.
His cock was incredibly hard and leaking drops of precum already from all the teasing, practically aching to be sucked and toyed with.
Your tongue licks a long stripe along his shaft first, which evokes a small whimper from Draco. Instantly he shuts himself up, wanting to control himself, but you want to hear more of those delicious sounds.
So, you keep peppering his cock with kitten licks, especially at his leaking tip. No longer able to hold himself back, Draco fully lets himself go and lets out a breathy whimper.
“Please stop with the teasing already”, he whines after having already endured that much.
Luckily you are feeling generous, so you slide him into your mouth, his big cock disappearing inch by inch. When it glided fully in, it hit the back of your throat, making you gag.
Draco had to forcefully keep his hands on his thighs, otherwise he’d destroy your throat right now. His cock felt so good in your warm, wet mouth. He was amused, seeing you gag from his length.
Not wanting to back out, you ignore your gag reflex. You keep your tongue flat, and start bobbing your head up and down on his cock. Instantly, you feel the saliva running down from the corners of your mouth.
It was messy and sloppy, and the whimpers coming from Draco were heavenly. While trying your hardest to not gag, you continued sucking and twirling your tongue around him like a lollipop. Of course you made sure that his balls didn’t feel left out either. With one free hand you gently massaged them, rolling them in your hand.
Soon enough the stimulation had gotten to Draco. The way you glanced up at him, doe eyed, salivating on cock, awakened some strange feelings in him.
A few more seconds of pure ecstasy, and he started violently bucking his hips, signaling his oncoming orgasm.
More uncontrollable whimpers and curses left his mouth. Finally, you tipped him over the edge when you let his cock hit the back of your throat repeatedly.
His ropes of cum quickly dripped down your throat- shame that you could barely taste it as he was in so deep.
“That was fucking amazing”, he sighs at you, completely out of breath.
With his cock still hanging out, even though it’s soft, you have a fun idea. You spit in your mouth, and as Draco watches, he has no idea what you’re up to.
His eyes widen, when he sees your hand move towards his cock again.
He curses loudly, when you start to pump his shaft. It was absolutely too much for him, especially after he just came.
“Tell me, did you come?”, you ask Draco in a teasing tone. He didn’t answer as he was too focused on the mix of pleasure and pain that was being inflicted on his poor, overused cock.
Completely ignoring the question, you ask it again, yet when there was no answer this time you start pumping him even faster than before. “FUCK”, Draco yelps out, as he clings onto his chair with both hands.
“Earlier when you came in my mouth, did you ask for permission?”. Of course he didn’t, that’s why you asked.
“No”, he whines, looking dazzled. “Stop fucking with me”, he groans, but secretly he enjoyed being messed around with. Maybe that’s what he needed, someone assertive, yet caring.
The agonizing pain was becoming too overpowering second by second.
“Ok, please let me off, I’ll be good next time”, he continues whining in his needy tone.
“Who said there’ll be a next time”, you coo, “and don’t lie, you’re enjoying this”. You continue torturing his cock until he finally can’t take it anymore, twitching uncontrollably in your hand.
As you keep roughly squeezing and pumping his cock, Draco painfully comes a second time. He throws his head back before looking at you again, meanwhile you seductively licked his cum on your hand. In the end, Draco managed to huff out a hoarse “thank you”.
After this blissful experience, Draco would be making sure, that there would in fact be a next time.
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alotofpockets · 4 months
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Loved | Alessia Russo
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Pairing: Alessia Russo x Williamson!Reader
Summary: During your concert you surprise your girlfriend with the song that you wrote about her.
Masterlist | Woso masterlist | Words: 2.2k
You loved being on tour, playing your music for your fans, and traveling the world at the same time. However, there was also a downside to this part of your career. You had to miss your favorite people for long periods of time. Of course, there were many facetime calls with them, but it wasn’t the same as having them beside you. There were only a few shows left on your European tour before you’d fly back home to London, where you’d perform your final show at The O2. 
While on tour, you used every moment that you weren’t performing or out exploring the cities you were in on writing new songs. Being away from your loved ones sucked, but it also helped you in your songwriting. Your thoughts often on the memories you created with them. Right now you are strumming rhythms on your acoustic guitars, as your mind wanders to the first time that you met your girlfriend.
It was a little over three years ago. You arrived at your shared home with your sister around 2am, after being on tour. Leah had insisted on picking you up from the airport, but you declined time and time again, since you knew she would have training in the morning. After leaving your bags in the living room, you quietly made your way over to your bedroom. Upon entering you noticed that your sister was sound asleep in your bed. You didn’t think much of it, maybe she just missed you. So, you head over to her room but when you opened the door slightly, you noticed that her bed was occupied. It was too dark to see who it was, but you softly closed the door to Leah’s bedroom and made your way back to your own. After finding some clothes to sleep in, you slipped into your bed beside your sister. The moment that your head hit the pillow, you were gone, the tiredness of touring catching up to you.
Your night wasn’t long, as Leah’s 6am alarms woke you abruptly, “Leah, please shut that off.” Leah jumped at the sound of your voice. “Don't ever scare me like that again.” She said with a warning look. You simply shrug, “You’re the one in my bed.” Leah quickly turned off the loud ringing of her alarm and fell back on the bed hugging you tight. “I can’t believe you’re back, I’ve missed you so much.” You smile into her shoulder, “I’ve missed you too, Leah.” Your sister is about to get up when you pull her back down, “Are you not going to tell me who the girl sleeping in your bed is?” Leah rolls her eyes jokingly, “Of course I was, I just figured you wanted to sleep some more first. Her name is Alessia Russo, she-” You interrupt her, “Just joined Arsenal.” You were an avid football fan, and just like Leah, your favorite team had been Arsenal from a young age, so even when you were away you kept taps on your team. Leah nods, “Yeah, I told her she could stay here until she finds a place of her own, which worked out great because the house was feeling rather empty without you here.” You act hurt, “You just replaced me?” Both of you laugh, basking in the feeling of being together again. “How about after practice the three of us get lunch together, so I can introduce the two of you properly?” You nod with a smile, “That sounds nice.” Leah changes into her training gear before heading downstairs, you hear her and Alessia talking faintly but soon fall back asleep, not even hearing them leave. 
From the first moment you met Alessia in person, the two of you connected instantly, as Leah had expected. During the lunch you had gotten to know Alessia a bit, as well as told them all about your tour. Alessia moved out about a week later, finding a nice apartment a few blocks over. Leah had been with Arsenal for years, and her teammates were as much her friends, as they were yours. So, like always, you met up with the girls often, getting closer and closer with Alessia as the months went by, until eventually she had asked you on a date. 
The first few months of dating Alessia were on your mind as you worked on the song. You both had to learn to speak each other’s love languages, as they were different from each other. Even while figuring out how to best show your love to the other, you felt nothing but love in whatever way Alessia showed it. You start testing out some lyrics, writing down the ones you like. When you had the general idea of the song figured out, the lyrics came easy, as did your love for Alessia. 
Before your flight back to London, you finished up the rough version of the song, and could not wait to sing it for Alessia. From the airport, you went straight to Colney, knowing the team’s training session was in progress. You stand to the side of the field as you watch the girls play, having gone unnoticed so far. When the whistle is blown to signal that their drill is done, Alessia is the first to notice you. She comes running your way and jumps into your arms. “You’re back!” You hold her tight and spin her around. “Hi, Lessi baby, I’ve missed you.” After putting her back down you share a short kiss before Leah joins in on the hug. Alessia stepped aside, but not going far, to give you a moment with your sister. One by one all the girls came to greet you, before heading back to training. Alessia kissed you once more before returning to training too, a “I’m so happy that you’re back.” Shouted your way from the striker that was running back to the field.
Once training was over, you headed back home. You still lived in the same apartment as three years ago, the only difference was that Alessia had moved back in, now sharing your room. Leah and Lia offer to pick up something for lunch, while you and Alessia have a moment together. You take her up to your shared room, and ask for some much needed cuddles. 
When you hear the front door open, you head downstairs to have lunch all together, and spend a couple of hours catching up. You check your phone to see the time, “Oh, I have to go in a bit for sound check. Leah, how many of you were coming tonight?” Leah starts counting on her fingers, “Let’s see, so it will be us three, as well as Beth, Kim, Laura, and Jen. So, that’s seven, for sure and a few of the girls weren’t sure yet. Can you put us down for twelve to be sure?” You smile, feeling grateful for how many of your friends were going to be able to make it. “Of course, I’ll see you guys there.” You hug Leah and Lia, before you kiss Alessia bye. 
Performing in your home country was always very special, it was also your favorite place to sing your song ‘Home’. “Thank you all for an incredible night so far.” You say looking out into the crowd. “As many of you know, London is very special to me. London is home.” The crowd erupts in cheer as they know what is coming next. “It’s an extra special evening, as there are a lot of people here tonight, that make London a home.” You look over to the friends and family section where your friends are gathered. “You know who you are.” The smile on your face grows when you see the girls cheering back at you.
You start strumming your guitar, “This is ‘Home’, hope you enjoy it.” The rest of the band joins in. 
‘Cause they say home is where your heart is set in stone
It’s where you go when you’re alone
It’s where you go to rest your bones
It’s not just where you lay your head
It’s not just where you make your bed
As long as we’re together, does it matter where we go?
You step away from the microphone, letting the crowd sing the rest of the chorus for you.
Home
Home
Home
Home
You continue the rest of your show with a few more songs from your setlist, as well as more interaction with the crowd, soaking in the last concert you’ll be giving for a while. The evening was coming to an end, having played the last song on your setlist but you weren’t done yet. “Everyone, can we get a big round of applause for Jimmy on the drums, Sarah on guitar, Brian on keys, and last but not least, Mandy on base?” You bow to them, as the crowd claps and cheers for them. The band makes their way off-stage, and you pick up your acoustic guitar for one last time this evening.
“I have one last song for you.” The enthusiasm from the crowd was immaculate, and you hadn’t even told them the surprise yet. “So, I have written a song over the past couple of days, and I would love to play a little bit from it for you tonight.” After the crowd calmed down again, you continued. “I have literally just finished this, it has not yet been recorded, and no one has heard it yet. With that being said..” You let your eyes drift back to the friends and family box, “Alessia, baby, this one's for you. This is ‘Loved’ for the first time ever.” You play the first few chords of the songs, while you watch your friends tease Alessia for her jaw dropping at the news. Alessia’s eyes stay focussed on you, as she watches you with a big smile on her face, seeing you become one with your music. Your eyes closed as you were strumming your guitar. Before you start singing, you open your eyes and lock them with Alessia’s.
I don’t need a hundred roses waiting by the front door
I don’t need a fancy house in the hills
You could rope the moon and bring me all the stars in heaven
It won’t change how I feel
Even though the arena was filled with thousands of people, the crowd disappeared around you, as you were singing to just Alessia. A moment you would never forget.
You don’t have to be a modern-day Shakespeare
You don’t have to be anything you’re not
You don’t have to give me diamonds to impress me
Just give me your heart
Make me feel loved, make me feel beautiful
Make me feel dance around the room Cinderella kind of magical
Make me believe that I’m all that you’ll ever need
Hold me close and make me feel a million kinds of wonderful
Baby, your touch, it’s more than enough
Make me feel loved
You were pulled out of your moment with Alessia as the crowd went wild once you finished the song. After taking a bow, you speak your final words to the crowd. “Thank you all so much for making tonight the best ending to an amazing tour. Thank you for coming out!” With that you run off the stage. 
Only a few moments after handing your guitar over to the crew, and another crew member taking your in-ear monitors from you, Alessia came running up to you, and jumped into your arms for the second time today. When you place her down on the ground again, you see tears in her eyes. “I love you so much, that song was amazing, and you are amazing. That was a beautiful performance, and I cannot believe that you wrote a song about me and then performed it in front of twenty thousand people.” You hugged your girlfriend tight. “I love you too. You inspire me everyday, darling. So, I wanted to do something special.” You share a sweet kiss with her, before taking her hand and walking down to your dressing room, where the rest of your friends were waiting.
You were so happy to be surrounded by your favorite people again, soaking in their laughter, smiles and hugs. Some girls wanted to go out for drinks, but you told them you had to rain check, since you were so tired. Alessia picked up on your words and offered to take you home, an offer you gladly accepted. She walked you to her white Mercedes, loving the opportunity to drive you around once again. Her hand was resting on your thigh, as the two of you listened to the radio. 
Back home all you want to do is take a shower and fall asleep in Alessia’s arms. Alessia being the amazing girlfriend that she was, knew exactly what you needed. “Why don’t you head up, baby, I’ll join you in a bit.” She pecks your lips before heading into the kitchen. When you’re done with your shower, clad in sweats and Alessia’s hoodie, you enter your bedroom, where Alessia was sitting in some comfy clothes surrounded by your favorite snacks. “I know you want to sleep, but your body needs some food after all the energy you put into that show.” You smile appreciatively, “You’re the best.” 
After enjoying the food that Alessia prepared, you cuddle into her side. Quickly falling asleep in the arms of your favorite person.  
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straykeedz · 7 months
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day 11: changbin + choking
©straykeedz
tw: mentions of cheating (no one actually cheats); changbin smacks reader on the ass twice; unprotected piv sex (don’t do that at home 🤨); rough sex; changbin calls reader slut during sex; clit play; creampie; ♡
wc: 2,5k;
wrote this on the phone while on the bus (not my smartest move lol) so let me know if there’s any mistakes/typos!
this is part of my kinktober masterlist. you can find my regular masterlist here (tho it will not be updated until the end of kinktober) ♡
🔖 (open): @linos-kitten ; @luneskies ; @kxcies-blog ; @idunnomanmynamewastaken ; @cessixja ; @stolasisyourparent ; @kookiesbunny ; @xoxo-xoxo-bunny ; @ivyskzsworld ; @mal-lunar-28 ; @leetaste ; @sunnykynnie ; @channiesgoodgirl ; @seonghwatoothless ; @mrsminho ; @seungminluv3 ; @jin-from-the-block ; @aaasia111 ; @sulkygyu ; @whosanaanyway ; @y-ur--I ; @vixensss ; @nightimescapes ; @freckleboilix ; @dreamingaboutjisung ; @yourbeomiebear ; ♡
to make sure i add you to the taglist, your age must be clearly visible on your profile. also, empty blogs will not be added - add at least a profile picture to your blog so that i’ll know you’re not a bot. ♡
smut below the cut, minors dni.
You’re in bed, cuddled up next to each other, showing Changbin some of the reels you saved when the texts pop up - and of course he sees them, how could he not? Not because he’s jealous or controlling or anything really - he’s just curious. Which you don’t usually mind, you actually find it cute, but let’s just say you’d rather dig yourself a hole in the ground than let him read that message. 
girlfriend <3: i think you should just tell changbin
girlfriend <3: im sure he’ll understand
Your best friend couldn’t have picked a more inadequate time, really - not to mention the poor choice of words. You can feel Changbin’s body freeze at the same time as a confused frown appears on his face - his beautiful smile vanishing immediately, replaced by a serious expression. He takes your phone in his hand, inspecting the messages your friend sent without opening the chat, and you have to admit - it looks pretty bad. 
“What… What should you tell me?” Changbin is beyond confused. Since when do you keep things from him? You don’t do that, you don’t keep things from each other, so what is your friend talking about?
To be honest - it’s not as bad as it looks. However, you’re embarrassed to reveal the real reason behind those messages, and you seriously think you’d die of embarrassment if he opened your chat with your best friend.
“Ah, it’s nothing, really. Don’t worry about it.”, you try to dismiss the question, smiling at him a bit awkwardly, but he doesn’t relax. At all. In fact, he looks even more nervous now, and he doesn’t know what to expect. 
“Oh… okay.”, he mutters, handing you your cellphone back, visibly upset by your weird behavior. He shifts uncomfortably in his place, distancing from you, fidgeting with his bracelet. 
Now it’s your turn to look at him with a confused frown, because if there’s one thing you know about Changbin is that he loves cuddles and wouldn’t turn them down for anything in the world. So you sit on the bed, locking your phone and placing it behind you, which makes Changbin even more suspicious. 
“Hey… what’s up?”, you ask, sensing his nervousness, taking his hand in yours, but he doesn’t intertwine your fingers with his like he usually does - he doesn’t snatch his hand away, he simply lets you hold it, passively.
“Did you… did you cheat on me?”, he blurts out after a few seconds of silence, snapping his head up in your direction to meet your eyes. 
You stare at him in shock, rising your eyebrows and widening your eyes because you can’t believe what he just said. “Cheat on you?”, you repeat, and it sounds even more absurd. “What are you talking about?”, you can’t hide the surprise in your tone. 
Changbin furrows his eyebrows, then lowers his gaze to his hands and sighs. “I don’t know, you…”, he trails, and hates how vulnerable he sounds right now. “You don’t usually keep things from me - we don’t do that, so I just thought that… maybe that’s why you wouldn’t tell me what’s going on…”
God. You didn’t mean to fuck things up like this or make him feel insecure about your relationship, it wasn’t your intention. You just felt embarrassed to show him the chat with your best friend because, well… let’s just say, there’s a lot of stuff in that chat - stuff you’ve discussed with her but not directly with him, and you’re afraid he won’t take it well.
Eventually, you realize that the only way to fix this mess is to just show him. So you reach for your phone, unlock it and then open the chat with your best friend. Then, hand him your phone, but he wouldn’t take it. 
“You don’t have to.”, he mumbles, still not looking at you. “It’s- I trust you.”, he was going to say something along the line of It’s okay, but stopped himself before he could finish the sentence.
You sigh, then let your phone fall on the mattress right beside him, chat still open. You startle him and take his hands in yours, hoping it’ll get him to look you in the eyes. It doesn’t.
“Baby.”, you whisper. Still nothing. “Changbin.”, you call his name and this time he finally meets your eyes. “I love you and I’m not cheating on you, I promise.”
He nods, forcing a smile. You take a deep breath. Yes, it’s time to tell him.
“Hyuna was referring to… A thing I confessed to her…”, your cheeks turns pink. “That I want you to do to me.”
Changbin frowned.
“In bed.”, you clarify.
“Ah.”
Now it was his turn to blush.
“And I was embarrassed to ask you because it’s not something we usually do and I was scared you would think I was a freak and-“, you start to ramble, and he places both his hands on your shoulders to stop your train of thought.
“Yah, calm down, jagi.” Changbin looks you in the eye as he caressed your shoulders. “First of all: I could never think of you as a freak, understood?” You nod. “Good. Now, what is it that you want me to do to you?”
You gulp. You weren’t expecting him to be so straightforward.
“I want you to… be… rough.”, you whisper the last word, and he doesn’t really catch what you said.
“What?”
“I want you to be rough.”, you say, more bravely now.
He looks taken aback, and he is. This is new.
“Rough?”, he repeats, and you nod. “As in…?”
“As in: I want you to spank me and- and call me your slut and choke me and-“
“Woah there. Slut? Choke you?”, he asks dumbfounded, eyes widened in pure shock. However, he can clearly feel his cock stir in his pants at the thought.
You nod, biting your lip, you’re sure your whole face is red by now. On one hand, you weren’t expecting your night to go like this; on the other, you’re happy you finally managed to tell Changbin what has been going on inside your head for a while now.
“Yeah, I… I’d really like that.”, you admit, lowering your gaze.
Your sex life with Changbin is pretty vanilla, you had to admit. Not that you don’t like it - because you do, you really do. It’s just that sometimes you find yourself craving for more. Sweet lovemaking is perfect, but sometimes all you really want is for him to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck your mercilessly.
“And you told Hyuna and not me.”
You don’t really know what to say to that, so your gaze drops to your hands. “I’m sorry.”, you mumble.
“Oh, I don’t think you’re sorry, jagi.” Changbin says, and you can’t see the mischievous grin on his face. Then, he grips your hips, squeezing the soft flesh. “But you will be.”, he grunts, biting his lip as he lands a firm slap on your ass cheek, making you yelp in surprise, and you can already feel yourself getting wet, your arousal soaking your panties.
“Baby…”, you whimper, moving your hips to grind against him, feeling his cock getting harder.
“How long have you been complaining about your sex life with her?”, he grunts, latching his mouth to your neck, earning a choked moan from you as he licks and sucks your skin.
“I- I wasn’t complaining.”, you try to defend yourself, but your brain can’t formulate coherent thoughts right now, not when he’s pressing his hard-on against you, not when he has his mouth on your neck.
“Oh, I think you were.“, he smirks, then releases the grip he has on your neck, bringing his hand around your throat, wrapping his fingers around your throat - albeit lightly, not applying any sort of pressure.
He leaves a series of kisses that go from your neck to your jawline and then to your ear. “My baby wants to be fucked like a slut, doesn’t she?”, he grunts.
You buckle your hips against his at the filthy word that leaves his mouth, it’s the first time you hear him saying something so dirty to you - and it feels better than you thought.
“Yeah.”, you whine, kicking your head back, exposing your neck to him, and his grips tightens a bit, still pretty light.
“Mhhh, you want me to be rough, yeah?”, he keeps teasing you, his hand gripping your ass before he lands another slap, this time a bit harder, on your ass cheek.
“Yeah, baby.”, you whimper.
“Then lie down on the bed, slut.”, he demands with a grunt.
In a matter of seconds, you find yourself lying on your back on Changbin’s bed, completely naked, your panties hooked on your ankle. Changbin’s kneeling between your legs, in only his boxers and t-shirt - but quickly proceeds to remove it, revealing his toned pecs. His cock is looking incredibly hard, confined in his boxers, and you have to admit you can’t wait to feel it inside of you.
“How rough?” Changbin asks you as he slides his boxers down his thighs, freeing his length, which slaps on his lower abdomen, tip red and leaking pre-cum already, balls looking deliciously full.
“However you want.”, you whisper, biting your lower lip as you watch him getting closer to you.
“Mhh, you’ll let me do whatever I want to you?”, he grunts, one hand on your knee and the other gripping his cock. Then, he uses his cockhead to slap your clit, which makes your body jolt.
You nod. “Yeah, you can do whatever you want, baby, please.”, you whine. “I need you inside.”
“I love it - seeing you so desperate for my cock.”, he aligns his tip with your entrance, coating it in your arousal. “My slut.”, he grunts, before pushing inside, your tight walls wrapping around him as he enters you at an excruciatingly slow pace until he bottoms out.
You let out an obscene sound - the feeling of having him finally inside combined with him calling you that is driving you wild, making your head spin.
The first couple of thrusts inside you are slow, letting you the time to adjust to his length and girth, before he starts to snap his hips against yours faster, sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room together with your whimpers and the wet sounds your pussy is making.
When he wraps his fingers around your throat - you swear you see stars, even though he’s not really gripping it, it’s more of a light, constant presence around it, but you want more.
“Tighter.”, you moan.
He pauses his movements inside of you, looking at you with a worried look on his face. “Are you… sure?”
You nod, looking him in the eye so that he knows you’re being serious. “I can take it, I swear.”, you moan. “I want it so bad, baby, been wanting it all this time.”
The grip on your neck tightens, albeit not too much - Changbin’s too scared to hurt you. “Yeah?”, he grunts, slamming his hips against yours, hard, his cock entering you deep and hard, reaching places you didn’t even know existed. “Been thinkin’ about this?”
“Mhh, yeah.”, you nod, closing your eyes and parting your lips as a shiver runs all over your body after a particular hard thrust. “Been wanting you to fuck me like this for ages.”
Changbin can feel his balls tighten, signaling he’s close to his orgasm. To be honest, he didn’t really think he’d like it - calling you names and fucking you this hard, but you proved him wrong.
He immediately brings his thumb on your clit - wanting to pleasure you before cumming, so he starts to draw small circles on your most sensitive spot, and he does it fast, sensing he’s not gonna last much longer.
“Harder, baby.”, you beg him, fisting the sheets beneath you. “Fucking choke me, Bin.”, you cry.
Seeing you so desperate is the last straw for Changbin, and he decides to give you what you asked for - so he tightens the grip he has around your neck while pounding into you hard and fast.
“You’re gonna-“, you’re cut off by a whimper. “You’re gonna make me cum. Harder.”, you beg.
“That’s right, cum around my cock.”, he groans, his expert fingers moving even faster. “You’re such a slut for me - my slut.”
You release around him mere seconds later, after he tightens his grip even more. Your orgasm is intense, breathtaking, and he washes all over you - making your whole body tremble and your eyes roll back in your skull as a series of loud sounds escape your lips.
“Fuck, baby, I’m almost there-“ Changbin pants, relentlessly thrusting inside of you. “You’re gonna take all of my cum, aren’t you?”
You nod, clenching around him impossibly hard.
“Of course you are, you’re such a good slut for me.”, you moan once again, pleased that he’s enjoying this as much as you have and still are.
When he cums, he cums hard - hips smacking against yours before he halts his movements completely, filling you up with his release. Then, he remembers his fingers are still wrapped around your throat, and he’s quick to let go - allowing you to breath properly as you both come off of your highs.
“Was it good?”, he pants, letting his body fall next to yours on the mattress - the both of you sweaty and exhausted.
“Good?”, you ask, dumbfounded. “I can’t feel my body.”, you giggle, rolling onto your side to place your head on his chest. “Did you like it?”, you mumble against his skin, feeling already sleepy.
“Didn’t think I would like it this much, honestly.”, he chuckled, kissing you on top of your head, wrapping his arm around your figure. “You should keep things from me more often if we end up fucking like this after.”
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mitsies · 7 months
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❊ one more time! - michael kaiser . . kaiser thinks that he was destined to meet you in this lifetime.
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it's january when kaiser firsts asks you out. and it's january, when, in response, you laugh in his face and decline.
he'd met you in a coffee shop. your aunt's coffee shop, to be specific. he'd been a regular for a while but had never seen you there before. sitting at a booth in the back, by a window, rare winter sunlight kissed your cheeks and bathed you in a brilliant soft white light.
eyes dead-set on your textbook and laptop, sitting on the small table in front of you, he watches. kaiser thinks you're just so cute, with your fingers thrumming against the ceramic mug that holds something light brown and steaming, and with your headphones blocking everything but your notes out. actually, he's so enamoured that he ends up walking right into a table.
with a rather unattractive 'oof,' he hunches and grabs the table with both hands to stop it from rattling; unfortunately for him, the damage is done. the sweet older barista is laughing at him. customers in line snicker. and you? you look up from your work, blink, and then crack a small smile. and oh, kaiser thinks his bruised ego and battered side are all worth it now. because you smiled at him. and god, it was the prettiest thing he's ever seen.
in line to order, he's thinking about you the whole time, and stealing furtive glances (that he hopes are more subtle than they feel) back at your table. and at the counter, he orders a caffé mocha instead of his usual large iced chai latte with oat milk, 1 pump of caramel syrup, and 3 pumps of sugar-free vanilla syrup. the barista, who knows him from his daily overly-complex orders, gives him a raised eyebrow. kaiser simply shrugs and smiles. he tells her that he's testing a hypothesis. she gives him the stink eye and upcharges him.
once his drink is up, he's on the move, taking confident strides over to your table, where he asks, "is it okay if i sit here?"
and karma is in his favour today, because when you look up and around, the café is busy and bustling and the tables are all full. and he thinks that if cool guys swooned, he'd be swooning hard as you give him the tiniest, polite smile and a brief "sure" in response.
he thinks he's the smoothest man in the world, really, as he takes a seat across from you (like a date) and glances at your beverage. it's the same shade of caramel-ly brown, same kind of mug, same everything. he's fairly sure he's got the same drink as you-- a perfect conversation starter, just like he planned. kaiser clears his throat. "you order a caffé mocha? me too."
you look up again and glance at his drink before turning to him. "uh, no. not quite."
damn. kaiser's really done himself in, now. but he's cool. he can play it smooth. "really? what do you order, then?"
he then moves to shift his hands and, with an incredible lack of grace for a professionally-trained sportsman, he knocks his drink into his lap, spilling the lukewarm beverage all over his white sweater and jeans. he curses under his breath, and then remembers he has a really, really cute person he wants to impress, so he sucks up the embarrassment and grins (grimaces, more like) at you. "i don't suppose you ordered some napkins, too."
you let out a huff of laughter that makes him forget about his permanently ruined sweater as you fish around in your bag for a small, cloth napkin which you hand to him. "hopefully your sweater isn't too stained."
he hums. and a small smile takes over his face. "so, do you give a handkerchief to every guy who spills his coffee, or am i special?"
you raise your eyebrows in amusement. "you're the first guy whose spilled his coffee on himself while trying to talk to me. so i guess you're special."
kaiser beams, and he's sure satisfaction makes his grin grow on his face when he catches you flustering ever-so-slightly at his smile. "that's what i like to hear."
"what about you? you come here to impress strangers often?"
"only the ones i want to take out on a date."
and that's when it happens. that's where you laugh. and he's sure he looks appalled, absolutely shocked, when you stop, and say "sorry, no thanks."
he's a little speechless, when you look at him next, so you very helpfully fill in the silence. you offer, "any guy who drinks a caffé mocha isn't my kind of guy."
he splutters, cheeks likely redder than he'd like, reeling from embarrassment. "that was only because i thought you liked them!"
"why would you think that?"
kaiser doesn't reply. he's dug his grave, he knows, as you blink. in real time, he watches you connect the dots. "oh. you walked into the table because you were trying to see what i got. so you could talk to me, right?"
maybe he could still salvage this. if not his chance with you, then his dignity. "maybe i did. it worked, at least."
you're staring at him again, a contemplative look on your face. and he's willing his heart to stop racing under your gaze, and he's begging his face to return to a normal colour, and he's practically praying for the butterflies to stop churning windstorms in his stomach, when you say, "it's hot chocolate. and i'll be here tomorrow. same time, same table. if you want to try again with the right drink."
he's never believed in fate. kaiser is a realist. he's practical. he knows, or at least, pretends to know what he's doing. kaiser believes life is what you make it. kaiser believes his future is in his hands. but then you smile at him again. and it's a different kind of smile; one where your eyes crease and it's more on your left side than your right, and he thinks that maybe, if one thing was bound to happen in this lifetime, it was to walk into this café and meet you this winter morning.
"hot chocolate," he smiles back at you, "i'll remember that."
you take your textbook and slide it into your bag before standing. "i'll see you then."
you're already gone when he realises that he still has your napkin. but, he smiles to himself, it's okay. he can just give it back to you tomorrow.
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flowers chosen: sweetpea & tarragon . . thank you for the lovely time & lasting interest
❊ send a request! ❊ 5k masterlist ❊ event info ❊
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astaroth1357 · 1 year
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Most to Least Likely to Cry After Sex
Okay so, this might be a personal thing on my end, but I have long kept a running list of characters that I believe would cry after having sex. It is a perfectly natural response and there is absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about if it happens ... though it is surprisingly entertaining to think about in terms of fictional characters. And of course, I have a list for OM as well.
Contents: Nsfw/suggestive, depending on your definition, but not explicit. Emotional vulnerability explored.
~♡♡♡~
Levi
I think anyone could see this coming. Levi almost certainly has cried or would cry after sex. And depending on what you're doing, he may even cry during sex too.
Bless his little heart, it is 100% because he is always riding an emotional rollercoaster of the highest highs and lowest lows. The realization that somebody out there actually wants to be intimate with him would send his whole body into a meltdown. Have patience.
Mammon
Also kind of a no-brainer. He's only a little less likely to cry than Levi because he's better at putting up a front when he really wants to.
Unlike others on the list, Mammon gets super embarrassed if he gets overwhelmed and cries after sex but he rarely tries to hide it. It's kind of his way of reaching out for more affection, he wants to be coddled and reassured that his partner accepts him no matter what. He thrives on unconditional love like that.
Satan
Hear me out. Satan is canonically a kinky little fucker, I don't think he would cry after an especially "playful" rendezvous. It would be the really soft and intimate moments that get him everytime.
We have to remember, he's still a little new to this whole "experiencing feelings" thing. An emotion as overpowering as love is going to flatten him like a steamroller. He won't even realize that he is crying until his tears start staining the sheets. Be gentle. Talk him through it. Again, it's perfectly natural if it happens.
Belphie
I think Belphie will cry for bratty purposes more than anything else. I am wholly convinced that he will cry on demand if it gets him what he wants.
Lord forbid the MC tries to go anywhere before Belphie is ready because he may just grab onto them and start the waterworks. If you could withstand the full force of a pouty, teary-eyed Belphie begging just "5 more minutes" of cuddling, you're a stronger person than I am.
Simeon
Only lower than the other guys by virtue of having quite the stranglehold on his inner emotions, but he will let them out if he's comfortable to do so.
Let me be clear, Simeon wants to cry everytime. He wants to lose himself completely in his partner and let it all wash over him. It's just the social and moral questions surrounding what's happening that keep him from doing so. (Poor thing #1)
Asmo
Another person who can cry on demand or just get overwhelmed, but it won't happen often.
Put quite simply, Asmo's been around the block. He has a pretty good handle on himself even during his come downs. However, he knows how much it could mean to your partner if you're willing to show that side of yourself to them. So if MC says/does something that genuinely touches him, he will cry without shame.
Diavolo
Would almost certainly get misty-eyed if he was with someone he truly cared about. He may not cry, but he'll have to rub his eyes some.
Make. The. Prince. Feel. Loved. The realization that he has someone that he doesn't have order or trick into staying around would floor him. He's far, far too well-versed in maintaining a certain image to fully breakdown, but those feelings would all still be there regardless.
Lucifer
Also gets misty-eyed, particularly after make-up sex.
He would rather sheath his own nails into the skin of his palms than get caught crying, but if he really screwed something up (and was willing to admit it) then he would get a little vulnerable in the moment. It would be fleeting, though.
Solomon
It can get to him a bit, he's a pretty lonely guy, but he's more likely to make a joke or say something out of the blue just to hide from his feelings.
I don't think Solomon quite lets himself ponder or self-reflect on things that genuinely upset him. He's very goal-driven and future-focused, so indulging in these softer moments would be foreign to him. If he ever feels like crying, he'll immediately try to distract from it rather than letting the feelings out. (Poor thing #2)
Beel
I just don't see him crying. He's very comfortable with himself, he doesn't really repress his emotions, and he knows he's well-liked and well-loved. Beel would be just fine.
It's not a Solomon situation, of course. Beel does self-refect and he genuinely engages with others. I just don't think this would be a shocking level of intimacy to him. He already loves others about this deeply to start with, so just expect a really smiley Beel!
Barbatos
To be clear, Barbatos can cry and he has cried before in his life. It just won't ever be after sex.
Similar to Solomon, I think Barbatos lives his life with a certain level of detachment from the world around him. He wouldn't get overwhlemed after sex because he can't. It's not that his mind is elsewhere, it's that he blocks himself from getting too emotionally invested in such things to begin with. (Poor thing #3)
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1anxiousbeancrying · 2 months
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Ok I never see anyone talking about the fight between vaggie and lute so I'm gonna break it down. It's such a quick fight but it's so brutal. The first part of this fight happens within 20 SECONDS.
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As the fight starts lute grabs vaggie and flies up to get more power as she slams vaggie into the floor. And the speed of it gives vaggie little time to counter it.
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Next lute has vaggie pined under her, vaggie picks up a glass shard to try and stab lute with, which she redirects back towards vaggies eye. For the entire first part of this fight lute was only going for vaggies eye/face for attacks rather than just simply defeat her.
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Then vaggie manages to semi knock lute off of her only for lute to throw/kick her into a glass pot.
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Lute aims her sword higher again, which vaggie blocks with her arm, and in the next shot you can see it actually cut her.
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She shoves lute off to try and make some distance between them.
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Lute charges once again aiming for vaggies eye, vaggie dogged and lute hits the wall instead.
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Lute tackles vaggie to the floor, they both get up then lute slams her head against the counter twice.
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Vaggie then picks up one of Alastors radios and smacks lute in the face with it. (I don't think Alastor would appreciate you breaking his things vaggie)
It cuts back to Charlie then back to vaggie so we don't really know what happened next, vaggie falls to the floor, lute then picks up vaggies spear and stabs her through the hand with it.(ow) We could also assume that lute had narrowly missed slicing vaggies face in the part of the fight we didn't see because she has two small cuts on her face that weren't there when she was slammed into the table.(We see this quite obviously in the show so I'm not putting the image.)
Vaggie then rips her spear from her hand, flips her body round to knock lute of balance and uses her spear to fling lute across the room and into a table.
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(there is an animation error here as she's missing all the blood she had on her in the other frames but it looks cool so I'm using it) she then rips the back of her shirt to let her wings out, then fly's up and destroys the metal bars holding mass amounts of rubble, causing it to slam down and trap lute.
Then as we all know vaggie lets lute live, it kinda feels like a call back to episode one when lute says Charlie is unworthy of an exorcist blade and that she didn't matter. Vaggie not killing lute when she had the chance to could make lute feel unworthy.
Lute then rips her arm of to continue her fight with vaggie on the roof or to at least stop her from helping Charlie.
This is such a cool fight so much happens in so little time. It would make an interesting au if lute did manage to land any of her hits and blinded vaggie though.
I hope they have a rematch though because this is the one of the only if not the only close combat fights in the series,(without guns or powers)
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Oh but hear me out, frank and a daughter of Aphrodite. The children of the mars and Aphrodite, of war and love. What ares and Aphrodite wish they were. Make poor baby frank feel so loved and appreciated completely unconditionally
⋆⭒˚.⋆ frank zhang x daughter of venus! reader hcs
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content: frank zhang x daughter of venus! reader hcs warning: not any that i can think of!! author's note: i know i know you said aphrodite, but we keepin it roman here fr fr hope you don't mind!! also I KNOW IT'S THE SAME PIC AGAIN BUT IDK WHY MY BRAIN DIDN'T EVEN CONSIDER DAUGTHER OF VENUS SHIT AND THAT PIC IS JUST SO PERFECT THAT I CANNOT FIND IT IN ME TO CARE-
how you managed to stay soft through all that camp jupiter put you through, frank had no idea but he loved it
you were badass in a fight but the moment training was over, you were using someone's breast plate as a mirror to fix your hair and lipgloss
that's actually how you met frank
reyna called the end of practice and you turned to the closest person and inspected yourself in their armor, reaching up and dabbing at your lip gloss with your ring finger while pushing away fly aways with your other hand
frank refused to move, standing still as statue while you did this
you realized what you were doing, popping but up into a stand position and offering frank a honey-sweet smile
"oh, sorry! thanks for letting me use you as a mirror," you mused, the attractiveness of the guy not lost on you
cutest mirror ive ever seen, you thought and mentally giggled at
"a- any time," replied frank, sort of lost in a daze as he took you in
"im gonna hold you to that," you joked, winking before someone called your name
you were scampering away, throwing a glance and wave over your shoulder at the boy before leaving the arena
frank waved back but far too late, still caught up in just how pretty you were
from that moment on, frank had a plan
what can i say? son of war?? he's gotta know how to strategize sometimes
his big master plan?? seek you out and ask you on a date
i know i know, it sounds kinda a crazy but you gotta trust the process here guys
frank's just a wild, crazy guy i dunno what to tell you
but everyone wanted him to do this as fast as possible
bc they were sick of his yapping about you
"did you see y/n's block today? yeah...she's so cool...and pretty...and-"
"frank...we know. shut up, please."
"did you see y/n's hair today? she definitely was trying something new. should- should i tell her i like it?? is that weird or-"
"frank, she put it in a ponytail. she didn't revolutionize hair-"
"TO ME SHE DID!!!"
his bunkmates are encouraging him to ask you out, simply because if they hear one more thing about you, they're gonna kill frank
little do they know, you guys dating makes it worse
there is no escape from a boyfriend who loves his girlfriend and loves to talk about her
first date? just walking around new rome with coffee
you judge frank for his straight black coffee as you take a sip of your rainbow swirl, whip-cream-crapped-in-a-cup, with spinkles monstrosity that is like three stories high and has cookies stuffed in it...somewhere
frank just takes the teasing, hiding his blush behind his cup
at some point, you grabbed frank's wrist and dragged him towards something, excitedly rambling about whatever it was
and...you just never left go??? your hand slipped from his wrist to his hand and it just...it clicked and it fell into place and it felt right
and now both of you are blushing for the rest of the date but also refusing to let go
big big big fan of walking on the side of the sidewalk with the cars??? ya know what i mean???
like will literally stop the two of you, walk around you to the side with the cars, and then allow you to keep walking
every time he does it, all you can think is that he would rather die to keep you safe
and then you wrapping your arm around his and squeezing into his side with this mushy-gushy smile
he's your number one fan (stalker but in the sweetest way)
oh did you mention one singular time that you hated a certain kind of lip gloss??
oh yeah, no the store that sells that one looking like a pin cushion of arrows is completely unrelated don't even worry about it
will find out your favorite animal and wait until the second or third date to just slip into conversation that he could turn into it, shrugging like its no big deal
it is, in fact, a big deal
your squealing all excitedly before asking quietly if he'd be willing to do it
bro pretends to think it over like he was gonna say no
bffr
look at his lovesick ass and tell me he's not gonna do it
please, don't lie to me rn
within seconds, he's flying around as a bird, or he's flopping around in a fountain as a fish, or he's rubbing into your side as a dog or whatever else
and you're cheering, reaching out to pet his fur or his feathers or his scales
and he's grateful that animals can't blush or stutter out words
will write you love letters and actually sends them in the mail
he pays POSTAGE for the mailman to walk down the street
that mailman always gets so pissed, grumbling about stupid boys in love and slamming the mailbox shut
that's how you know frank sent you something, which leads to you jumping out of bed and running to the mailbox, excitedly ripping it open and stealing the letter before returning to your bunk
and it's always just the sweetest things anyone has ever said another anyone else
rivals shakespeare and jane austen and all those bitches
and it's for your eyes only
you repay frank with romantic gestures
"what are these?" he asked as you presented him with new arrows
"oh, you were complaining about the weight being off so i whittled them down!" you beamed a smile at your awestruck boyfriend
"y/n, there's like fifty of these-"
you polish his arm, remove the feathers and dog hair from his clothes, press kisses to his cheek at every opportunity
you just gotta make sure your boy knows he's loved
and boy does he know when youre around
tbh, i just know frank was always sort of worried love wouldn't find him
what if he's too much like his father?? too rough?? too war-stricken?? too damaged??
what if he's not enough like his mom?
what if-
then you came, showing up without so much as a 'hello' and began wiping away at these thoughts
you showed him that frank zhang is worth of love, esspecially your love
the son of war and the daughter of love together in the softest way
history is a circle fr fr
they just like their mommy and daddy but so much better
to surmise, just a boy who's in love with love's daughter and a girl who's in love with the softest son of war
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jkslipppiercing · 8 months
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Bumblebee 04 | jjk
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• summary: Jeon Jungkook was your high school bully. What are you gonna do when your parents are forcing you to marry him as the country's most well-known CEO?
• pairing: ceo!jk x reader, high school bully!jk, dom!jk.
• genre: enemies to lovers, slowburn, high school bully to lover, arranged marriage, CEO/billionare romance, marriage of convenience.
• warnings: choking, humiliating (kinda idk), close proximity, cursing, miscommunication.
• WC: 2.1K aprox. (she's a little baby)
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A single tear runs down your cheek.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
You've never cried over a guy. Is that going to change now?
Possibly.
Jungkook has already left for work at about 9:00, leaving you to your thoughts. He said you're due to show up at his office at 12:00, considering him being free for the day. He claims he needs to use his rare vacant hours to talk you over the basic dos and don’ts of working for him.
You agreed, acting like you've met him two days ago over a work interview.
“Y/N, I went to a gentlemen’s club yesterday.”
You run his words on repeat in your mind, like a jammed tape that's just running through your head. His voice refuses to back down, growing louder at your conscience. He's basically screaming the sentence at you now, overwhelming you.
“A strip club.”
Shit.
Another tear escapes.
In all honesty, you have no idea how to feel. One minute you’re fuming at how he didn’t care enough to show up to dinner yesterday, and the other you’re miserable; because you don’t want to be mad at him.
Every time your feelings are brought to the matter, you spiral. You truly don’t know how to feel. You want to understand him, but you’d be tossing your pride in the trash for you to forgive him for what he did. It was a mistake, you know how badly he knows he’s fucked up, but you still haven’t heard an apology. All it takes is one fucking apology, just good enough to show he cares.
You blocked your feelings out and wore a cold mask, in disguise of your true emotions. You expected him to be mad at that reaction, because you basically gave him nothing to work with, but he reciprocated it. He’s playing your game. Now, you’re going to play his.
You look at your reflection, wiping away at the stray tears of utter confusion. You plaster a satisfied smile as you appreciate the effort you put into the outfit you’re wearing.
You’re wearing a mini-dress.
In basic work attire ethics, wearing a mini-dress to work is inappropriate. It’s the epitome of unprofessionalism, and you’re wearing it purely to provoke Jungkook. He said you’re going to start working for him, but the poor man doesn’t know how you operate.
He’s giving you the secretary job only to show you who holds the true power, thinking it’s him who does.
He’s so gullible to think you can simply agree to work for him.
Soon, when you’re married to Mr. Jeon and you’re officially declared as his wife, you’re also officially a partner of the company. The company of which HG and Jeon Agencies will merge to form. So, in actuality, you're soon due to be working with him.
If you wore a mini dress to work as Jungkook’s future wife, who will dare to speak a word about it?
An off-shoulder, tight black mini dress- at that.
•••
You strut through the company like it’s your own, endless gaping faces staring your way.
Your head is held high, your hips swaying with every step in such an authoritative manner. It’s impressive- to say the least- the amount of confidence you’re radiating through every stride.
As you enter the elevator, you catch a rather cute employee- the quirky type with glasses- staring at youwith her jaw to the floor. You make sure to send her a rather flirty wink just before the elevator doors close and you’re taken up to Mr. Jeon’s office. You catch a glimpse of her swooning over the action with rosy cheeks, a victorious smile pulling the corners of your lips up.
A couple of minutes later, you’re in front of the secretary’s desk, Yoona staring up at you in bewilderment.
You smile at her half-heartedly, getting straight to the point; “Is Mr. Jeon alone in his office? Does he have anyone scheduled to meet him anytime soon?” Your voice drips in professionalism, cutting straight to the point.
Yoona takes quite a bit of time before she stutters a semi-coherent answer. “U-uh n-no. He’s alone.”
You nod your head in acknowledgement as your don’t waste your time any more, heading for Jungkook’s office door.
You don’t knock. Why would you?
Holy heavens.
Jungkook is leaning back on his desk as if awaiting your arrival. He has a glass of what seems to be whiskey in his hand. The tie around his neck loosened as his suit’s blazer was forgotten on the couch.
He has 2 leather chairs on either side in front of his desk and a wide couch in the center, in addition to an aesthetic coffee table; seemingly creating a lounge in the middle of his office.
He has a couple buttons of his shirt undone, as the sleeves of it are rolled up on his forearms. His hair tousled like he’d run his hand through it a million times, which he does before he smirks. He tucks one of his hands in his trousers’ pocket, using the second to bring the glass up to his lips. He smirks through it at you, all the while maintaining eye contact between you two. His watch glints in the sun, grabbing your attention.
You've always had a thing for men and watches, and goddamn is it a weakness.
The sun rays shine through the tall floor to ceiling glass windows, illuminating his figure and complimenting its height and the lean muscle that hides beneath the sheer material of the shirt.
The sight knocks the breath right out of your lungs and skyrockets your heartbeat to over one hundred and ten per minute.
Whoa.
His eyes rack over your body, starting from your toes and making their way up to your head. He takes his time taking you in, a glint of lust- maybe even hunger- swirling in his chocolate eyes. He takes another sip of whiskey.
“Mr. Jeon.”
“Mrs. Jeon.”
The name escapes his lips in an amused manner.
What?
Last time you checked, you were still Ms. Y/L/N.
“Excuse you?” You raise a brow as you approach him. You place your purse on the couch, joining his blazer as you strut towards him, your head held high.
“You better get used to being addressed by that, Y/N.” He stays leaned back on the desk, speaking as if he has not a care in the world. “You are my future wife, after all.” He smirks.
God damn that smirk of his.
Oh how much you want to kiss it off his face.
You continue your stride toward him, betraying no emotion when your face stays neutral.
You stop right in front of him, only to take the glass from between his fingers and cradle it in yours. “I can still say no, you know.”
You shrug casually, bringing the glass up to your lips to take a tantalizingly slow sip. You make sure to drink from the side he had drunk from, licking your lips after you let the sensation of the alcohol burn your throat.
His expression stays unreadable, so you make sure he understands what you mean: “To the marriage. I still have an option.”
As you go to set the glass back on the desk where he’s leaned on, you almost stumble causing him to hold you by your hips. You straighten, your nose touching his in the process.
He leans in further, his lips brushing against yours as he looks into your eyes. It feels like he’s staring deeper into your soul, and the thought scares you.
What if he finds things better left untouched?
What if he reads in between the lines of your emotions?
“What makes you think I’d let you?” He whispers to you, eliciting goosebumps on your skin. His hands are still glued to your waist the same way they always are, driving you absolutely mad in every way possible.
“This isn’t very professional now, is it, Mr. Jeon?” You place your hands on his chest as you push him away, solely to put distance between the both of you. A rosy blush kisses your cheeks as his hands find their home on your waist again, only for him to pull you closer.
His tone turns cold, speaking as if he hates the thoughts of you running through his head.
“You think you’re slick, huh?” He chuckles, but it comes out rather evil than lighthearted. You almost flinch.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” He stares deep into your eyes again, making your head swim. Your mind is too lost in his eyes to register the position you’re in. You don’t know what to do.
“Showing up to work in a mini-dress, Y/N?” His hand snakes up to rest on your jaw, but it’s a threat. It feels like a threat. You fail to move.
“That’s not very good now, is it?” He smiles, but it’s void of emotion. It’s scary. “Trying to provoke me?” His body is flush against yours now, with him no longer leaning against the desk, but handling your body in a way that makes it impossible for you to move; you don't even know if you want to. He’s taller than you- by far- his frame all too consuming the entirety of your thinking by towering over you.
His hand moves from your jaw to your neck, resting there. You struggle to appear unaffected, knowing very well how miserably you seem to be failing. The way he's looking at you almost seems like he's belittling you, making you doubt yourself every time you look at him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You breathe out a response, surprising yourself. Why does he have such a great effect on you?
“Playing dumb now, are we?” He coos, mocking you in the way he smiles. His dimple laughs at you.
The hand on your neck flexes, barely cutting off your air suply.
You stay rooted to your spot. Your mind is going in so many different directions that it makes it harder to stay focused. Not that you are- by any means- focused. Your breaths are turning more shallow by the minute, but you love it.
You trust Jungkook, and he knows you do.
You'd trust him with your life, no matter how mad you are at him.
He's sure of it.
“Hm?” His tone grows irritated at your lack of response, so you simply shake your head no- as much as his grip allows you to- at least.
“I already taught you how to use your words, Y/N.” You can’t breathe. Your heart beats in your throat and you just can’t- breathe.
But still, you push through. “Why would I want to provoke you?” You ask instead.
“Don’t you feel betrayed?” Jungkook looks at you now. Fully looks at you. No playfulness, no amusement whatsoever. His hand falls from your neck, coming to rest at your waist.
The question catches you off guard. Where did this suddenly come from?
“Aren’t you hurt?” His eyes turn to ones so deep in feeling, it sets you off. Is he talking about the prior night?
“About?” You mask the emotions struggling to stay veiled by trying to sound as calm as possible.
Don’t show weakness. Your mind screams at you, a desperate attempt to keep you collected.
Of course you feel betrayed. Of course, you feel hurt. How dare he ask when it’s him that’s causing you to feel this way in the first place. All you crave in this particular moment is to unleash. Unleash the anger you’ve been trying so hard to bottle in. Although you crave that from deep within your bones, you stay cool- calm.
All the haze from the earlier teasing dissipates into thin air, and you take the time to properly look at the man before you.
Jungkook looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. He has dark purplish eye bags under his currently heavy lidded eyes; the most beautiful ones you’ve ever been graced to see. Even in the exhaustion clearly evident in them, his eyes hold infinite depths of beauty. They captivate your whole being, leaving you intoxicated by their effect.
“I’m tired, Y/N.” He looks like he’s seconds away from collapsing. He’s angry again, his face fully expressing anger and frustration. But you have the right to be angry, too. Doesn't he think so?
You don’t give a shit if it means you’re being petty. You deserve an apology.
Your eyes squint in defiance at him, and you see his muscles tense further as a response to the action.
“You humiliated me.” You scoff, staring at him in disbelief. “You think you deserve the right to be fucking angry, Mr. Jeon?” You jab a finger to his chest.
The formality aims straight for his heart, while the coldness laced in your velvety voice stabs at it further. He stays silent, looks at the floor as his hands fall from your waist, only to hang helplessly on either side of his body. He clenches them into fists, only to unclench them right after. He repeats the action, in hopes of focusing on it instead of you. He doesn’t want to talk about it. About this. He’s thought about it too much, where it’s gotten him to a dead end. He doesn’t know how to feel. He doesn’t understand what he feels towards you; it’s a feeling that catches him off-guard.
A feeling he isn’t familiar with. A feeling nobody taught him how to deal with.
You jab a finger to his chest again, “Pick me up at 9, we’re going to the club you suggested the other day.”
Your tone comes out void of emotion- another stab to the heart. His eyes don’t betray the floor he appears to be so fascinated in.
You step away from him, turning away. Just like that, you’ve left the office, leaving Jungkook to drown in the confusion that’s slowly eating away at his mind- little by little, piece by piece.
Little did you know, Jungkook was angry at himself.
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mypoisonedvine · 4 months
Note
you know your last zemo piece RUINED me I think about it at least once a day 😭 what about zemo/reader + 41? 👀 if you feel like it of course! I would read even your grocery list probably
okay well then eggs, milk, greek yogurt--
just kidding c: (not kidding that i need to buy greek yogurt tho. i ran out the other day)
41: "don't do that. don't act like you don't feel this too."
warnings: smut (18+ only, ever so slightly dubcon because of all of the denial?), fingering and overstimulation, glove kink, angst, enemies to lovers, descriptions of injuries and violence, reader is very generally implied to be an avenger?
100 random prompts - send me a number and a character!
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"What are you doing here?" you asked sharply, pretending to be focused on your book even though your heart had been beating too fast to let you read another word as soon as he stepped into your room.
"I just wanted to speak with you," he said. You knit your brows together, because obviously you just want to talk, what the hell else would we be doing in here alone? but you didn't say anything. "About what happened today--"
"It doesn't mean anything," you insisted, rather dramatically flipping the page of your book. "You're an asset to the mission, my job is to keep the mission on track. That's it."
He didn't react, really. "I... never said it meant anything," he explained, "I simply wanted to thank you."
You cursed yourself internally, staring blankly forward at your book, trying so hard to ignore his dark form in your peripheral. Did he have to keep staring at you like that?
"So, thank you," he said.
"That's not necessary," you insisted, "I would've done it for anyone."
"You'd take a bullet for anyone?" he pressed.
You closed your book in frustration, finally looking back at him; you wished you hadn't. You couldn't even begin to react to everything you saw on his face, the way he was looking back at you... you stopped yourself before you even thought about trying to describe what emotion that could be. It took you a moment to even remember what you were going to say: "I didn't take a bullet," you corrected him, standing up off the bed, "I had Kevlar on. I just blocked it."
"Yes, Kevlar-- not magic," he clarified. "It must have still injured you."
You shrugged. "I'll live."
"May I see?" he asked softly, stepping forward until he was uncomfortably close to you, and you nodded slightly. You couldn't look at him as his gloved hand slowly pulled up the bottom of your tank top, until the massive bruise on your stomach was revealed. "Christ..." he whispered under his breath.
You shoved the fabric back down and wiped under your nose, trying to act normal and stern again.
"I didn't know you were wearing a vest," he explained. "The feeling that went through me when I thought you were really hit-- that you might..."
He trailed off, but you nodded, knowing what he meant.
"I haven't felt that feeling in a long time," he continued soberly, his gaze a little darker. "I never wanted to feel that again."
"Well, I guess I'm sorry if I... distressed you," you mumbled.
"Surely you know I'm not here asking for an apology," he scoffed.
"Then what do you want from me?!" you snapped.
"Don't ask me a question you don't want me to answer," he warned, and your heart jumped.
"What's that supposed to mean?" you mumbled, crossing your arms tightly and looking away.
He didn't answer, just stepped closer to you-- you wanted to step back, but the bed was in your way. Damn these insanely tiny rooms...
You looked back at him, trying to keep a straight face, hoping he couldn't hear your racing pulse somehow.
"Ask me again what I want from you," he ordered darkly, "if you really want to know."
You stammered a bit but eventually choked it out, almost a whisper: "What do you want from me?"
"I want you to promise you'll never do that again."
You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it wasn't that. "What?"
"Never put yourself in harm's way like that again," he demanded, "I can't take it-- if you were really hurt, or even killed--"
"It's my job," you reminded him. "If my orders put me in harm's way, that's where I go. And my orders come from Bucky, not you."
"James doesn't care about you," he interjected sharply, and your eyes went wide. "And you don't care about James-- not in that way, at least."
"I-I don't know what you're talking about," you blurted out, not sure what else you were supposed to say to that.
"Don't do that," he pleaded lowly, shaking his head. "Don't pretend that you don't feel this, too."
You tried to step away but he grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you back into him-- closer than ever; his other hand came up to hold your face, a gloved thumb tracing over your cheek as you looked back at him.
"I can't watch you get hurt again," he breathed, "least of all for me. Just let me protect you."
"I don't need your protection," you assured, "I can fend for myself."
"But do you want to?"
When your mouth opened with a little gasp of denial, he took the opportunity to kiss you-- hard and passionate, pulling your body close to his.
You put your hands on his chest like you were going to push him away, but you found yourself melting into it instead, and your fingers weakly clutched at the fur lapel of his coat.
"Fuck," you mumbled against his lips, kissing him back with more intensity than either of you expected. Weeks of tension finally broke as you clawed at each other, falling onto the bed and struggling with a mess of bulky clothes.
His kiss moved to your neck, his teeth digging into your skin until you whined. "Would it be wrong of me," he wondered, "to be responsible for another mark on you?"
"Shut up," you hissed, 'cause how the fuck could he be all poetic and shit right now? You could barely even think straight-- clearly you weren't thinking straight, because you were in bed under Zemo of all people. "I can't fucking stand you sometimes."
"I know," he mumbled against your skin, his hands moving down your waist until he could start opening your belt.
"But I wanted you so fucking bad..."
"I know."
He slipped his hand into your pants, cupping your sex for just a moment, before roughly shoving two fingers inside you-- with his fucking leather glove still on. You moaned low and loud, tossing your head back as he stretched you on those fingers, the intrusion thick and sudden and making you insanely desperate.
Your back arched as he thrusted those fingers inside you, your legs spreading naturally as your body craved more. He pulled away from your neck to stare down at your face, mesmerized by the way you responded to him.
"O-oh my god," you gasped, "fuck--"
"Right there?" he assumed as he curled his fingers against your spot, making you shudder and hold tight onto his arm.
"Yes, yes!" you whimpered.
"Quiet, draga," he cooed, "James is only one room away--"
"Fuck, j-just fuck me," you begged, "I need you-- just fuck me, please."
"No," he denied flatly, though it clearly pained him to say it. "One of us has to stay in control."
You whined in frustration, amazed at how much he could say in so few words. I'm in control right now. I wouldn't be able to control myself if I was inside you. I wouldn't hold back, and everyone would hear us. You couldn't pick which underlying meaning was the one that made you that much more wet all of a sudden.
He purred through a smile as he rubbed harder against the spot inside you, moving his covered thumb to press to your clit as well. "I can feel how badly you need this-- it must have been so long since anyone pleasured you, hm? And you must have known I could take care of you."
Your legs were shaking already, your hand reaching up to hold onto his shoulder, then weaving into his hair. You tried to pull him down for a kiss, but when his face came close to yours, he stopped and stared right into your eyes-- and his other hand grabbed yours and pinned it down roughly beside your head. You bit your lip, hating how much you loved the helplessness you felt right then.
"I just need you to come for me now," he explained with a growl. "I need to watch you give into it."
"I-I'm close," you nodded, and he smiled again.
"I know," he said, making you feel a little stupid for even saying it. "Show me. I want to see what it looks like when you let go."
With your one free hand holding tightly onto the sheets, your hips started to rock up into his touch-- or maybe trying to get away from it, the feeling was so intense. Either way he had no trouble keeping you where he wanted you, shoving his fingers deep until your eyes rolled back. You knew you were saying his name, you heard it echoing around the walls, but you refused to believe that it was really you begging for him like that. You would've given him anything he wanted right then, just to get through that feeling and let ecstasy wash over you: thankfully, all he wanted was exactly that.
It was actually quiet at first, you were holding your breath without really meaning to; only when you just barely started to come down from the high did you make a sound again, a moan going out along with a big exhale of everything you'd been holding in.
Except the feeling didn't stop, because he didn't. Actually, he started going even harder.
Your eyes shot open and your body rocked. "F-fuck, fuck!" you yelped, both your hands tightening into fists before the unrestrained one grabbed at his wrist to try to slow him down-- which obviously didn't work.
He was biting his lip and flaring his nostrils from the force of it, staring down at you with fire in his eyes as he kept going.
"Oh my god," you sobbed, "I-I can't-- fuck, I-- oh!"
You wouldn't really call it a scream... he would, but you wouldn't. You might have said it was more like a high-pitched moan or maybe just a loud whine, but really, to anyone else who heard it (which may not have just been Zemo) it was definitely a scream. A scream of overwhelming, painfully-perfect pleasure. And only when your whole body was a shaking, useless mess did he stop moving his fingers inside you and gently pull them out.
You were so exhausted, going limp against the mattress and fighting to blink your eyes open, that you didn't even really notice him bringing his soaked glove to his mouth and getting a taste of you, humming contentedly.
It was only when he let go of your wrist and stopped hovering over you, sitting on the bed with a sigh, that you really noticed him again and (mostly) came back to reality.
His hair was messed up, and his face was flushed-- and you'd tugged his shirt to the side and exposed more of his chest. Only now did he look even a quarter as affected by this as you were. "There will be a time and place for more, draga," he promised you with a sigh, "soon."
"When?" you asked, and he smiled a bit deviously at you before wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and kissing you again-- sweeter, slower, but with a hint of dominance as he gently bit on your bottom lip.
"Whenever my patience runs out," he answered with a grin.
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neurosharky · 3 months
Text
ASPD: The Desire for and Run from Intimacy
This post will only contain my personal opinion and experience. It may not be applicable to all other people with ASPD and may likewise be relatable to people who do not have it.
I am only going to be talking about emotional intimacy, but this post is definitely also applicable to the other type of intimacy!
I'll make myself pretty vulnerable in this post, by discussing my personal experience, so you better not make me regret that!
Abbreviations:
ASPD = Antisocial Personality Disorder
ASPD is a disability caused by prolonged childhood trauma (with many possible variations), that develops in order to protect the brain from said trauma, or rather to help the brain deal with it in some way!
While the consequences of this in the context of intimacy, look different for every person with ASPD, many do report: a difficulty with developing bonds, having problems trusting people & giving away control, losing feelings for people quickly and abruptly/getting "bored" of people, responding extremely to arguments, having problems dealing with peoples emotions/ problems with being close to people etc.
This may be due to a variety of factors, but does often tie back to having no or few positive experiences with intimacy, having not learned how to exist in relationships properly/a lack of being socialized, not having the necessary prosocial emotions and mechanisms to deal with it and other similar things.
While this causes some people with ASPD to develop a brain, that does not have a need for emotional intimacy at all, others develop a brain, that craves the emotional intimacy it has been denied, but which will also fight said intimacy at every turn.
Thats as much generalized info as I can give you, as the exact representation of this is highly individual, but I will offer my personal experience on the following slides!
What you need to know is that I was accidentally neglected for huge parts of my childhood and teens and did not get my emotional and social needs met most of the time, while also knowing that my parents were theoretically capable of that, as they were giving everything I lacked to my sibling.
This caused me to grow up with a burning desire for intimacy, while being disappointed by people time and time again, failing to actually develop the things needed to experience this intimacy and partially growing to resent it and viewing it as "weak" and "bad".
Ever since then I have been stuck in what I like to call the "ASPD stages of running". Theres different points in getting close to people (in any nature of a relationship), that'll send me running and feeling like I am "weak" for wanting it, or as if being close to people is the worst thing that could happen.
The stages (simply put) are:
1. Desiring/Daydreaming about my dream relationship
2. Looking at peoples relationships/Looking at people with the intent of getting closer to them
3. Talking to people (online or irl)
4. Getting closer / being friends with people
5. Being friends with people for longer
Optionally:
6. Getting so close that a romantic relationship may happen
7. The moment of getting in the relationship / the days after
8. Being in the relationship for a bit
At any of those stages, I'll very likely have one or multiple moments where my ASPD will try to get the better of me and will try to convince me to just run away, drop contact and never talk about it again. Even just admitting to this and talking about it is hard as fuck, because it is so deeply ingrained in my brain to see emotional intimacy as a weak and dangerous thing.
What this will look like exactly really depends on the person and situation, but things that have happened in the past were:
• blocking the person and everyone I am friends with and pretending I am no longer alive
• my brain fixating on their faults in order to give me a good reason to hate them so I don't get closer to them and can hold them at arms length
• responding less often/more dryly or ignoring messages entirely
• not replicating the energy of the conversation/relationship
• staging an incident so I ruin the relationship
• running at the first signs of a disagreement
• avoiding people when they are emotional
• feeling uncomfortable around people as a whole => isolating
• beating myself up about letting it happen again
• impulsively bumping the relationship to another stage, just to immediately regret it (in a "fuck that has consequences" way)
• shutting off all my emotions, dissociate or otherwise make sure to stop the feelings (or just lose them automatically)
To put it in a shorter and more simple way, I'll usually either get the fuck outta there, or make sure to change the relationship/my personal position in the relationship to a more comfortable and less vulnerable and intimate level. This may also just look like me shutting off, becoming distant, or seeming mad, when all I am is overwhelmed by the intimacy and grossed out that I actually need and desire that.
As you can possibly imagine, that is not the most useful thing, as it causes issues in relationships, cuts friendships short and makes dealing with people a lot harder!
The most frustrating thing about this for me though is, that even if the most perfect friend or partner came along and even if the relationship would work at first, I am very very likely to crash it against the wall, simply because my brain cannot handle having the things, that it needs and desires.
It desires a hug and runs from the one who offers it.
It needs help and bites the hand that does.
It needs love and gets grossed out by whoever offers it.
It wants attention and can't handle it when it gets it.
It wants gifts, but doesnt know what to do when it gets them.
Whatever it wants, it can't have, so it keeps wanting, keeps yearning, keeps desiring and has to watch itself be unable to accept any of it.
And if that sounds painful, thats because it is.
Its a vicious kind of pain when you have to watch yourself ruin yet another thing, because your brain can't handle it, while you scream at it in frustration to get its act together, because it also is everything you desperately need.
ASPD sucks when it comes to intimacy and it especially sucks when it comes to talking about it, or being honest about these problems. It developed to protect me from being too "weak" to deal with the trauma and now its practically preventing me from showing any "weakness" or seeking out what previously hurt me. Which wouldn't be this bad, if I didn't still have this kid in me that just wants to be loved and daydreams about all the things, the ASPD hates.
When your shell disagrees with your core and you're not strong enough yet to break your shell, what does that really leave you with, other than curling up into a spiky ball and letting the shell do its job? I know I still need the protection, but I wish it wasn't actively preventing me from learning to live without it.
First posted on my instagram (same @)
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kalims · 6 months
Note
Omg requests are open! I hope you get really awesome requests 🥺🥺🥺💖💖💖 may I request leona or ruggie on a rainy night just cuddling and being corny and talking about books or food? (I recently read in a translation that leona likes to read long books so 😳😳)
ㅤits pouring
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"is that a book?"
there's a knock on the window by the pitter pats of the rain, smell of petrichor floods your nose. a pleasant smell that relaxes your shoulders. leona smells it better, rain means not having to deal with anyone else because no one's out during the time of the day.
so he bares with a smell, he doesn't dislike nor like it. it's fine, but compared to your scent it's practically nothing.
a chortle from you shifts leona's rather peaceful expression into a gruff frown, an expression you were more used to. he doesn't release the literature from his grasp, only shifting it to the side to take a peek at your chuckling face and steering an irritated stare—though devoid of the fire it usually has.
he scoffs at you. ears folding in itself as if to block out the sound of your voice, you'd argue that his... more animal features only twitched, or swayed because you only spoke. but you know that he is also aware of the fact so he willingly just chooses to settle on the warning from his eyes alone.
you stand in front of his bed. hands on your hips, idly tapping the sole of your foot on his carpet made entirely out of fur (kind of concerning.) and most importantly, adorning a feigned, mortified expression as you nod your head towards the item in his hand. "so what?" he grumbles, only illiciting another laugh from you.
"I didn't know you read, I'd expect.. I don't know, jack to read but definitely not you." you prod gently—teasing. practically pouring gasoline into the fire that's bound to spark, yet.
but it doesn't. he simply offers an incoherent rumble straight from his chest, deep and scratchy as his eyes stray away from your standing figure and back onto the sheet of the page he's been reading. 520. "just because I failed to ascend to the next level doesn't mean I can't read," he deadpans, eyes sliding smoothly over the expanse of words.
his ears, though still folded over itself unconsciously listens intently at your words.
he adds. "that grunt knows how to focus for sure, in exercising. I doubt he deems reading more important than that."
you blink, tilting your head at him. "then, what are you reading? I'm curious what kind of book has you so enamored that you've been cooped up in here all day and ignoring me." that seems to create a reaction in him, tail going still and tense from it's relaxed notion of sways. even his eyes pause on a particular word and grows unfocused as if processing your words.
he looks away. "I.. wasn't." he scowls, wracking through his memory to browse through something that would support his answer but there isn't, because all he remembers is indeed, reading all day, in between naps and besides that the only memory he remembers of you was your sleeping face before you... went to the main grounds...
oops. maybe that was just a slip of his mind.
a sliver of guilt gnaws at him. he stares at your face, the pride in him not wanting to admit to a mistake on his part—his stare is rather challenging, despite his predicament. leona is searching through your eyes, and you allow him indifferently. he knows you too well to believe that you were all but willing to let it slide with how many jokes you've been sprouting.
he concludes you're most likely, if not, a little upset.
leona sets down the book beside him and decides to pour more attention to the more important thing. "why don't you come over here and see for yourself then?" he offers. a bit unsteady with his feelings. your brows raise, contributing to an unimpressed stare.
"are you trying to seduce me?"
"yes,"
a quick, laid back answer said so casually. it was very leona-like, so much so that your blank face breaks into a little grin, and that time his warmth was not present nearly the whole day—your heart soared, and yearned. your brain thinks quickly, listening in and moving your feet without your will. until you've just climbed on his bed, on the edge.
not next to him, just closer.
leona eyes the distance with disdain as he shakes his head at you. "what, being petty?"
you retort fast. "a little space hurts you already, leona? why don't you try me ignoring you half a day?"
when he meets the smug, knowing look on your face he knows this is gonna be your excuse now on to use against him. every single day.
when it seems like you're not backing down he's at the end of his guilt-patience. he leans forward, a hand supporting his weight against the bed as the other reaches out for your limb. it happened fast, too quick for your liking. since when was he storing this haste under that lazy demeanor?! you'd think he moves like a snail (which he actually does.)
but you blink and you're being yanked forward by your arm, by a brute force you're sure you can't even struggle against. more so, he's using a single arm to yank you towards him. he doesn't need two to handle you, just one. you can't imagine if he uses both, practically a kidnapping sentence.
and, you're huddled in his arm, between his legs, on his chest. jailed, and unable to wriggle out with how secure one grip is.
leona casually picks up the book as if nothing happened. placing it in front of you so that even you can read what it is.
the rain falls harder, suddenly you feel warm beyond the cold it brought.
"cat got your tongue?"
his mocking voice echoes in your ear—beside your ear actually, maybe it was the heat of his breath that spread through your face and down your entire body..? you pursue your lips, uncharacteristically unable to make up a quip back because, what were you even supposed to say in this situation?!
and that tight knot of affection you've been admittedly craving all day comes loose just from less than a minute of an embrace from him. "..." you sigh, reluctant to submit to your fate but here you are; body relaxing as though a blanket has been thrown over your body but there isn't because that's just how warm leona feels.
"you're reading, romance?" you deadpan, gaping and stifling a laugh. not minding the nose buried between the crook of your neck from your behind and inhaling deeply. leona grunts on the flesh of your nape, the sound tickling.
"stop laughing." he groans. "what, you want me to say being with you got me in a mood?"
lovey-dovey mood?
your laughing ceases, and he's the one chuckling at your obvious fluster. he kisses the spot where his lips are. "I was wondering if there was a story as glorious as ours."
beneath the muffled song of rain, is that of peace.
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520, represents "love."
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gloomwitchwrites · 5 months
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Punch Bowl
Task Force 141 x Female Reader
Content & Warnings: established relationship / situationship, sharing, oral sex (male & female receiving), unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), multiple creampie, vaginal fingering, sex on top of and over a desk, cum swallowing, praise, anal sex, double penetration, multiple positions, light dom/sub dynamics, F/M/M/M/M
Word Count: 3k
At a required work holiday party, Captain Price leads you away to his office for a bit of fun. But the rest of Task Force 141 is interested, and for now, Price is willing to share you.
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist
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Behind the drinks table, you stand with your arms crossed, watching the rest of the room. You’re on punch bowl duty because every fucking year someone manages to spike it. It’s never been on your watch, but over the years you’ve begun to suspect a few possible culprits.
But really you don’t give a shit, and you don’t want to be here anyway.
There is nothing you like less than being forced to attend a mandatory work holiday party. Your face always aches from smiling by the end of it, and you have no social battery. You’d much rather be at home with a glass of wine, greasy takeout, and a book.
Every time someone approaches the table, you snag a plastic cup, ladle in some of the bright red beverage, and hand it off only to do it all over again. The worst part are the extroverts who don’t know how to shut the fuck up and talk your ear off for fifteen minutes before they find another victim.
It is exhausting. And awful. And you’re about five minutes away from pretending to be sick so you can go home to that wine, takeout, and book.
A figure blocks the room out of the corner of your eye. You turn, and freeze, realizing who it is that’s stepped in front of you.
It’s Captain John Price.
When you make eye contact with him, he smiles, and it’s so sultry that you already know what he wants. That’s the thing about you and John. It’s a weird, friends with benefits situation that is quickly starting to fall into feelings. Which is absurd. The two of you shouldn’t get involved beyond what it already is, and yet every time the two of you come together, it’s more passionate than two people simply fucking.
“Captain Price,” you acknowledge, reaching for a plastic cup, pretending everything about this interaction is normal.
“I need to talk to you,” he replies.
I need to talk to you is just code for “I want to fuck you.”
You keep a straight face, even as Price’s mouth twitches with amusement. “What about?” you ask, ladling in some of the bright red punch into a plastic cup.
The upper half of Price’s body twists slightly, and then he’s reaching for a nearby recruit. Price grips their shoulder and spins them around.
“Cover the punch bowl.” There is a hint of a growl in his voice, and that surprises you.
“Yes, sir.” The recruit nearly stumbles around the side of the table, obviously flustered.
There is no negotiation with Price. Rarely do you ever push back when he wants to be inside you.
You simply step around the table and allow the nervous recruit to take your previous position. Price steps into your space and nods toward the exit. The two of you move casually, as if this is routine and not at all strange. You’ve done it plenty of times before, and so far, no one has said anything.
Even if they did, what would they say? You’re not even SAS, and he is not your superior. You’re stationed here for work, and you’ve had to interact with John on multiple occasions for your job. The two of you walking away to talk is normal. At least, on the surface.
You and Price move out into the connecting hallway. From there, the two of you head for his office. The moment he shuts the door behind you, Price pushes you up against it, trapping you with his body.
He plants one hand directly above your head while the other squeezes your hip. Price presses in, one knee slotting between your legs, forcing them to open to accommodate his muscled thigh.
“You want to talk?” you murmur as his lips move toward your mouth.
“We’re talking,” he replies, closing the distance.
Price’s tenderness is not a soft thing but a fiery heat that burns you from the inside out. His kisses are fierce, purposeful, and each one is a brand that you carry with you in the moments the two of you are separated. But there is a desperate, underlying movement to each of his touches and kisses. Price is wanton but never needy and rarely rushes.
Your hands go out to rest against his chest, but he’s bending down, sliding his hands over your ass and lifting you up.
“John,” you breathe, clinging to him as he deposits you on top of his desk.
“Fighting me on this?” he asks, sinking to his knees before you. Price lifts your bent knees, placing one over each of his shoulders.
Then his hands are sliding up your thighs to your hips. Once there, his fingers dig in and drag you to the very edge of the desk. The friction pushes on your skirt, forcing it to slide up to your hips where it bunches. At this angle, there is no way Price doesn’t see your red lacy underwear underneath.
“No,” you murmur as Price slides his index finger between the delicate fabric and your pussy. He lightly pulls, and then guides it to the side, revealing you to him.
Price lifts your hips one more time, guiding you a bit closer before his head dips to run his tongue along the soft flesh of your inner thigh. His tongue against your skin is divine, as if you’ve been apart for ages. Price licks, bites, and kisses until he leaves marks behind.
As he moves closer, the anticipation of Price tasting you begins to build. His warm breath is a caress against your skin, and it’s even more wanton when you feel it against your clit. Your fingers dig into the wood, and when you glance down between your legs, Price’s gaze moves upward, his mouth positioned at your opening.
You arch your back and flex your hips a bit to signal exactly what you want. But you know Price won’t deny you. He never does.
“Let your knees fall wider, love,” purrs Price. When you do, he licks your pussy from opening to clit.
It’s a deliberate, languid touch that lingers for a moment before Price does it again, this time swirling his tongue as he does so. Then, Price goes for it, flicking his tongue against your clit in quick, sharp bursts of movement that immediately make your toes curl.
Your orgasm blooms from nowhere, roaring forward as Price sucks your clit into his mouth. Falling back on your elbows, you moan loudly. One of your knees start to slip but Price is there to catch it, keeping your legs spread wide as he continues to lavish your clit.
You’re in absolute bliss as the orgasm hits in a series of waves that only dissipates once Price releases you.
“Do you want more?” he muses before teasing the opening of your vagina with the tip of his tongue. Your hips buck but Price’s hand presses down on your thigh, settling you back onto the table.
“Please,” you beg, voice a hoarse whisper.
“Only because you asked nicely,” he says, inserting two fingers inside you. Your body surrenders and you both groan with how nicely you take him. You almost collapse against the desk, your eyelids closing in pleasure at his touch.
Price bends his fingers to press upon that sensitive spot inside you and drags his fingers down and out, popping them into his mouth to suck them clean.
“Do any of you want a taste?” asks Price, his voice unusually loud for just the two of you. His fingers slip underneath the delicate lace as Price guides your underwear down your legs and past your heels.
Your eyes snap open and you push yourself up, the lazy haze of lust disappearing.
In front of you are Price, who kneels between your legs, and three other men. The door to the office is open, and a large man in a black balaclava shuts the door. It’s the rest of Task Force 141. John MacTavish, Kyle Garrick, and Simon Riley all linger near the door just behind Price.
You have no idea what Simon is thinking behind the balaclava, but Soap and Gaz have smirks on their faces. It’s not that you haven’t entertained the idea, because you have. All of them are sweet on you, even Ghost who is fucking terrifying to nearly everyone except you.
“I do, Captain,” replies Gaz, already moving to take Price’s place.
Price stands and steps out of the way, only for Gaz to immediately put his mouth on you.
“Oh, fuck,” you whimper, and you feel Gaz’s gentle laugh against your skin.
Price saddles up to the side of the desk. His hand grabs the back of your head, twisting in your hair, and then he guides you toward him, your body slightly bent. With his other hand, he undoes the front of his jeans.
Instinctually, you reach for him, grasping his cock the moment it’s free of the zipper.
“Just like that,” groans Price as you take him into your mouth.
You run your tongue along the underside of his cock before sucking him down again. With fist and mouth, you work Price until he’s murmuring your name. It’s growing more difficult to concentrate. Gaz is skilled, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers as he pumps them steadily in and out of you.
Soap and Ghost might be watching, waiting their turn, or both. But they’ll have their turn, and that excites you.
You choke around Price’s cock when it hits the back of your throat. Gaz swirls his tongue around your clit and that breaks you. The orgasm rises and you squeeze around Gaz’s fingers.
“That’s fucking beautiful,” says Gaz with a contented amusement that makes you feel gorgeous. It’s an appreciative comment, but you only have a moment to linger in it before Price’s hand on the back of your head keeps you in place.
“Can you swallow, love? For me?”
You nod, and then Price’s taste bursts on your tongue. He does not pull away, but makes you take all of it, and you are eager for every drop. Price draws away, his cock leaving your mouth in a wet pop. Some of your salvia sticks to the head of him, and he brushes it away along with whatever stays on your lips.
“Show me,” he says, and you open, revealing that you’ve swallowed every bit of him.
“Good girl. Good fucking girl.”
Gaz licks his lips, wiping off the bit of your release that still sits on his lips. He pushes up to standing, and then Ghost is right there, grabbing at you, dragging you off the desk. You nearly wobble when your feet hit the floor but he’s fast, making sure you don’t fall.
“I want you on your knees,” he says, and you immediately drop. “Eager. I like that,” purrs Ghost as he lightly traces the line of your jaw with his index finger.
When Ghost’s cock is free, you immediately wrap your fingers around the base, and you go for it. There is no teasing lick or kiss. You throat him, your lips hitting your hand as you do so.
“Fucking hell,” he groans. “You take it nicely. Don’t you?”
You moan around Ghost’s cock, basking in the praise. He is larger than Price, and you take as much as your throat will allow. The head presses roughly against the back of your throat, nearly causing you to gag. Instead of resisting, you relax into him, breathing through your nose, and that helps tremendously.
Your reward is another vocalization of Ghost’s pleasure. That deep, guttural moan of his goes straight to your pussy, and all you want to do is suck him dry. Fuck—suck all of them dry. Hollowing out your cheeks, you slide and bob your mouth along his shaft until Ghost nearly becomes a puddle at your feet. You may be on your knees before him, but you have all the control. It is thrilling. Having this power makes you bolder.
But the control is a fallacy, because the moment you begin to make this skull-faced man into a whimpering mess, someone is grabbing your wrists, pulling them behind your back as someone else latches onto the back of your neck.
You are held in place, and then Ghost does what he wants, fucking your mouth like you’re his little toy. With Price, the two of you usually share the control, switching the power between the two of you. But Ghost? He is completely domineering, steering this entire thing until you’re the one who is the whimpering mess.
“Fuck,” bites out Ghost, and then he’s yanking you off of him.
But he does not spill into his hand or on your face. Instead, he lifts you up, lightly plopping you down onto the desk. Your back hits the wood, and then Ghost is forcing your legs open, his hard cock sliding over your pussy.
“Eyes on me,” comes a voice near your head.
It’s Soap.
His large hand goes to your throat, then he’s tipping you back, and you’re opening wide, taking him down as Ghost pushes your legs wider to sink in. Your pussy flutters around Ghost, but your body is needy, and it greedily takes as much as he’s willing to give.
Ghost rolls his hips, pausing between each to help you accommodate to his size. Once you’ve taken him to the hilt, he begins to pound into you, every thrust bouncing you down Soap’s cock. Through the fabric of your oversized sweater, Soap palms your breasts, and this keeps you from sliding away from either of them.
You fall into a lust-filled haze. An orgasm roils up, passes through your body and out into your limbs. It sets every nerve alight, but neither of them stops. A second comes soon after, and it’s only then that you realize Ghost’s angle is the perfect alignment for him to rub on your clit as he thrusts into you.
Ghost’s thrusts become a stuttering thing that end with his own release. His hands go to your thighs. He guides them open, presses down on the insides, and Soap slips out of your mouth. He reaches over your body to also hold onto your thighs, keeping them open.
Everyone watches as Ghost fills you up, and when he slips out, he catches his release and presses it back inside. This is an act of ownership, but no one seems upset by it, which can only mean that they all plan to do this with you again. And that is something you’d never say no to.
All of you hang in the air for the moment, and then hands disappear only to be replaced by new ones. You’re flipped onto your stomach, and then dragged off until one foot is on the ground, one knee is on the top of the table, and you’re bent at the waist over the side of the desk.
Then Gaz is there, grasping your hips, taking Ghost’s place. He keeps you steady, thrusting upward in steady strokes that have you leaning back against him. Gaz’s head dips forward to rest against the side of your head, and the two of you is all there is until he comes, mixing himself inside you alongside Ghost.
But Soap does not take his place. Instead, Price steps up, sliding his hand to the back of your neck. He tugs gently, arching your neck and back so that you look into his face.
“How much more can you take, love?”
You lick your lips and consider. Already, you feel the soreness and ache slipping into your muscles, but it’s a good sensation, and you want more of it.
“Whatever you desire to give to me,” you answer softly, and Price’s expression is a pleased one.
With tenderness, Price eases your knee off the table, and releases his grip on your neck. “Go sit in Soap’s lap, love,” whisper’s Price, lightly smacking your ass as you wobble toward Soap.
Soap reclines in a chair in the corner. When you get close, he reaches out, grabbing you by the thighs, drawing you into his lap. You do not face him, but the room, your legs spread for everyone to see as Soap slides inside and starts bouncing you on his cock.
There is no embarrassment on your part. Your head falls back to lean against Soap’s shoulder as he takes control. Your eyes flutter, and you briefly glimpse Ghost kneeling between your legs. He pushes up his balaclava, and then your lids completely shut when his mouth comes down on your clit.
Ghost sucks it into his mouth, the tip of his tongue flicking against it at the same time. The contrast that is the two of them has you slipping into a whimpering mess. You cannot speak. There are only your fingers digging into someone’s flesh as the two of them bring you to yet another orgasm.
This orgasm has no end, and you don’t even realize Soap relinquishes control to Ghost until the large man is lifting you up, sliding his arms under your thighs to hold you aloft to fuck you while standing. The mix of them inside you begins to seep out around Ghost’s cock, and you can see everything happening between your bodies.
Your forehead rests against his shoulder, and then someone steps up behind you, pressing against your other entrance.
“Please?” It’s Price.
“Yes,” you groan as Ghost hits deep and it sends your back arching. It’s the only thing you manage to say, and it is a strangled sound.
Price is gentle as he eases in. The two of them take turns pumping in and out of you, until you’re a sweaty mess. Your sweater sticks to your skin, and you want it gone, but without the ability to form words, you simply deal with it, reveling in their shared taking
You surrender to them, allow them complete control. But you’re safe, protected, sandwiched between them. You slide one arm behind Price’s neck while the other rests on Ghost’s left shoulder. Removing your forehead from Ghost’s right shoulder, you lean back on Price and he turns his face into your neck, inhaling your scent.
“It could always be like this,” he murmurs into your ear. “Would you like that?”
You nod, and you feel his smile against the line of your throat.
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@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie
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You Know Who To Call (Billy Russo)
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Pairing: Billy Russo X F!Reader
Summary: You went on a date hoping to forget him, but Billy was right there to remind you who to call
Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (pls wrap it), p in v, creampie dom!Billy, Billy canonically likes it rough, possesive!Billy, protective!Billy, jealousy (both of them) choking, bit of breath play, dirty talk, language
WC: 3.5k yall are already used to it
A/N: why my horny ass decided to write this knowing damn well itll flop I've not fucking idea, all I know is that that manipulative borderline psychotic and homicidal fuck can fuck me six ways till sunday so, I wrote it. Might write more, Billy has a lot of potential. So if you're one of two people are reading this, enjoy :)
Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!
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You really should’ve known better than to come to the one bar you knew he often went to. Especially when you were then with another man, on a date. But in your defense, you never talked about being exclusive. You were pretty damn sure he was fucking anyone he could get his hands on, and with a face like his, that wouldn’t be too difficult. 
Or so you thought. Billy Russo was a complicated man, and you were yet to realize just how much. 
You knew you were setting yourself up for failure the second you said yes to this man’s advances, knowing that BIlly was the only man in your mind. But you wanted to force yourself to move on, and have other options. Oh how mistaken you were. The second this man opened his mouth you were already regretting your decision. It began with him judging your choice of drink, saying something along the lines of 'I thought pretty women could only handle cheap wine' and it just went downhill from there.
You were constantly checking your phone, wishing time went faster, so you could at least say you stayed long enough to be able to leave without seeming rude. To say that your night was going to end rather disappointedly was an understatement. Maybe an hour went by when you were standing up, excusing yourself with the reason of having to be up early due to prior plans. And you thought that was it. 
“Hey, the night doesn’t have to end so soon. We can head back to my place if you just want to get out of here.” And there it was. He stood up as well, crowding you in an instant, getting all up in your space to block you from leaving.
“I really can’t. Listen,” You took a step back to give yourself some room, “You seem like a great guy, but I’m not really feeling this. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” He scoffed in disbelief, his face slightly twisting with hints of anger as he stepped forward again, making you take another step back, “You led me on all night, made me buy you drinks and all you have to say is you’re sorry?”
“Listen, I wasn’t leading you on. And I didn’t ask you to buy me anything, you insisted,” You stared at him with disbelief, baffled that he would feel so entitled, “Just because I agreed to going out with you doesn’t mean you get to take me home.” 
“Well I’m getting something, you can’t just leave me like this.” 
You were already done with tonight, and you didn’t want to hear anymore of this. You simply shook your head and started to walk past him towards the exit, but he grabbed your arm with a grip so tight you audibly winced.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me you bitch.” He spat, pulling your body against his with a forceful grip on both of your arms. You groaned in distaste, turned your head away from him and shoved at his chest, but he didn’t let you go.
“Get the fuck off me.” You said loudly, tugging your arms against his grip, but his grip only tightened. You were about to start screaming when you felt a tug on your shoulder, your date letting you go so suddenly you stumbled back, right into someone’s chest. 
“Get your fuckin' hands off her.” Oh.
You were confused, not quite registering what had just happened. Your date looked both confused and angry, but not at you, but at whoever just pulled you to his chest. And you only realized when you heard the man behind you speak. You would recognize his voice anywhere. 
“Billy what—” You turned your head back to look up at him, your back still to his chest as he held your arm now. His dark eyes only met yours for just a second in acknowledgement, and oh he was pissed. He tore his eyes away from yours to look at your date, jaw tight and back straight as he stood behind you, like he was marking territory. 
“Who the fuck are you man?” You date asked, anger lacing his words, but he didn’t dare move.
“Me?” Billy grinned slightly, his head twitching ever so slightly as he moved past you, his arm brushing your shoulder as he now stood in front of you, an arm behind his back as you gripped his hand tightly, preventing him from standing any closer to your date, “I’m just the guy that's gonna drag your face across the pavement if you ever get anywhere near her again.”
“Billy.” You said softly, you knew he heard you, but he otherwise ignored you. 
Your date stood with both a shocked and angry look on his face, but he said nothing. Billy was a good half a head taller than your date, and he wasn’t a man you’d want to get into a bar fight with.
“Get the fuck outta here before I break your jaw.” You squeezed your eyes shut at Billy’s words, you knew he could get physical pretty quickly, and the last thing you needed tonight was to have to pull him out of a fist fight. 
Your date stared at Billy for a long time, but he didn’t move a muscle, like they were doing this silent macho thing, see who backed out first. And Billy wasn’t exactly a man known for backing down easily. Your date ultimately surrendered, scoffing loudly as he shook his head.
“You can have her man. I didn’t even want to fuck that whore anyway.” He mumbled under his breath as he turned to walk. But Billy definitely caught his words, and with a clench of his jaw he lunged forward, mostly likely to slam your date’s face into a table, but you held him back, tugging his hand. 
“Billy, hey.” You said his name loud enough to get his attention. He was facing you now, his hand coming to touch your face as he made sure you were okay. You said nothing, only taking a deep breath when you felt his touch. And it made you forget why you even considered sleeping with anyone else in the first place.
“C’mon,” Were the first words out of his mouth, his dark eyes locking with yours for a second before he was dragging you out of the bar by your arm. You sputtered, saying his name in protest but you never actually made any effort to stop him. He shot you a look of irritation regardless.
“Get in the car. Now.” 
“I’m not getting in your car Billy.” You argued when he stopped in front of his car. He stared at you, and you simply folded your arms over your chest, giving him a defiant look that made his eye twitch. 
He said nothing as he looked around him for a second, making sure no bystanders were walking by to get the wrong impression of what was going on. Then, he stepped forward making you back right into the side of his car, and one hand came to rest flat against the car door, trapping you between his much taller frame and his car. You took a sharp inhale when he leaned down and you jumped when his other hand grabbed the back of your neck.
“I’m not gonna say it again darlin’. Get. In the fuckin’. Car.” He emphasized every word, his nearly black eyes not once leaving your face he spoke. You swallowed hard, inhaling shakily when he forcibly moved you, his hand still on the back of your neck as he opened the passenger’s door. 
You don’t think you’ve ever moved so fast in your entire life. You were sitting in his car faster than your brain could process it. Well so much for wanting to move.
It was like you were on autopilot, you walked right into his penthouse like so many times before. Only that this time, it wasn’t exactly all fun and games. You heard Billy slam the door shut behind him. You took a deep uneven breath, preparing yourself for the screaming match that was going to ensue before you turned around to face him. He was standing in front of you in three long strides, and you’d be lying if you said that the sight of him this angry didn't make you rub your thighs together a bit.
“You know that wasn’t necessary right? I didn’t need saving, and I definitely didn’t need you to bring me to your apartment.” You spoke first, but clearly, judging by the way his face twisted, it must’ve been a mistake. 
“You shitting me? Of course it was necessary. You see the way he was grabbing you? Like he thought he owned you or somethin’.” He huffed, shaking his head at you. 
“Sound familiar?” 
He stared at you with confusion for a second, then he rolled his eyes at you, “That’s different and you know it.”
“Oh really? Tell me Billy, how is it different?” You asked rhetorically, hands on your hips and head tilted as you looked at him.
He shook his head, eyes not meeting yours now, “I just don’t know why you went out with some asshole, what were you fuckin’ thinkin’?” 
You laughed dryly, running a hand over your face in disbelief, “What was I thinking? Well I don’t know, I just wanted to have fun with someone, see someone.” You caught the way his eyes flickered over to you again, and you could see the anger begin to flicker in his eyes, so you continued, “I mean, you’ve been doing it. You’ve been fucking Dinah Madani for weeks, so I thought I would fuck someone else too.” 
Confusion and disbelief flashed over his face, his eyebrow furrowing as he ran a hand through his black strands as he tried to process the words that had just left your mouth, “What? I haven’t—” He laughed dryly and shook his head at your stupidity, “I haven’t fucked Dinah Madani. And I wasn’t gonna.” 
You stared at him for a few seconds, face twisting with confusion and your lips parted as you tried to speak, “Billy, I saw you at the bar with her last weekend, I’m not fucking stupid.”
“Yes, I had a few drinks with her a couple times, and she did some training at Anvil, but I never fucked her.” He explained, sighing with irritation like he was explaining something to a petulant child, “I just needed some information from her, that was all.” 
You didn’t even know what to say, you felt stupid, and a bit angry at yourself for acting without thinking of even asking him what had really happened. Because despite your confusing and unlabeled relationship, you had no secrets, and you told each other everything. You laughed in disbelief at yourself, leaning your face into your hand as you shook your head. Billy grinned softly, knowing he had gotten through to you. He stepped forward, pulling you to his chest by your arms. You looked up at him, lips pulled into a defeated pout that he leaned down to kiss softly. 
“We still have a problem though.” He said as he pulled back. You frowned softly.
“What?”
“That you, darlin’, need to be reminded that if you wanted to be fucked, it has to be done properly,” His hand gripped your jaw, his long fingers sprawling over your neck as he held your face, “And if you want it done properly, you call me.” 
His mouth was on yours before you could reply, his hand holding your face in place as he slipped his tongue. You whined softly as your hands found his perfectly slicked back hair, and certainly tugged it out of place. You didn’t know exactly when he hoisted you up on his waist, or when he carried you to his bedroom. But you did notice when he unceremoniously tossed you on his bed, your back hitting the mattress with a thud. You took a deep breath as you leaned on your elbows, watching as he pulled his burgundy jumper over his head, his jeans following the same fate on the floor before he was crawling over you. He crashed his lips against yours again as his hand lifted your dress over your hips. His thigh settled between your thighs and he brushed it against your clothed clit, making you gasp softly.
“Please Billy.” You said breathless, looking up at him with pleading eyes. His lips tugged into a smirk, thoroughly pleased by your begging.
“You want me to fill you up baby? Want me to fuck you into this mattess ‘til you forget how to talk to other guys?” He said into your ear, words coated with arousal as he ran a hand over your thigh, fingers squeezing your skin. 
You nodded quickly. 
“I wanna hear you say it.” 
You swallowed thickly and took a deep breath as you tried to speak, his almost black eyes staring at you so deeply that you knocked the air right out of your lungs, “Please Billy. Please fuck me, I need you.” 
The growl that rang in his throat was nearly animalistic, and he was flipping you over on your stomach in a matter of seconds. You gasped softly when your face hit the mattress and your arms were stretched out in front of you. Billy sat back on his knees behind you, one hand pulling your dress the rest of the way over your head, while the other tore your panties down your thighs. He took in the sight of you, all sprawled out in front of him, ass out and ready to let him take you as he pleased. He’d be lying if he said the sight didn’t shoot straight to his cock. 
He spat on two fingers and without a prior warning, he pressed them against you, spreading the wetness over your clit. You gasped softly, the sound slowly turning into a quiet mewl as he drew quick circles over your clit. Though the sound quickly turned into a choked out cry when two long fingers slipped into your dripping core. 
“Ooh fuck Billy,” You whimpered softly, your hands clenching the sheets as his fingers filled you. 
He took in your sounds happily as he pumped his fingers gradually quicker. He buried them knuckle deep each time he slammed them into you, your whimpers quickly turning into moans. He scissored them open with each snap of his wrist, your core soaking the palm of his hand. He could feel it too, the way your walls tightened around his fingers, the way your thighs shuddered and your toes curled. And he had you coming all over his hand the second his fingers curled against that one spot that made you see white. His fingers slowed as you shook violently, and only then he pulled his fingers out. He left you empty so suddenly you lifted your head to look at him over your shoulder. You caught him sucking on his fingers with closed eyes for a long second, and the sight made you clench around nothing. 
His eyes quickly opened to yours and he smirked as he tugged his boxer briefs down and kicked them behind him to join the rest of his clothes. He then leaned forward, taking himself in his hand as he positioned himself behind you. He rubbed the head of his cock through your folds a couple of times, coating himself in your slick. You whimpered again, your head falling forward as his name fell from your lips. He gave you a hum of acknowledgement and leaned over you, one hand pushed your head down against the mattress as the other lined up his cock at your entrance. Just as you whined at his forceful action he filled you, burying himself to the hilt with one snap of his hips. Your whine turned into a cry and your hand fisted the sheets as pleasure filled your body. 
Billy gave a breathy groan of satisfaction as your walls clenched around him. He held the back of your neck, making sure you kept your head down while the other gripped your hip, holding you perfectly in place as he drew his hips back, pulling almost all the way out before he snapped his hips forward. And again, and again until he was fucking you into the mattress, and it was anything but gentle. 
Your whines quickly turned into moans and muffled cries, and Billy always took particular note of the squeal that ripped from your throat everytime he hit that perfect spot. When it got hard to breathe, you turned your head so your cheek was pressed against the mattress instead, and Billy’s hand moved from the back of your neck to wrap around your hair. And he happily took in the pathetic sounds each of his thrusts ripped from you. 
“Sound so fuckin’ pretty makin’ all those sounds for me.” The head of his cock brushed against your g-spot and another squeal of his name left your mouth, proving his point, “You think your asshole friend woulda made you cry his name like that?”
You shook your head as much as you could, with the position you were in, but he wanted to hear you say it, so he pulled you up by your hair. 
“Say it.” 
“No! Only you can!” You probably sounded so pathetic, you knew your voice was shaking. He gave you a grunt in response as he leaned his body over yours, his chest pressed against your back and his lips found the back of your neck.
“Didn’t think so.” He sunk in his teeth, sucking and biting that one spot in your neck he knew drove you insane, the pace of his pistoning hips never faltering.
The hand on your hair moved to the front of your neck, and the one of your hip also moved to your neck. He forced your head back, both of his hands holding your throat as he leaned down, lips capturing yours into a messy kiss. You could barely keep your lips closed long enough to kiss him properly. But he kept your head in place, and a guttural moan left his mouth when you pushed back on him as he fucked you, your ass meeting his hips.
“Shit, keep fuckin’ yourself on my cock. Fuck just like that darlin’.” He hissed, his fingers digging into the column of your neck most likely to leave bruises he’d brag about in the morning. “Fuck, you’re fuckin’ stupid if you think I’d want any other pussy when yours takes my cock so well.” 
“Please, please Billy I’m—” You didn’t need to finish your sentence, he knew your body better than anyone else on this earth, he could feel the way you clenched his cock the same way you did his fingers, and he was pressing his fingers to your swollen clit in an instant. 
“Come for me, do it now.” He groaned in your ear, moving his hand to the base of your neck as he held you to his chest, his fingers on your clit moving at the same pace as his hips. 
It hit you quick, and fucking hard. You were shaking so hard you probably would have slipped right off his cock if he hadn’t been holding you. And his name fell from your lips over and over as you came all over him. And with the way your walls gripped his cock like vice, he wasn’t much further.
“Fuck, that’s my girl.” His eyes rolled into the back of his head, curses sputtering from his lips as he gave you a few more thrusts before he held you down on his cock and spilled himself deep inside you with a breathy moan. 
His head fell forward, dark strands falling over his face and eyes still closed as he held you, his quick and uneven breaths filling your ears. Your own head fell back on his shoulder, eyes also closed as you reached back and your fingers brushed over the shorter hairs on the back of his head. He gave you a quiet hum, lips pressing against your neck briefly in a nonverbal praise before he pulled himself out of you, your mixed releases dripping down your thighs. He maneuvered you both into a spooning position, him behind you and you pulled flushed against his chest. Neither of you said anything for a little while, simply laying in comfortable silence as you both fell back into normal breathing. 
“Hey,” He mumbled into your ear, and you half nodded in acknowledgement, “You know that if you ever, ever, need anythin’ you call me. No one else.”
You bit your lip, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder, “Yeah.” 
“Yeah?”
You nodded, lips tugged into a sly smile, “Yeah. But y'know, I might need another reminder, just to be sure I don’t forget.” 
Billy smirked, in the back of his head wanting to take you all over again for merely suggesting it. He gripped your jaw and pressed a hard but deep kiss to your lips before saying,
“Oh trust me baby, you won’t wanna talk to anyone else after I’m done with you.”
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skatingbi · 5 months
Text
When Zoro is shoved out of the gallery by Sanji, his first thought is "What the fuck" and his second is "I really said that out loud".
To be fair, Zoro isn't great with words. For one, he never thinks before he speaks 90 percent of the time. He also simply never saw a chance to compliment anyone, really. Zoro is the epitome of act first, talk later. Always has been, and probably always will be until the day he dies. Until a few seconds ago.
When Zoro noticed the cook's dual toned eyes, too many thoughts surfaced at once for him to decipher all of them. He definitely thought they were beautiful, but he didn't mean to say that sappy shit out loud. Sanji's blue eye was also nearly identical to a shade that some glaciers take on in the North Blue. He vaguely remembers other pirates talking about them here and there. He's never seen them, but if he had to guess what type of blue the ice was, he would think of the color of Sanji's eye.
Now, on the other side of the gallery, Zoro leans against the door. After the reaction he got from Sanji, he's not sure where to go from here. He didn't even mean to say that out loud either. It just... came out. Most of what Zoro says does that, but looking at Sanji in that moment made his brain short circuit, his heart stutter, and his lungs hitch. He felt something he's never put a name on before, and because of that, he didn't question it until after Sanji kicked him out.
Zoro's feelings about Sanji are complicated at best. He used to not think about it, but after this, maybe he should. He runs a hand down his face and sighs. He can feel how warm his cheeks are and knows for a fact that if anyone came in, they'd notice the embarrassingly bright blush he's sporting. So he pushes himself off the door and goes to the crow's nest to meditate, train, sleep, or something that will take his mind off of this.
Meditating doesn't work. Neither does training, or sleeping, or keeping a safe distance away from Sanji. In fact, Sanji is actively avoiding him. Has been for the past few days. That wouldn't be out of character for the blond on a normal day, but it's more frequent. Sanji actively kicks the swordsman out to do the dishes himself instead of letting him dry them like he usually does. It's fucking confusing. Zoro can understand insecurity if the main problem about this whole situation is that. He's no stranger to it. The issue, though, is that Sanji's eyes are gorgeous to him, and Sanji doesn't see it. He's just trying to understand why.
A few more days pass by like that. The crew, especially Nami and Usopp, notice. Only Nami makes it known that the crew is very much aware of the awkward shift in Zoro and Sanji's dynamic. It's made especially clear when Nami corners Zoro while he's about to fall asleep on the deck.
"Alright, spill the beans." Nami demands with her hands on her hips and an eyebrow raised. Zoro only opens one eye to acknowledge the redhead in front of him, who's blocking the sun, and it makes Zoro mildly agitated.
"What do you want now, witch, I'm trying to sleep."
Nami rolls her eyes, "I know you're dense, but you're not stupid." She huffs a sigh and bends at the waist over Zoro to glare at him. "You and Sanji have been weirder than usual. Fighting is one thing, but ignoring each other for days is unusual, even for you two." Nami explains.
Zoro rolls his eyes. Sure, him and the shit cook haven't talked, but that's none of anyones business. Let alone Nami's. For all he knows, she could just blackmail him with the embarrassing ordeal of being known. He'd honestly rather not, thank you very much.
"Fuck off, Sanji's the one ignoring me. Let me sleep in peace." Zoro argues back and closes his eyes, resting his arms behind his head to hopefully fall asleep while he still can.
Nami groans in frustration. Okay, fine. If those two idiots want to ignore each other, then she'll let them. It's not like it's any of her business anyway. She just has a bet to win against Usopp, and she's not above changing the stakes to be in her favor. She just has to wait a little longer.
Some part of Nami suspects that Sanji is avoiding Zoro because of something deeper, more personal than just their usual fights. She's willing to bet money that their weird little spat is based on this. She doesn't have evidence. She just has a feeling, and usually, it's right. What's that saying again? Always trust a woman's intuition? With this knowledge in mind and with an ulterior motive, she leaves Zoro alone to have a gay crisis in peace.
What Sanji and Zoro don't know, though, is that she already knows Sanji has heterochromia, and she also doesn't give a shit. She noticed when sanji was too drunk in skypiea while dancing with the wolves, and to be honest, she's surprised no one else even noticed. This knowledge has led her to believing that Zoro said some stupid shit about it. Go figure.
Zoro goes back to trying to sleep. Behind closed eyelids, he can still see a pretty icy blue eye hidden by long blond hair. He wants to see that again. Directly after that thought, though, Zoro suddenly has an epiphany. An almost life changing realization that will most likely fuck him over in the near future. It's laughable how he's never realized it given the past few days.
Zoro likes him.
Sanji and Zoro, for lack of a better word, dance around each other for the next few days. If someone asked Sanji why didnt they just go back to how they normally did things, he couldn't answer them. He can't answer them because he knows that the real issue isn't his eyes. It's what they mean to him.
Sanji is a sentimental man. All of the things people have given him are kept one way or another. He has a drawer in his kitchen for the small trinkets or rocks Luffy finds. He still has that dial Usopp let him keep. He keeps recipe books given to him by Robin on the counter away from the sink. He even kept Nami's hairtie despite nearly snapping it the other day.
There are other things he's kept, too. Franky's things aren't really trinkets, but that doesn't mean they aren't important to him. Franky once gave him a gag gift of matching sunglasses, and he refuses to wear them. They're still tucked into one of the drawers in the dresser next to his bunk. Chopper and him share spices since they're multi use, and it means a lot to him to have his safe space also be useful for others in the crew. He loves being given things, no matter how small they may be.
When his mother died, the first thing he wanted to do was gouge out his eye. When he thinks back on it, the only reason why he couldn't is because he was scared. What small 10 year old wouldn't be? Now, although he loves his eyes deep down, he still runs away by hiding them. It's a gift that he hates, but deep down cherishes like it'll get stolen from his grasp one day.
He's aware that he processes grief by running away until it catches him on a warm, sunny day. Lately, that's exactly what it's done. Grief is hunting him, and he's the deer being shot in the leg so he's unable to run. Refusing to look into a mirror does nothing to stop it.
So, yeah, Sanji is ignoring Zoro. He knows why he's ignoring the moss ball. That doesn't mean Zoro will let him, and he's pretty sure the swordsman is going to corner him eventually. Sanji just needs to stall for time.
But that's not the only reason why he's avoiding him.
"Marimo, I swear to god, if you don't get out of my kitchen, I'm gonna shove my foot up your ass!" Sanji is not in the mood for this. Zoro knows Sanji is not in the mood for this. Will this stop Zoro from getting in the cook's business? Absolutely not.
"I'd like to see you try, curly brow, now shut the hell up and let me dry the goddamn dishes." Zoro huffs as he pushes Sanji out of the way with his hip. Sanji delivers a swift kick to his leg as retaliation.
"Fuck you I can do it myself!"
"Well fuck you because I'm gonna do it anyways!"
"Gods, why are you so insufferable!?"
Now, here they are, with Sanji being forced to let Zoro dry the dishes while he washes them. Sanji keeps a reasonable distance away with a cigarette in his mouth, exhaling smoke through his nose occasionally. Zoro tries (and fails) to not let his eyes wander to Sanji. The cook's eyebrows are scrunched, and his mouth is downturned. The cigarette hangs loosely from his lips as he silently works.
Once Zoro actually realized a few weeks ago he liked Sanji in a (probably) romantic way in some form, it was hard for him to not stare. Zoro never felt attraction to someone like that. He's definitely thought some people were handsome, but that's about as far as it went. Looking back, Zoro thinks that maybe he always thought Sanji was good looking. The swordsman couldn't help but look at all the things that made Sanji his own unique person, handsome, and especially pretty. It's not like he would say that out loud, though. He'd rather attempt to fight Mihawk again than say all that shit out loud to anyone.
Zoro's prolonged silence makes Sanji fidget in place, leaning side to side on each foot, while he washes the last dish. After that his cigarette is nothing but the filter and he snubs it out on the ashtray nearby. To combat the nervous energy, Sanji washes his hands and uses his hip to shove Zoro so he can grab the towel he uses to dry his hands. He's earned a glare by the swordsman, "Oi, the fuck is that for, cook? You wanna fight?" Zoro challenges, and Sanji would be a fool to say no.
"Bring it on, shitty swordsman!"
On the deck of the sunny and in the middle of their routine fights, another tragic incident has occurred: Sanji's hair is in his way. Not only that, but Zoro decides to take advantage of it. The blond isn't sure what Zoro gets out of wanting to see something that Sanji would rather keep hidden, but he'll be damned if he lets Zoro win.
Zoro, the conniving bastard, keeps getting into his blind spot. Or at least trying to because Sanji knows better, and he's sailed with Zoro long enough to recognize the little hints when he fights. Zoro's right foot shifts to his left, but his arm holding wado twists minutely, and it's barely noticeable, except Sanji knows he can block this with a kick.
Zoro uses the blunt edge of his sword to strike, and it lands on Sanji's left shin, raised high enough for him to take advantage of his flexibility. Sanji looks into Zoro's eyes with a challenge, and Zoro grins. Not the scary one he reserves for their enemies, though. There's a subtle crinkle on the corners of his eyes and this smile feels genuine. Were those dimples? He never noticed those before.
Huh. Thats new.
Wait. Why is Zoro looking at him like that? Like he's exciting and interesting? That's the only time Zoro smiles like that: when something is worthy to devote his full attention to. It does something to Sanji. It's the same feeling he had when Zoro told him his eyes were beautiful. Sanji's footing falters, and he nearly stumbles gracelessly to land on two feet. Zoro huffs out a sound suspiciously like a laugh and takes a step closer, sheathing his sword in the process.
Sanji takes a step back, but Zoro is zeroed in on a mission he's determined to complete. He slowly walks forward until their faces are inches away, and he raises his hand slowly.
The blond holds his breath, not moving and looking right at Zoro. Like tunnel vision only on the hawklike golden eyes before him. That feeling is back, too, and it's stronger with how close they are suddenly. Sanji wonders if the rest of the crew are out on the deck as well, but the only thing he can hear is Zoro's labored breathing from their fight and the way the wind makes his earrings hit together. A soft melody of chimes and ocean waves.
He needs to get his shit together.
"Get the fuck out of my face, Moss." Sanji orders through gritted teeth. He could back away, kick the swordsman like he usually does, but his feet feel like theyre nailed to the floor. Zoro doesnt move. Neither does he.
Well, his legs dont move. His hand does. Zoro's scarred knuckles show a gentleness that almost makes Sanji shiver. A tall, muscular, scarred swordsman capable of displaying softness similar to somebody holding priceless art made of glass. That's how Zoro brushes his hair away from the cook's face oh so slowly, dragging it out and tempting Sanji to either kick the shit out of the man or do something he might regret. He almost wants to lean into the touch and relish in it. He's never felt gentleness like this before, and it terrifies him deep down where the subject of his trauma lies.
Zoro takes in Sanji. His skin is somehow still pale despite the days in the harsh sun, the only evidence being the freckles decorating his hooked nose, cheeks, and part of his forehead. What Zoro cares about the most, though, is his eyes. Finally, at the risk of displaying a side of him he never thought he had, he can take in the pretty brown and blue eyes that he's thought of for the past few weeks. He doesn't miss the uncertainty the cook displays through the confused arch in his dark curly brows and parted lips.
There's a lot of silence, which is uncharacteristic of them. They've never gone so long without talking before unless one of them was in a coma. Sanji's just about to escape via insults and physical violence until-
"Huh, your eye is kinda like those glaciers in the North Blue." Zoro mumbles, a quiet baritone that vibrates in Sanji's chest despite the only point of contact being the back of a calloused hand on his cheek. Suddenly he feels lightheaded and warmth on his face, spreading to his ears to make them uncomfortably hot.
Sanji's face is somehow ever prettier when he's blushing, and that shocks Zoro out of his thoughts enough to pull away and attempt to make a beeline for the crow's nest. Sanji stares for one, two, three seconds, and then delivers a swift kick to the back of Zoro's knees as soon as he turns around.
"You...you fucking dumbass swordsman! You fucking pervert! Shut the fuck up or I'm gonna kick your fucking ass into the ocean!"
"Hah?! What the hell, shit cook!?"
Now what the actual fuck. Thats twice, fucking twice now that something Zoro said or did made Sanji a fucking inconsolable mess in the weirdest most cliche teenage romcom novel kind of way. What the fuck. How was this happening? Why is he so flustered, and why is it because of that brute?
Sanji always thought he was straight. Women are pretty. They're gorgeous, empathetic (most of the time), graceful, with pretty skin and soft curves. He always appreciated that in women, and he most likely will until the day he dies. Zoro isn't any of those things. He's emotionally intelligent, sure, but you couldn't get the dumbass to take his own advice even if you held him at knife point. He's not soft, he's rough around the edges, with a stern expression even in his sleep. His smile is almost always weird as fuck (except for the one he gave him recently) too. The swordsman only cares about swords and alcohol, but you could probably add rice balls to that list too. Zoro is the epitome of sharp and rugged.
In conclusion, the only similarity between Zoro and women is that Zoro has big tits somehow. No, he is definitely not focusing on that now while making dinner.
The more Sanji thinks about Zoro, though, the more he thinks back to that fucking look. When Zoro brushed his hair away from his face and admired him. He fucking admired him for gods sake. Either Sanji is high as fuck or he's having a nightmare because nobody has ever looked at him with that kind of raw emotion before, not even women he flirted with.
Okay, so maybe there's more to him than meets the eye. That doesn't mean he likes the idiot. Maybe he just needs to learn to take a compliment.
As he thinks about this, he sets the kitchen table and portions out the penne alla vodka for all of the crew members. There's a bottle of sake for Zoro, and because he's feeling... a lot, Sanji allows himself a glass of wine today. As he's deciding between a red or white wine, Luffy barges into the kitchen.
"Sanji! Is food done?!" Luffy asks, practically bouncing towards Sanji excitedly. The captain's loud voice startles Sanji out of his thoughts and he jumps slightly. He quickly saves face to look at Luffy with exasperation.
"Yes, food's done. Go get the rest of the crew- hey, don't touch that!" Sanji says while swatting away Luffy's stretched arm from Nami's bread, "That's for Nami! I gave you enough already. Go get everyone else before you decide to terrorize the place." He demands to a laughing captain whos already out the door halfway through Sanji's reprimand.
Seconds later, the crew files in. Everyone sits and begins to eat. Chatter between them fills the room, and Sanji preens at the compliments for tonight's dinner.
Everything is normal for a while, and soon everyone finishes their food. Luffy only tried to steal Zoro's food a couple of times and only succeeded once, only because the moss ball let him.
Coming much too soon is dish washing. With Zoro. Sanji's conflicted feelings regarding the man have been making him avoid the target of his confusion the days following "The Incident", as Sanji refers to it, and he's not keen on experiencing whatever the fuck is going on between them again. Only because he doesn't know if he can hold himself together if Zoro looks at him like that once more.
It's silent for a few minutes. The repetitive motions soothe him, and Sanji lets his mind wander to mundane thoughts. As he chews on the filter of an unlit cigarette, he thinks of some tasks he needs to do this week. Inventory should be done tomorrow. Ask Nami how long until the next island, and maybe he should-
Zoro clears his throat, and for a moment, he thinks it was just Zoro being Zoro. He's probably trying to annoy him. Yeah, fat chance this time. Anyways, maybe-
"Cook," and Zoro looks at him, putting the plate he just dried down and placing his hands on the counter, "Why're you hiding?" He asks, and Sanji doesn't look at him. Zoro's eyebrows angle slightly in confusion.
Zoro left that question open ended on purpose. He knows Sanji well, or at least he likes to think he does, so asking directly would just make the cook confrontational. Hell, even a vague question would, too.
"What the hell are you talking about, marimo?" Sanji scoffs. Yeah, just as Zoro figured.
"You know what, and I ain't gonna spell it out for you," Zoro leans forward, looking at Sanji even though he tries tilting his head down and away from zoro's perceptive gaze, "Cmon, curls, I need to know if I overstepped. You may be a pain in my ass but I'd never hurt you." Zoro explains, and what the fuck.
Sanji has been asking himself that a lot lately. Yet he doesn't know how to reply to Zoro. All he knows is "You...Dumbass, you make me feel. You make me feel," He whispers like they're the only ones on the ship, "And I dont like it." He finishes.
He has no clue if it's the truth. Hell, earlier today, he was having a sexuality crisis over the man before him. Neither does Zoro. They both look at each other until Zoro looks away with resignation. "Okay." He whispers back.
Sanji learns quickly that he doesn't like that look on Zoro's face.
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