#another one from way down the req list | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherry-leclerc · 2 months

Text

stolen sweethearts ☆ cl16

genre: humor, angst, yearning, pining after three years so maybe slowburn??, fluff, second chances, whipped!charles

word count: 4.3k

Everything that leads to your wedding day and ends up with a knock on your door from your ex-boyfreind and an infamous letter.

req!...longer than intended, whoops! enjoy, anons :)

inspired by this !

“You’re making a mistake—”

Your eye twitches in the slightest, glossy lips curling into a snarl. “Shut up and be quiet.”

“What?”

Looking down at your boyfriend, dressed in Armani from head to toe and a blank expression, you wince apologetically. You grasp his hand tighter, knuckles becoming white, and smile widely, tears brimming the corner of your eyes. “Not you, honey!” A wet chuckle escapes when he visibly relaxes. “Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes.”

The engagement party was a pleasant surprise, filled with congratulations and early wedding gifts. It also brought out a large group of your friends from hibernation. “Felicidades,” Carlos says with a teasing smirk. “I truly never thought I’d see the day you settle.”

You bit the air. “Ha ha. That was the old me. New me is a completely changed woman thanks to true unconditional love. It’s crazy, try it out some time,” you shoot back.

The Spaniard simply scowls and bows away, returning to his earlier conversation. You consider yourself lucky—as if you committed a successful heist and somehow got away with it. He was handsome, with bright eyes, dark hair, and tempting lips. There truly wasn’t a single flaw to your now fiancé. And if there were, no one ironically saw it but Lando.

“You’re making a—”

“Mistake?” you finish off his sentence, sighing and rubbing your temples. “So you say.” You were in the middle of ordering yourself another piña colada when he hounded you like a madman. The Brit blows out with a tired expression, as if he were giving up on all of humanity.

“Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.” Angling your head to aim a dirty glare, you silently flip him off as he uses your earlier words against you.

“Aren’t you tired, Lan? It’s been three years, let it go.”

The blue eyed boy musters a threatening look and then rips your sweet treat away from your grip, immediately claiming ownership. Your brows fly up with an offended scoff. He chugs it all down before shaking his curls adamantly. “No, I will not let it go. Bloody hell, you’re one stubborn gal—you can’t go through with this.”

For the shortest second, a ray of hesitance strikes your face when you spot your fiancé, happily indulging in a round of shots with Carlos, Max, and Daniel. The group laughs with amusement over something he says. Your lips wobble, turning back to your friend, shooting lasers. “Why not? And please don’t say—”

“Charles.” Somehow, even with the mention of his name, your world still manages to spin off its axis, alarming your remaining sanity. Last time you saw the Monegasque was quite the day, ending with regretful words and inferior decisions. Lando grimaces when you let out a shaky breath. “You know you haven’t gotten over him. And I can guarantee you that this…” He spins his index finger around the flashing room. “Will not make the difference you're hoping it will.”

Have you made your Christmas list? I told you I need it at least two weeks prior. I work well under pressure, but for God’s sake, honey, this is too much. Charles chuckles, cleaning his pair of Ray Bans against the hem of your skirt. You sigh.

Oui. Making his way over to his duffel bag, he retreats a crumpled up piece of paper. Oh, um, shit. The green eyed boy cringes with embarrassment, pouting modestly. You swallow the giggle sliding up your throat when he frowns furthermore. I swear I had it! It must've gotten crushed with all my stuff. You know what? Charles strolls over to the flight of stairs. I’ll just make a new one, give me a sec.

As soon as he leaves, you yawn, stretching out like a cat. You can’t help the fluffy feeling; Christmas always adds to it. But something about this one felt distinctively different and you couldn’t place the reason why.

Your orbs flicker across the dimly lit room before falling back to the thin piece of paper. Patting your palms on your thighs, you get up and delicately open it up, curiosity overflowing. It shouldn’t have mattered, he was going to re-write it anyways.

His calligraphy had always been messy, and yet you always—somehow—understood; from the start of his sentences to the final dot. But this had to be the one and only time you wish you weren’t so comprehensive.

I’ve been thinking about us

A lot recently, actually

I’ve had some thoughts over these past few weeks and

I think we should just end things.

You bat your eyes, already feeling the pressure forming behind, stinging harshly. Was this meant for you? For you to find? Had it been intentional the moment he pulled out the fucking note? Would he just not come back and was it all an excuse?

But he does. And his pale face answers all of your questions.

Oh fuck, what have you done?

Rage fuels within you as you briskly brush away the acid sliding down your burgundy cheeks, heat rushing through your body. What have I done? What the fuck is this bullshit, Charles?

The Monegasque instantly rushes over, trying to get ahold of the piece of paper. You rapidly pull it away and force a step back as you let out a wet chuckle. He winces at the cold sound. Why would you do that? Why did you do that?

So you’re not denying it? You wrote this? You knew he had, his writing was imprinted into your brain like a manuscript you had professionally studied endless hours.

His skin only loses more color with every passing second. I’m not trying to blame you! I did. I did write that—but that was so long ago, you have to believe me, and I can explain! He kneels down, silently pleading you to bless him with a spare minute. Just let me explain it all to you.

I never took you for a poet, you bitterly spit out as you continue skimming through the full page. You have a lot on your mind—a lot. Scanning his desperate state, you can’t help but let out a soft whimper, scrunching your nose.

I’m not, shit. He grips your thighs from where he is and lets out a set of shaky breaths. Do you remember when—

I don't want to remember, you let out. I just simply want to forget.

He can creepily hear the way your heart is breaking and how his follows along with every word, puncturing his soul. You don’t even notice his coming arm, taking half of the note away and you irritatedly pull back, causing it to rip in half.

That does it, bullying you down to the floor where you start to cry. Out of anger, out of betrayal, out of everything. The green eyed boy tries to soothe you, mumbling into your hair but you’re too busy zoning out that you don’t catch a single confession.

Leave.

Charles flinches; you can feel it as he presses close to you. What?

He almost doesn’t recognize you when you furiously push him off, crawling back with a sense of suffocation. Pain crosses his eyes as he watches you create distance. I don’t want you anymore. I don’t want you here anymore—leave.

Anyone who knows Charles would know that he never gave up. He either spoke down on himself and pitied for a while, but never ever gave up. So this was a first. A tough pill to swallow.

If that's what you want me to do, then…okay. He stands up firmly, but inside he’s terrified that his limbs might call out for the day. But I love you. So don’t ever ask me to stop. And he walks out of your life after evilly twisting the knife.

With a new note and ring box deep inside his pocket.

Despaired eyes flicker over to where Charles eases into a conversation with Carmen and George, occasionally clenching his jaw. You hadn’t invited him—that’s just absurd—but he had gotten word from blabbermouth Pierre and you didn’t have the solidity to say no. From the looks of it, he didn’t want to be here either.

“Well I’ve got news for you, my dear friend, I love Hudson, so climb on board because this is happening…” Your voice trails off the second your ex looks up, as if he felt your eyes drawn onto him. Normally they’re dazzling and filled with joy, but the unfamiliar injured expression is like a punch to the gut. Your conscience calls you out on it, slapping you back into reality. Turning to Lando, you purse your lips tightly. “Who even is Charles?”

“God! When I saw Charles had showed up I just wanted to dig up a hole and never come out! Who would willingly go to their exes' engagement party?” Like a spinning top, you fume at Kika whose eyes shine at the sight of you, even after barking. “You should have warned me Pierre would do that. God, I hate that jerk sometimes.”

The Portuguese hums. “Me too…” You flick a questionable brow. Kika giggles, fixing your white gown, feathering it out like a dove. “I know, I should have! Bad friend, bad friend,” she childishly says. You can’t help rolling your eyes, returning your attention back to your reflection. “But if we’re being truthful here, someone should have warned Charles.”

“What are you talking about?”

Taking a quick sip of the complimentary champagne, she nods enthusiastically. “No one gave him a heads up. He thought it was just any other ordinary party—nowhere near a proposal.”

Your stomach churns, mortification taking over at the sudden report. Charles’ reaction was odd, but you couldn’t help filling up with satisfaction, climbing onto your high horse when you saw it. Never in a million years did you ever consider that being a surprise to him too. Hellooo? Coughing awkwardly, you swat her hand far away. Kika yelps.

“Yeah, well he deserves it.” You chug down the rest of her drink in a matter of seconds. Her wide eyes grow larger as she nervously giggles. “No one ever gave me a warning either.”

You were never one for being superstitious, but if anyone ever taught you something valuable, then it would be to never make contact with the groom before the wedding ceremony. He probably didn’t know any better—it of course wasn’t intentional—but that doesn’t stop your heartbeat from spiking up when you spot your fiancé sauntering over to where to stand.

“What are you doing here?” you hiss. Hudson furrows his thick brow. What are you talking about? I came to see you. You look fucking hot by the way. Squeezing your eyes shut, you shoo him, expensive jewelry clinking against one another. “Listen, that’s sweet and all, but you need to leave or else you’re going to ruin it!” You already did, the devil on your shoulder growls. You try relaxing, but can still feel the tenseness shifting between your shoulder blades. “Hudson, I’m dead serious, go.”

The stubborn brunette raises his arms in defense, mouthing a quick wow and walking back out. Were you being a tad bit colder than intended? Was there a better way to deal with the unwanted interaction? Yes. Probably. That’s what you tried to convince yourself because you knew the longer you pondered, the quicker you would realize that Lando was right.

You were making a mistake.

Charles isn’t any better off. He twists and turns the entire night, debating whether he should attend the occasion he knew would most likely make him flat line, but the curiosity definitely got to him. He always wondered what type of dress you would exclusively choose, perfect in every detail. Your hair, your heels. Your smile. Because they weren’t all the same. There was the kind that would sort of slip to a subtle, shy frown when he would compliment you, so he often saw lots of those. Or the kind that would cause your eyes to crinkle—he witnessed those when he would tickle you half to death, laughing loudly as tears would start to form. What he would kill to see you beam back at him once again…

But naturally, he talked himself out of it. What good does it do for him? The following morning, as he blinks strangely at the white wall, he starts to reminisce to himself. Like your first date—which was originally for both Carlos and Isa—but you both weaseled your way in. Or the time he taught you how to skate; only to remember he doesn’t know how to skate. He kept apologizing as the doctor secured your arm with a bright pink cast, but you only laughed, begging him to be the first to sign it. You were probably high off of meds, but still.

A peculiar feeling washes over as he spots an old shoe box. He almost dashes out of the arctic room when he realizes what it holds, but deliberately crunches down to open it.

And he knows what to do.

“He wants to see you,” Lily shrieks, peeking out into the hallway, then jumping back in. The teal dress was doing wonders for her skin tone, but you couldn’t help the agitation. Tell him I don’t want to see him. We have a whole lifetime to do that, you groan, slipping onto your heels.

Your bridesmaid clicks her tongue, widening the entrance as you hold back a much needed gasp. “I think you should tell him yourself…”

“I only need a minute,” Charles stammers, a thin layer of sweat coating his sharp nose. You’re too afraid to speak, so you robotically nod as you watch everyone scurry out, giving you two privacy. The twenty-six year old shyly gets closer, gently pinching a piece of paper in between his clammy grip. Your heart stops. “I walked beneath a ladder…on my way here,” he clarifies. You blink, long lashes fluttering like a fan. “I don’t think I’ll ever learn.”

If I had known you were this manly, I would’ve married you a lifetime ago. It slips out like a force of nature before you can stop yourself as your boyfriend halts from his task. The day was soon ending, late November, and you were both working together on painting the bedroom your dream shade. He had tried talking you out of it because it was simply—just white— but you had hounded him until he agreed. Now he stands here with a white coloring staining his dark gray shirt and you’ve never been happier.

Is that something you might want? Charles tries to play it cool, picking up from where he left off, lips itching into a goofy grin. To get married?

You’re almost glad he’s not facing you since you're as bright as a tomato. I won’t lie, I’ve definitely thought about it. You take a sip of water, suddenly caught with a dry throat. Could be nice.

The Monegaque flips around to face you, placing the paint roller down and strolling over to where you sit criss-cross. You visibly gulp; electricity slipping into the small room. It would be, wouldn’t it? His pink lips ghost over yours as you lean in a bit.

Yeah…

Could kiss you anytime I want… Kiss. Fuck you anytime I want… Another kiss. My fucking dream.

You moan against his touch, melting away like an ice cream sundae. I-I-I really think we could do it; be married. You had been together for so long now, you’re honestly surprised you hadn’t had this conversation any sooner. I would choose that exact same shade for my dress, you squeal, pointing at the wet wall. He hums. Not eggshell, not timid white—whipped cream, if you will.

Ahhhh, smart girl, he teases, nipping at your bottom lip. You practice this shit when I’m not around?

You laugh. I’ve been taught all kinds of tones from birth. My father was a painter himself, remember?

Of course I do, mon amour. He only created the best piece of art yet, he announces with a cheshire smile, watercolor eyes pointing down at you. You blush.

You’re such a klutz, you would probably do something stupid like walk underneath a ladder on our wedding day. You only do it every time, you say, wiggling out of his grip as he tickles you.

I swear I don't do that shit on purpose, it just happens, okay?

Pressing your nose against his, you cozily sigh. As long as we don’t see eachother until the actual ceremony, then I won’t be too upset.

Is that a promise?

You nod. That’s a fucking vow.

“You called it.”

Shifting uncomfortably, you chuckle when you nearly tip over. “Yeah, you’ve always been like that, but don’t think about it too much—it’s not like it’s your wedding.”

He clenches his sharp jaw. “Sure, but bad luck is bad luck, no? And I think I’m quite familiar with it.”

His words shouldn’t impact you so much years laters, but they do. Perhaps it’s due to his sorrowful stare, or his anxious tick, but it kills you just the same way it did that December night. You let out a light shudder, blinking away tears. “What do you want, Charles?”

“I wrote you a letter.”

God—a heartfelt note is the last thing you wanted and today was not the day to receive it either. Or ever. Not when it came from him. “I’m sorry, but it’s a bit too late for that. I’m about to be a married woman in approximately an hour.” You narrow your neat brows, flawless makeup shimmering against the sunbeams. “What gives you the right to walk back into my life, get shit off your chest for your own sake, and just for you to do what? Leave?”

You’re not being fair; not completely, but you can't help it. For the longest time, you thought you were over it, but clearly not. Charles licks his rosy lips, closing the gap between you two. “This isn’t something I just came up with.” He extends his arm out. “I wrote this three years ago.”

You inhale sharply, suspiciously eyeing the white paper. Please, just read it. Back then you could never turn him down, as much as you tried…

And it appears like today wasn’t any different.

It’s almost hilarious to think about how much you cried on your proposal date and how much you are now. You were a light rain at best when Hudson got down on one knee, but Charles stands here, tall, and you’re a complete waterfall.

“Y-you were going to ask me to…” A headache comes rolling in as you let out a wet cry. “This isn’t true; it isn’t real. You wrote this today and came here to fuck with me.”

The Monegasque shakes his head in panic, blood painting his higher cheekbones. “No—listen; the first letter you found, I did write that.” You grimace. “But I swear I took it back immediately. It’s just that you were getting so much hate during that time, and you would always cry, and then you’d say you were never crying…You were in a really dark place. Do you remember?”

How could you not? You knew not everyone was going to love you for dating one of the top Formula One drivers, but you never expected to read such brutal messages either. They were descriptive, and cruel, and ruthless, and it crushed you more than you’d like to admit. Which was fucking stupid since there was always a rather large community that loved and adored you, and Charles loved and adored you—and yet.

You release a shaky breath, desperately rubbing your eyelids. Lily would probably throw a fit at your now snotty and smudged makeup, but you couldn’t really think too deeply about any of that right now. “What does that have to do with anything?”

The brunette cradles your face and you hate when you lean into his warm touch. “I just wanted all of that to end; for you to feel better. And I could never actually say the words, so I drafted a letter, and I’m so fucking sorry, mon amour.” The tides crash inside your chest, getting harder to breathe. “It has been my biggest regret. Hurting you.”

He did more than hurt you; he broke you completely. Like a porcelain doll, like a trophy, like a mirrorball; it ruined you. But you know he knows that when his eyes slowly turn red. “But then I thought to myself, it doesn’t have to be that way! W-we could restrict comments, I could post something and stand up for the woman I love, and I could reassure her by vowing the most sacred thing there could ever exist…And I sat down and wrote this letter.”

If you thought Charles loved you before, then you’re a fool. He was utterly infatuated, devoted, obsessed and drowning in fervor. This letter may be old, slightly cutting loose around the edges, but it’s pinned as straight as can be. Not like the last.

“My only mistake was writing the first, and to even consider giving up on us. My best decision has been writing the second, and promising to stick by you the way I knew I was put on this Earth to do.” Charles carefully draws you in closer. “But I know nothing could ever fix the shit I’ve put you through, but I’m begging for the chance to try.” He kisses your temple and you relax against his lips. “I’m fucking desperate—just one.”

He slips out his original ring box and shines the gem back at you. It’s smaller than the one Hudson had given you, thinner too.

But it has you written all over.

A dizzy spell hovers over as you blink hastily. Charles doesn’t dare to breathe, waiting for you. “This isn’t…I just…” You bite your lower lip, glossy orbs flickering towards the band and then back at him. “Thank you for taking the time to apologize and clear things up; I really needed that, but I can’t do this.” You step out of his embrace, immediately freezing as if you were spending a winter in Iceland. His heart palpitates hysterically, green eyes skimming your features. “This isn’t what I had in mind—this isn’t what’s supposed to happen,” you press sternly.

“You’re right; it’s not.” Though you had just said the same, hearing him repeat it jams the knife deeper into your heart. You can hear chaos ensuing down the hallway, your friends chirping happily at one another. Contrary to what was going on in here. “It’s not because you can’t marry him. Because you know you don’t love him the way you say you do.” He laughs. “You tolerate him at best! I saw the way you avoided him getting down on one knee that day. You kept running off until you couldn’t anymore.” You burn up. “And who was the first person you looked for as he slipped that ring onto your finger? Me.”

“You’re paying too much attention to detail,” you retort, almost snarling.

“Sure, and that’s eggshell.”

It’s like a slap to the face. Your blurry vision focuses onto your dress for a second before snapping back up. “It’s whipped cream. The way I wanted.”

The Monegasque rolls his watercolor eyes, nostrils fuming. “Open up your eyes and see—It’s. Eggshell. Nothing about this is anything you ever dreamt of for your wedding! From your dress, to your ring, to your fucking fiancé!” He huffs. “This ring is all I could have afforded back then, but I would have sold my heart to get you a fucking star if that’s what you wanted…But you’ve always liked the simpler things. You always said you didn’t need a huge diamond to prove your devotion. Look at you now,” he says, signaling to your ring that swallows your hand whole. “All of this is fake.”

You’re sobbing now. You’re bubbling with anger. Because he was here, with you, out of all days. Because he was still the same man who broke your heart and stitched it back up.

Because he was right.

Brushing your nose with the back of your hand, you stare up weakly, defeated. “What do you want me to do?” you whisper, brows drawn together as he folds over completely over your goddess state.

“Don’t marry him and come with me.”

Though you knew that was what he wanted from the moment he walked past the door, it still knocked the last breath you held.

Things were never easy with him. There were constant fights—but that never seemed to matter by the end of the day. There was constant hate—but you always braved through it because you needed him.

And he steadied you. Charles was the first one to apologize, even if the majority of arguments weren’t his fault. Charles was the one who despite crushing his own heart, he wrote that letter to keep you untouched from his fans, from the media.

The letter hurt; like a motherfucker—and it would take a while to forgive…

But there’s no one else you would rather work through with it than with him.

Smiling softly, you nod, almost as if you can’t believe you’re actually doing this. Charles lets out a heavy exhale, laughing as he hugs you tightly, leaving you like a fish out on land. But you’re giggling through it all. “I have to talk to Hudson first, oh God, I have to talk to his family…” you shriek, pale and mortified.

“You know,” he starts. “We could skip all of that and just—”

“No,” you coldly press. Charles’ brows fly up. “I have to do this.” Distancing yourself from him, you wobble to the wooden door before looking back at the handsome man who stands proudly with his neat suit. Butterflies expand freely. “You’ll still be here when I get back, right?”

With a single hand pressed against his heart, he nods, as if you held the keys to all gates. “I’ll be wherever you need me to be from now on.” With that, you grin, eyes crinkling and exit the room.

What happened to your makeup? Lily squeals when she spots you running down the hallway, tripping over her tall heels as Alex catches her. There better be a reasonable explanation to this!

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @val-writes

815 notes · View notes

senseichaos · 2 months

Note

long time listener, first time caller

saw the piss thing and… do you do pissing inside? alastor cockwarming on the radio show, having to let out some tension, not wanting to get up and move to do it… maybe even lucifer on his thrown… just a thought 🫣

this is so good! Thank you for the req!

IMAGINE

(ik I use this gif all the time.. leave me alone)

PISS WARNING ⚠️

Sometimes when Alastor does his radio show, having you nestled on his cock is the best to get out his most confident work. And he loves the way you squirm. He'd always end up having to use his tentacles or some sort of magic restraint to refrain you from moving.

This time around however, he had forgotten to do one of the most important things before sitting you on his cock.

Go to the toilet.

It wasn't a big deal, really. He could probably hold it, and he didn't need to go that badly. However as he was talking about some recent news in hell, an idea popped into his tar black mind.

"And we have some acid rain scheduled for this afternoon! Make sure you get inside, or the cannibals will eat your body after it's rotted in the rain. Or I may eat you myself! I have been hankering for some sinner meat recently.." Alastor says, reciting the last thing on his news list for the broadcast.

"Any how, let's get some music playing shall we?" Alastor says the name and creator of the song before tuning his voice out, turning off his mic so he can organize the next part of his script.

Yet as he moves, he can't help but feel his bladder clench.

"Ngh.. Alastor, how much longer..?" You ask with a pathetic whimper, trying to wiggle your hips. Alastor's tentacles tighten around your thighs as this, ensuring you won't try to shift again.

Chuckling, Alastor smooths your hair back, giving you a dark look that causes goosebumps across your bare skin.

"Hm, well I do have to urinate..." He says, looking off into the distance in a sort of thoughtful way. Your face brightens, thinking he may end his show early and go to the bathroom... Then he'd fuck you silly, just how you like it.

"Really? Well then end the show!" You say, tugging on his coat. Though Alastor captures your wrists, placing them onto his shoulders.

"Now now, that wasn't what I was implying at all, fawn,"

Your eyes widen.

"Huh?"

"Stay still for me, hm?"

He presses his hands to your hips, pushing them down so your body's are completely connected at his cock. You shriek to yourself, realizing what he's about to do. Now you weren't going to object, no no, in your own way you were more excited than anything.

"Ah!"

Before you know it, with a sadistic gaze Alastor begins releasing his piss into your hole. You cry out, clasping your hands over your mouth as you lean back against the end of his desk. You can feel it all, warm and hot as it fills you to the brim. It tickles you in ways you can hardly imagine, making you see a myriad of twinkling stars as the liquid starts to seep from your full cunt.

And it just keeps coming, his cock twitching inside of you as it releases its last few spurts of urine into you. Alastor's pants are warm and soaked with his piss, but he doesn't make a move to take you off of his cock. Instead he just keeps you there, continuing his radio show whilst pretending that nothing happened at all.

"Alastor," you begin as he puts on another song. He hums in response. "You're all soaked.." You whine, pressing your hands to his soft and slimy tentacles.

He chuckles, pinching your cheek and watching you flinch. "Just how I like it, dirty. Now hush or I won't fornicate this full cunt with my seed, hm?"

You obey without a thought.

#proship #senseichaos #antishippers dni #senseichaosdrabbles #proship fanfiction #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel smut #smut #hazbin smut #alastor smut

619 notes · View notes

kisses4reid · 27 days

Text

convenient pt.4 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

pt. 3 (you cannot read this without prior reading)

summary - you don’t need help with your biology anymore, you need help understanding the chemistry that seems to be growing between you and spencer.

warnings - jealousy, dickhead guy, unwanted flirting, awkward spencer, mentions of getting run over and pouring rain, studying.

genre - college!fem!reader x earlyseasons!spencer, fluff, angst if you squint, jealousy trope

a/n - i hope you all enjoy this part. comment or put in a req to be added to the convenience taglist, if you’ve already asked and i haven’t mentioned you please message orso i can make sure you’re on my list for the next part! love you all 🫶

sat in a plush office chair, in a cool room, in a comfortable dress shirt, surrounded by the people he trusted most, spencer couldn’t seem to live in the moment.

now that’s not something you would suggest to the man when he’s sat in front of multiple gruesome photos and case files, usually he would be 100% focused, no bullshit, no wandering thoughts.

but suddenly he felt light, airy, like these cases were just another day and he would be confident either way. it wasn’t completely untrue, but it was odd. everyone else seemed to notice.

“spencer, are you okay?” aaron hotchner startled the man with his stern and concerned voice, everyone looking up at spencer as a natural reaction. spencer looked around the table, noticing a growing grin between garcia and morgan.

hotch continued, “if you need to sit this one out, by all means.”

spencer shook his head and adjusted his posture, picking up a profile to skim over. there was a small giggle from garcia that brought the attention of aaron.

“what’s going on?”

“reid’s distracted because of a certain someone…” morgan replied, biting the end of his ballpoint pen. garcia slapped his shoulder.

“don’t tease him, meanies. keep going, hotch.”

they were right. he was distracted and felt far away most of the time. he wanted to go somewhere comfortable, like a convenience store with a pretty employee to talk to.

ricky, a handsome guy a few years older than you, was annoying logan with questions he could’ve answered himself. he tagged along with logan to your weekend study session at a small cafe not far from the college. the tall man was mostly agreeable, except for his apparent obsession with straight black coffee. he had had two cups of it already.

“so, y/n. what do you study? wait don’t tell me. nursing, because you seem to be healing my broken heart. psychology, because you’re making me crazy? or is it music, because your voice is like a song?” he leaned forward from across the table, disregarding the punch in the shoulder from logan. you only glared and returned to your expensive textbooks, leaving your drink to turn cold in its abandonment.

“don’t try anything, ricky. she’s basically taken.” she warned with a smirk. you lifted your gaze and rolled your eyes,

“you’re nonsensical. you’ve had too much coffee,” you stop filling out a questionnaire, “he’s not even that… he’s… ugh, i don’t know.” you place your pen down and stretch in the stiff wooden chair.

ricky laughs, clapping his hands together, “okay so you totally have a crush on a guy.”

“i do not.”

“i guess i’ll back off with my advances, unlessss, you truly don’t have a crush on your lover boy?”

“i do not- but still please back off, you’re gross.”

logan and ricky shared a glance and went back to their work silently. like they knew something you didn’t. your brain had turned stuffy, you need to get some air, you needed to get away from the truth.

garcia and morgan appeared so suddenly spencer thought turbulence had pushed them into their seats in front of him. his gaze snapped from the airplane wing to their two giddy faces and immediately knew what this conversation was going to be about. it only made him a little bit uncomfortable, these types of conversations. girls, flirting, being happy around someone he doesn’t work with, it was all unfamiliar. it seemed he chose the best people to talk about it to though; garcia had given him a little too much information about his crush from her unwanted snooping, and in the process morgan was also given all of this information.

“yes, okay, i told derek all about your girl but i couldn’t help it! he’s very persuasive!” garcia pouted. spencer thinned his lips and nodded, expecting a surge of conversation but he was only met with silence. morgan and garcia shared a glance.

“look, spencer. we’re only doing this to distract ourselves from the case we just closed, and to help you. if you don’t want help, if you think this… thing, will die out, then tell us. but, if you do want some adviceee…” morgan spoke smoothly, quiet enough to avoid attention from anyone else.

when spencer stayed silent, thinking about how he could never use you as a distraction, morgan whispered, “if nothings happening, you gotta light the match.”

you were standing on an uneven step ladder when the doorbell rang with 10 minutes to closing. you rolled your eyes, thinking you’d have to stay even later because of this customer. but your demise quickly turned to calmness, a little bit of panic, when spencer appeared in the entry way.

you nearly fell off the ladder, dropping the pile of juice boxes in your hands onto the floor. you cursed under your breath, watching from above as spencer picked them up for you.

“thank you.”

there was no need for formalities anymore, it was like you had known each other forever. spencer was silent again, it was becoming his thing.

you clear your throat, “i changed my medication.”

he glanced at you, brown eyes observing your tired expression. he came here unconsciously. he had already had some take out, he didn’t need any coffee, and his fruit bowl was stocked to the brim. spencer walked to this convenience store, the result of the action being evident through the pain in his feet.

the phone in your back pocket caught spencer’s attention, before he promptly looked elsewhere to avoid looking like a creep.

“good, im glad.”

are we really back to this? was one awkward conversation all we needed to go back to strangers?

you stepped down, “no more bruises.”

spencer placed his fingers delicately on his healed cheek, holding back a smile that you actually remembered that.

he asked, “who’s texting you so much?” without much thought. he didn’t think about how it sounded, like he was protective or worried, or what it implied. he didn’t even have your number, why should he be so upset?

“oh it’s just logan and ricky.” you replied simply, folding up the ladder and glancing at the clock placed above the register desk, “are you getting anything?”

because it didn’t seem weird if he came here for you instead of his groceries.

“like your brother, ricky?”

there was a small match burning in his stomach at the sound of those names. he felt like taking your phone and snooping until he reached the end, until his fingers hurt. spencer felt like asking intrusive questions, before he bit his lips to stop himself.

you made notice of his hands fiddling in his pant pockets, rolling your eyes. that made his tongue slip.

“how many guys do you know?”

you looked at him with surprise, walking over to the register, “you think i’m a whore?”

spencer’s heart skipped a beat, “no not at all, i just- i didn’t word that right.”

you shook your head and laughed quietly, starting to count the change sat on your swivel chair. something was off. the street was empty. “did you walk here, spencer?”

spencer’s breath hitched. oh god, were the only words circling in his brain. when you used his name, it was different. this was weird, he needed to get out of there.

you looked so effortless. he looked so anxious.

“yeah. i did.”

you nod, “okay, you can help me lock up then.” you pass him a set of keys for the window covers, and add, “you can walk me home, to make up for the other day.”

spencer nods with a small smile and begins locking up.

you lead the way out of the store and around the corner to a set of traffic lights. the streets are silent and misty, but neither of you felt the need to jay walk in an attempt to speed up this process of awkward walking.

spencer watches you from his advantage point. at how you bite the inside on your lips, how you look at the concrete pathway.

“what’s wrong?” you don’t react, instead push the pedestrian button and sigh.

“it’s monday, spencer. you were going to ‘retry’, ‘be better’? i’m not 100% sure what you meant by that, but you said that right after you told me you were going to ask me out so.”

spencer gulps and nods, hands going back to their safe space in his pockets. “yeah, i said that. but i’m going to have to delay that again. this isn’t really,” he motioned towards the weeds, litter, and flickering street lights with his eyes, and you nod with a smirk.

“romantic?”

“romantic.”

you smile at each other, and for a second he’s utterly entranced before a wave of wind and tires pass him. before a soft hand is hard on his upper arm. his eyes trailed the car, heart beating nearly as hard as it does when he looks at you.

“jesus, are you okay?” you asked worried, and when he nods with a simple stare accompanying it, you look away.

light a match.

you hand leaves him quicker than it got there.

in front of your apartment building, you notice logan’s window alight behind white curtains, and turn to face spencer.

“thank you for walking me home. i would invite you in but it’s 1:20am and i don’t really… know you.”

spencer furrows his eyebrows slightly, looking at you expectantly. your faces turns cold, slightly sorrowful.

“spencer, i don’t know you. i know things about you but i don’t actually know you.” you yawn, wiping a hand over your eyes, “maybe i’m just tired and overworked and…” logan’s voice echoes through your head as you look over the tall, tired and handsome man in front of you, “if you’re not going to ask me out first i’m going to ask you out. so, make a decision.”

it felt wrong being so stubborn and solid with him, but with school and family stress you truly didn’t need any unknown feelings to topple on as well.

spencer was taken aback. he didn’t know one couple where the girl asked out the guy, he didn’t know someone could like him that badly. he didn’t know what to say.

“goodnight, spencer. i’ll see you.”

you turned and pushed on the pull door, before pulling on it. heart thumping in your ears, you slowly held a hand over your mouth, impressed with yourself.

but you lied, you weren’t going to ask him out. you have no idea how to ask someone out.

the convenience store wasn’t so lonely tonight.

logan was arguing with ricky over his choice in deodorant almost louder than the terrible radio music playing throughout the store.

the beating of rain was creating a calming background to this chaos, as well as keeping customers away. all but one, of course.

spencer had an excuse, he was supposed to bring food for the team tomorrow, and this was the closest store. totally. but as he stood under the cover of the stores overhead steel, he felt another match being burnt in the bottom of his stomach.

a tall and toned man with bright blonde hair was leaning over your register and talking to you, making you smile and laugh. your arms were crossed, you were leaned away and you avoided eye contact, but spencer didn’t see any of these signs as the waves of jealousy drowned him.

spencer looked out onto the street. he had no right to feel that way, this was his own fault. he felt even weirder and out of place than he usually felt.

the doorbell rang and your fake smile turned real. logan watched from the toilet spray section and smirked when she recognised the purple-sweater adorned man. ricky stopped his flirting and turned to meet spencer’s eyes, they sized each other up. the blonde man smiled and looked back at your much happier face, “so this is lover boy?”

you smacked his arm hard, receiving a squeal in return. “what? no. ricky this is spencer, spencer this is ricky.”

spencer gulped and ignored the stranger and you. he went for the fruits section. ricky glanced at your confused face, “i might be a threat.”

“in your dreams.” you rolled your eyes and pushed his elbow off your desk. logan approached the counter with a basket full and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. you noticed ricky’s change in expression when looking at her and held back a smile.

“you didn’t get anything for me?” he asked, voice teasing. logan took out a block of mint chocolate and threw it at him, which he caught perfectly with a smirk on his face.

“what’s wrong with lover boy?”

you glare at her, deciding avoiding that nickname was out of the picture. your shoulders slump as you begin scanning her items while making sure spencer wasn’t in earshot. “i mentioned you two, and then he went weird.”

“i mean, if i liked a girl and she told me about two guys- sorry, two people with guy names- i’d be pretty jealous,” ricky inputted.

“is that all? some jealousy got to his head?” logan pressed.

you seriously doubted he would be jealous over that, he seemed smarter than that. he was smarter than that.

logan paid and left, literally dragging ricky behind her, as he waved and winked at you through the windows.

the store was eerily quiet, the only noise coming from the thunderstorm brewing outside. it felt uncanny and uncomfortable. you needed someone’s cologne to wade through or something.

turning while shaking your head, you grabbed out some posters taller than you and turned to have the life scared out of you.

“jesus! i thought i told you to walk louder.”

his groceries were perfectly in line to be scanned, a small smile appearing before promptly vanishing. spencer avoided your eyes, a beating all he could hear.

“he’s your…”

you sighed, disappointed spencer even thought that dumb blonde was someone to you, “acquaintance.” you finished his sentence. “i’ve known him for two days and he a flirtatious dick. everyone named ricky is a dick.”

he pulls out his slim wallet to hand you a $20 bill, fingers skimming each other. one glance.

spencer nods and nearly leaves before you stop him, “can you help me?”

spencer is on the top of the ladder outside, barely staying dry underneath the steel overhead cover with the top corners of a food poster in his hands. you tip toe to give him a piece of double sided tape. the laminated photos wave in the wind, spencer sticks his tongue out in concentration and you smile at the innocent act. leaning against the wall, quickly glancing inside to make sure nobody wanted to check out, you begin talking.

“thank you for doing this, i totally would’ve fallen and died if it weren’t for you. what can i do to repay you?”

spencer thought for a moment, looking down at you, “nothing. you don’t have to do anything. just keep talking.”

so you did, because you didn’t know if you’d see him again after tonight.

PART 5

taglist: @jeffswh0re @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @trashmonstersara @wannabewolf @evysian @navs-bhat @mywellspringoflife @daphnesutton @smalls155 @amortencjja @anuncalledbridge @belsreid @redmurderbaby @tatilolz @criminalmindsandhouse @forensicuntology @nomajdetective @ilikw @screechingphantommaker @c-losur3 @v1ckycheesue @ackermans-angel @scarlettssub @fictionlurker @lovelyygirl8 @momooooca @random-kimmy @leabunny @cultish-corner @doigettokeepyou @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @hinataboke @wenttohogwarts @yaboohah @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @drewsandsebastianswife @hoeshissworld @flow33didontsmoke @bookworm124 @violetvsworld

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #cm #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid x yn

533 notes · View notes

vampiretendencies · 1 year

Text

request; jj blurb idea! wearing his clothes for the first time/him seeing you in his clothes for the first time. maybe showering at the chateau but you didn’t bring anything so he gives you a tshirt! hehe literally kicking my feet under the table rn

pairing; jj x fem!reader

warnings; fluff, maybe suggestive

authors note; i was doing the same when you sent this anon in love with this idea ! (req a blurb from below w what’s left on the prompt list, or send in blurb, imagines, & fic ideas) a few more hours until season 3!

other ways to say i love you prompt list

The opportunity to wear JJ’s clothes tainted your thoughts undoubtedly.

Not only because it belonged to him but because everything about JJ’s wardrobe, is so JJ.

No problem with repping any and everything that belonged to your infamous boyfriend. Wether it be wearing his pair of boxers as shorts, a wife beater to slumber in, or a random tee shirt to go out in broad day light.

You just longed for his material to be around your figure.

Congenial and adequate, soft yet comfortable— all elements of his clothes that are alike with JJ.

They are his clothes, after all.

“JJ let go of me!”

Stood smack in the the middle of JJ’s room at the chateau. His window partially open, wind bristling from the night air, making its way through. Whilst the hard wood floors beneath the two of you tracked the imprints of your feet. Bed rolled around in, from you forcing JJ off of you then— merely to let you get up and off of the bed to shower, that you did. Since you came out though, wearing little clothing, (given that there wasn't much of your own items lying around at the Chateau) he hasn't let you be.

He encapsulates you with his sinewy arms, body swallowing you whole. Whilst you forcefully push your hands against his broad, shirtless chest— the skin mellow and thick. Indentations of your miniature hands marking his skin, like your were a rag doll; screaming for dear life.

All JJ could muster was a low, raspy chuckle.

“Say you won’t leave.”

JJ wanted to make love to you all day long.

Not sex.

But emotionally.

To emotionally make love, to have and hold. A day full of luster, every millisecond spent around or with you. To confide in and maybe even shrink you and put you in his pocket.

A keepsake.

“You know I can’t, I don’t have another change of clothes.”

Behind every ‘can’t’ JJ miraculously finds a way, opportunity at hand to see you clad in something of his.

“Lets find you something of mine?”

JJ flicks his tongue, peering down at you due to the fact that he knows he’s won and you aren’t moving a muscle. His hands maneuver themselves to the lower part of your ass, hands habitually grasp the masses with a squeeze of his hands.

“Are you gonna’ give me something to wear then or what?”

You hid your secret giddiness inside, not wanting to be the one to initiate this sentiment— things seemingly working themselves out anyway.

“Actually, baby … just fuckin’ walk around naked … s’even better.”

He acknowledges the glint in your eye, possibly even a twitch that says, ‘get me some damn clothes before I wring your neck.’

“Okay okay, whatcha’ thinkin’ a little Heywards t-shirt action … Bait Shop shirt … ?”

He let go of you distastefully, instantly salivating for the contact again. Walking over to the wooden drawers of his dresser, pulling out multiple options— signaling you to come over and pick.

“Surprise me.”

And you turn around, facing the emptiness of his room, that wasn’t his room, but nonetheless. Rummaging was heard as he hummed and mumbled minuscule things to himself.

“Turn around, pretty girl.”

An off-black brownish t-shirt is thrown into your hands. A decor in the upper left side that read ‘Sex Wax Est 2005’, font circular and embellished with stars on either end.

“Your turn-“

He was already turning around, the gentlemen that he prided on being. You grinned at the cotton beneath your digits, bringing it up to your nose— though it had been washed, his powerful musk still retained it. The silky sensation of yeasty beer and a freshly rolled blunt encompassed your senses.

“Need more time?”

“Just a second, J.”

If only he knew your fixation was obsessive beforehand.

“I’ll just be here … y’know ... missin' my girl."

Feet away, physical touch being his love language fully had a choke hold on him per usual.

After you were done with your inspection you pulled the thin material of your cropped cami past your shoulders, bra clasped tight to your back. Leaving you to remove those lacey pocketed shorts that adorned your body; his shirt lazily pulled past your head, drowning you in its bigger size, falling just to your mid thigh.

The sole way to sleep with JJ disclosed.

You felt more his than you ever had in the past; claiming his array of bib and tucker with exuberance.

His baby suffocating in him.

You cleared your throat gesturing for him to turn around, his mouth gaping open as he's awe struck; open long enough that you were impressed something didn't fly in it.

"Shit you look better than me!"

Ogle eyes whilst his mouth formed a tight-lipped smile, stomach churning and insides wavering at the woman he chose to take part in his life with him.

It may be a shirt to most, but with his person inside of it made it all the more nostalgic, heart growing tender.

"C'mere gotta get a better look at you."

Following suit you step forward to him, lips instantly connecting with your jaw with pure infatuation.

"S'perfect baby."

"Yeah? Think I can pass as the new JJ Maybank?" In the same position the two of you were in minutes ago, except grins are wider and souls aching all the more for eachother; and you mocked him.

"Pass me a beer and a J."

4K notes · View notes

fluentmoviequoter · 24 days

Text

My Wife

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!secret wife!reader

Summary: While you're out running errands, a man takes a special interest in you. When he grabs you and thanks a police officer for finding you, his wife, he doesn't expect it to be your husband.

Warnings: angst?, stalking, non-consensual touching (not sexual), protective and angry Tim Bradford, fluff

Word Count: 2.2k+ words

Picture from Pinterest (the req said 😑 but this is 😐)

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

The small band on your left ring finger is the only evidence that you are married. Your husband doesn’t talk about you, yet it is clear that he loves you. When you wake up and find yourself alone in bed, you aren’t surprised. There’s a jewelry box on your nightstand with only one piece of jewelry in it, and you smile when you see there is a piece of paper lying across it.

Meet me at noon.

Tim Bradford is a man of few words, you know that well, but the idea of seeing him during a workday excites you. His secrecy regarding you and your relationship is understandable, but that doesn’t make it easier or help you miss him less. With the prospect of lunch with your husband to look forward to, you happily get out of your warm bed and begin getting ready for the day. You have several errands to run today, but you hope the morning goes quickly. Tim’s note is just as short as most of his speech, but you know exactly where you’re supposed to meet him.

While Tim leaves the station to go on patrol, you leave your house to go to your first stop. The store is nearly empty this early on a weekday, but you enjoy being able to browse without a rush. After finding everything you need, plus a few more items, you head toward the front of the store to pay for the items. In all the time you’ve spent moving through the store, you haven’t noticed one other customer.

From the moment you walked in, a man lurking in the center aisle took a special interest in you. He stayed back far enough that you wouldn’t get suspicious. When you pass him on your way to the checkout area, he decides that following you around the store isn’t enough, he wants to know where you go next and if the ring on your finger is worth anything. Monetary value or sentimental value, he doesn’t care, he just can’t let you out of his sight.

While loading your purchases into your car, you feel the unmistakable sensation of eyes on you. The area is growing busier, however, so you brush it off as someone trying to decide if they recognize you or are zoned out. Tim wouldn’t be happy about the lack of situational awareness, but he also knows what it is like to have people stare shamelessly at him.

The man drives his unassuming sedan two cars behind you and follows you to your next stop. It’s clear that you are shopping for a man, now, and the creep behind you is getting jealous. Your thoughts are completely consumed by Tim and what you are getting for him, so you don’t take notice of any of the men in the store. When you unlock your phone to check your list, you sigh at the time. 10:58 a.m. Noon is taking forever, and you are ready to see Tim.

With time for another stop or two, you leave, once again oblivious to the man following you. The pet store isn’t on your list, but when you see a sign for a buy one, get one sale on dog treats and toys, you make a sudden decision to get Kojo a few things as well. His dad can’t have all the attention, after all. In his car behind you, the man curses at your sudden turn and finds another entrance into the parking lot. Rather than following you in and risking losing you, he parks down the row from your car and waits for you to exit. You have two overflowing bags in your hands, and he considers for a moment jumping out and offering to help, but you stop by your car and set a bag down to open the door. It’s clear that you can take care of yourself, but you seem prone to having lapses in attention and failing to take in your surroundings, so the man decides to wait for a better opportunity to make something of you and the ring on your finger.

You are giddy with anticipation of presenting Kojo with all of his gifts. Now that you have more for him than you’ve purchased for you or Tim, you get back to your planned errands. There’s one store close to the place where you’re supposed to meet Tim, and with half an hour to spare, you decide to browse there. At ten ‘til noon, you park beside the small circle of food trucks. Living in Los Angeles has taught you never to leave anything visible in your car and the trunk liner Tim installed to hide your belongings is properly concealing your innumerable bags. Confident that everything is secure, you lock your car and walk toward Tim’s favorite truck. You’re early, so you take a seat and wait for him.

The man from the first store orders something from a food truck to blend in and sits almost directly behind you. He can tell that you are waiting for someone, but when he sees a cop approaching, he has a brilliant and devious idea. You stand as the police officer – your police officer - enters the dining area, and the man stands immediately after.

“Hey,” Tim greets with a smile. His smile drops as he watches a man move behind you, and his face remains impassive as he begins speaking.

“Officer,” the man behind you says. He releases an overly dramatic sigh as his hand wraps around your upper arm. His thumb digs into your skin, and your eyes widen slightly as you watch Tim. “Thank you for finding my wife, Officer… Bradford. She wanders off sometimes. What have I told you about paying attention, pretty girl?”

Tim’s face hasn’t changed since the man stood, and anger flares in his eyes. You watch as his jaw clenches, anticipating what he is going to do.

“Get your hand off my wife,” Tim demands lowly.

The hand around your arm tightens harshly, and he jerks you backward in his anger. He’s also confused because all of his hard work is slipping away; he doesn’t believe that a cop’s wife would be as careless as you and miss someone following her. So, he pulls you back as he moves and prepares to say more.

Tim expected a similar reaction, and the moment you step to the side to catch yourself, he surges forward and shoves the man off of you. When the creep hits the concrete, Tim rolls him onto his stomach and plants his knee directly between his kidneys. As the man groans in pain, Tim secures his handcuffs on his wrists and quickly recites his Miranda rights before calling for backup. Tim stands and you move to press a hand against his back. It’s a reminder that you are there, and that you’re safe because of him.

“Tim,” you begin quietly. “Do you want me to leave before everyone gets here? Or give them my maiden name?”

Tim shakes his head, but his eyes remain on the cuffed man writing in pain below him. “No. You’re my wife,” he answers.

You smile, and when Tim turns to check on you, some of the tension drains away. He moves a hand to your shoulder, and you know what he’s saying without speaking. You nod, a confirmation that you love him too.

“Bradford,” Nolan calls as he exits the shop. “What can we do?”

“Someone get him to booking, and we need statements,” Tim answers, effortlessly shifting into cop mode rather than husband mode. “Charge him with assault.”

“And stalking,” you add. “He’s been following me all morning.”

“You knew?” Tim and the man ask together.

“Suspected it after the second store, and I have a picture of him watching me when I left the pet store,” you explain.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Tim asks.

“I was going to, but he beat me to it.”

Nolan asks you to step to the side with him and give him your statement. Tim nods to remind you that you can tell the truth. The secrecy is to keep you safe from people who would hurt you, not other cops.

“Can I get your name first? And any ID you have?” Nolan begins kindly.

You say your name and pass your driver’s license to him.

“Bradford?” Nolan asks. His shock is evident, and you press your tongue to your cheek, so you don’t laugh.

“Yes, sir. Where should I start my statement?”

“Uh, at- at the beginning. Just run me through your day.”

Nolan clearly has trouble listening, but he powers through the distraction and takes thorough notes. When Tim moves to your side and says he’ll bring you by to sign it later, Nolan wants to ask countless questions.

“So, that guy said he was your husband to your husband?” Nolan clarifies.

“Yep,” you answer.

Nolan turns to Tim and lowers his voice to ask, “You have a wife?”

“And I’m sure you will tell everyone,” Tim replies. “Just go file the report and we’ll be by in a bit.”

Nolan nods and rushes back to the shop. Tim waits until the other officers pull away to wrap his arms around you. Safe against Tim’s chest, you move your arms to circle his waist and sigh against him.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he replies without hesitation. “Are you okay? How’s your arm?”

“I’m okay,” you promise.

“What’d you get at the pet store?” he asks with a smile.

“Too much.”

“Kojo will be a happy boy.”

“What now?”

Tim leads you to your car and tells you to drive home. He follows you in his shop to take you back to the station. The moment you walk in with him, someone throws a handful of rice.

“Great,” Tim grumbles. “I didn’t think he’d start blabbing this soon.”

“I kinda like this,” you say. “About time I get to show you off.”

Tim rolls his eyes but lays a gentle hand on your lower back to lead you through the station. He introduces you to several people and endures jokes and teasing from each of them. If he wasn’t so grateful that you’re safe and uninjured, he’d put an end to the comments from his fellow officers, but he’s too distracted by you at his side to care much.

“So, you’re the secret wife that got assaulted while standing with your cop husband,” Wade muses.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you ask.

He shrugs and pulls you into a quick hug. Lucy and Nolan gasp from beside him.

“You knew?” they ask loudly.

“Course I did. I was at the wedding.”

“I was too,” Angela adds from her desk. “It’s nothing personal, you know. Tim just doesn’t like you as much.”

Tim shakes his head before asking everyone to be quiet. He stays by your side until you finish signing your statement.

“I’m not end of watch yet,” he says as he returns to the shop. “But I can try to leave early.”

“It’s fine- I’m fine, Tim,” you promise. “Just be careful and come home to me when you can, okay?”

Tim promises to do just that. When he does finally get home, though, you can see that he is still tense. He pulls you into a warm hug, but his shoulders are rigid, and his grip is that of a man who is guilty of something that isn’t his fault. You slide your hands up to his shoulders and rub gently.

“Hey, do you want a fashion show?” you murmur. “I bought some clothes today.”

Tim pulls back and smiles. He kisses you deeply to show you just how glad he is to be back in your arms. Your safety is one of the most important things to Tim, and you know it.

“Wait,” Tim says against your lips.

You are breathing heavily when you pull back and look into his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Tim’s fingers move gently up your arm and his grip is the complete opposite of what you felt earlier. He looks at you for permission, and when you nod, he pushes your shirt out of the way to look at your upper arm. There’s a red mark surrounding it, and Tim’s brows crease when he sees it.

“I’m fine,” you promise quietly. “Thanks to you. I don’t want to imagine what would’ve happened if he’d done something sooner, but I know I’ll never have to with you around.”

Tim’s hand slides away from your arm, opting to hold your waist instead.

“You’re going to lock me in the house, now, aren’t you? Secret wife will take on a whole new meaning.”

Tim chuckles, and your eyes brighten at the sound. He kisses you again, not as slow or long, but just as impactful. You grip his shirt before leaning against him again.

“Did you give Kojo his new toys yet?” Tim asks.

“No. I was waiting for you.”

Tim rubs his hand along your back before whispering, “Was the fashion show a serious offer?”

You tilt your head back and laugh. “As if you’d sit through a fashion show, Tim Bradford.”

He leans in like he’s going to kiss you again, but instead says, “Try me.”

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x fem!reader #hanna writes✯#tim bradford fic #tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie abc #requests #fem!reader

392 notes · View notes

justmediocrewriting · 4 months

Text

“You’re not that dumb, are you?” {v.s}

Summary: Sanji seriously can’t figure what it is he had done to offend you or make you dislike him, but he’s sure he had to of done something; you avoid him like the plague, and if Sanji doesn’t figure out why soon, he’s going to spontaneously combust right there in the galley.

Or: the one in which Sanji is completely oblivious to the crush you have on him, until he isn’t.

Genre: fluff

Requested: ❌

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Sanji x fem!reader

Warnings: reader is afab, she/her pronouns, use of (y/n)

A/n: so this cute little idea was tickling in the back of my head because i have this headcanon that even though Sanji is the worlds biggest flirt and a major lover of women, he genuinely can not tell when a woman actually has a crush on him, and thus this was born lol. I hope you all enjoy! And don’t forget to leave a like if you did, and don’t be shy to send in a req if you like the way I write! ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been occurring for weeks, and if he were being honest, Sanji truly felt as if he were going absolutely crazy.

Sanji was not a perfect human being; he knew this, and he was all too aware of his own flaws — but he didn’t believe he was a bad person. On the contrary, he felt he was more likable than he was dislikable, and the crew for the most part seemed to share his same opinion.

Except for you.

Sanji didn’t know what it was about him that bothered you, but there had to be something there, considering the fact that you went out of your way to ensure you would never end up in a position in which you were to be alone with him, and whenever he was around, you avoided his eyes, and his attempts at conversation were generally ignored — it was quite irksome, and the smug little smirks Zoro sent his way any time it happened definitely didn’t help.

At first, Sanji thought perhaps it wasn’t him, but you. Upon first meeting he noticed the rather shy disposition you possessed, so in the beginning, Sanji just chalked your avoidance of him up to nervousness and the need to settle in. But as time went on, Sanji observed you — Sanji was always observing, mentally clocking the conditions and stability of his crewmates — and his gut twisted when he noticed you growing warmer to every other crewmate except him; you even seemed to be comfortable with Zoro, now.

Sanji tried his best to not let this fact affect him, and he instead tried to compartmentalize and break down the reasons as to why before automatically jumping to any unpleasant conclusions; perhaps you had warmed up to the others faster simply due to exposure. When Sanji had landed on that particular conclusion, he decided the best course of action to take would be to ease into a closer bond with you.

His attempt at that had quickly gone awry; the ship had docked at a small island, one fairly well known for its bountiful fruit and vegetable harvests, and Sanji was set on making a list of the crew’s current food stores, but when he’d entered the galley and noticed you — just you, without Usopp or Nami flanking you as he’d grown accustomed to seeing — his initial task had been swept away to be replaced by another.

You hadn’t yet noticed his presence, as your nose was pointed down and buried in a rather thick looking book, one hand wrapped delicately around a mug resting on the hanging table, and Sanji couldn’t refrain from taking the chance to really look at you.

Your hair was pulled up into a messy bun atop your head, a few stray locks falling from the hold of your hair tie and framing the delicate features of your face, and Sanji’s heart stuttered in his chest at the way your soft lips mouthed the words of the book as you read. Sanji knew you were attractive, had thought so since the first time he’d laid eyes on you, but with your near constant avoidance of him, it was difficult for him to be able to take any time to map your features; and Sanji was feeling eternally grateful that he was given the opportunity, and part of him didn’t want to announce his presence, because he had the sinking feeling that once you noticed him, you’d be flying out of the galley at mach ten.

But that was also another problem that Sanji was dead set on rectifying, so he pushed away any unpleasant feelings and decided to announce his presence in a way that wasn’t overly shocking — but he had underestimated your level of skittishness, and the moment in which he decided to clear his throat was the exact same moment in which you’d decided to take a sip from your mug, with which held steaming liquid within.

The instant the sound left his throat you jumped, your head snapped up and you lost your grip on the mug — leading it to falling into your lap, the contents spilling over your front and your thighs. Sanji’s heart froze inside his chest as a loud hiss escaped your lips and you slammed your knee into the bottom of the table in a frenzied scramble. Your beautiful face contorted into an expression of pain, and before Sanji could even think twice about it his body was moving, propelling him to your side in an instant.

“I’m so sorry, love, are you okay?” Sanji pushed out, hand flashing forward to grab your arm and pull it gently out of the way so he could examine the damage. Sanji winced as he noticed your legs were bare, the skin at the top an ugly shade of irritated red, and worry lanced through his gut. Tugging on your arm gently, Sanji coaxed you out of your seat.

“Come on, let’s get to the sink. We need to cool the skin before it scalds.” Sanji would have been surprised when you quietly let him lead you from the table to the counter if it weren’t for the sheer panic he was feeling. Twisting the cold tap hurriedly Sanji ripped the towel from the cabinet handle just below the sink and shoved it beneath the stream, thoroughly wetting it then ringing it out slightly before moving to place it against the burns —

Sanji nearly winced at the resounding slap that split through the galley when you smacked his hand away. Without much to offer in explanation you ripped the wet towel away from his hand and it suddenly dawned on him — he was about to place his hand in a spot that was highly inappropriate, even if the intentions were caring in nature. Sanji flushed and despite the situation, his eyes roved over your plush thighs in a way that was starkly opposite than checking damage. Feeling utterly disappointed in himself, Sanji parted his lips to apologize, but you beat him to it.

“Ah, I’m sorry.” You said softy, avoiding his eyes. “T-thanks, Sanji, but I’ve got it from here.”

Sanji barely had the time to register your words (he was still frozen from the absolute beauty that was your voice speaking directly to him, saying his name) before you were scurrying away, water dripping a small path from the sink to the door out of the galley.

Days had passed since the incident in the galley, and you hadn’t uttered a word to Sanji since — you didn’t even really look in his direction, and when he’d come to return your book to you and ask how you were doing, you only gave him one seldom nod and then snatched your book away before slamming the door in his face.

Only this time, Sanji couldn’t really blame you.

Of course, there was no way you could have known of the brief indecency he’d given you, but the fact that he’d startled you enough to cause you to burn yourself was enough of a reason to be angry at him, in his opinion — but his understanding of the situation didn’t make it any less irritating.

Only now, he was irritated for a different reason.

Sanji felt as though hearing his name on your lips was like taking a hit of a strong drug; ever since he had experienced it, he just wanted more. Sanji wanted to hear you speak to him, not just around him; he wanted you to converse with him, to tell him all the things that you’d already told everyone else about yourself, and, selfishly, he wanted you to tell him more — to tell him things that you’d never revealed to anyone, not even Usopp or Nami.

Sanji wanted to look into your eyes and commit them to memory, so that he could see the vibrancy of them even when he closed his own. He wanted to watch the way your lips formed words, and he wanted to hear that delicate laugh bubble from your throat because of him — and that was the crutch of it all.

Sanji wanted all of this for himself.

He wanted all of it because of himself.

And Sanji knew it was selfish, knew it was immature, because he also knew why he wanted all of this; it was because he had been deprived of it for so long.

And wasn’t that such a childish way to look at it?

Sanji couldn’t help but compare himself to a toddler being jealous of another’s toy — any time he watched you swapping words and laughs with someone else, even Nami, Sanji would feel envy bubbling beneath his skin, scratching his brain to try and figure out why you’d felt him undeserving of your time and attention. It sounded truly vain, if he was being honest.

But Sanji just couldn’t help it.

Something about you was drawing him in, making him itch for more, for anything, even the smallest morsel of attention or acknowledgement.

Sanji just needed to talk to you, or something. Get to the bottom of whatever it was — maybe if you could both put it to bed, these annoying desires would fade away.

“That fish personally insult you, or something?”

Sanji’s head snapped up at the sound of Nami’s voice, lips opening but no words slipping past them.

Nami rolled her eyes and gestured to the still intact fish resting on the cutting board. “You’ve just been glaring at it.”

Sanji’s eyes widened and his cheeks felt warm. He hadn’t even realized he had been so distracted that he hadn’t begun his lunch preparations. Recovering, Sanji sent Nami a small smile and quickly grasped the cutting knife to start in on the beheading and skinning. From his periphery he noticed Nami giving him a strange stare, and he was more than prepared for it when she asked him if he was okay.

“I’m fine, love, don’t worry about me.”

Nami scoffed as if she didn’t believe him but to his relief she didn’t pester; instead she thunked her ink pen once on the table before repositioning it to draw on her chart once more — Sanji wasn’t sure how he could explain what was distracting him without it coming off as too accusatory or abrasive.

But hell if he wouldn’t try.

“Say, you’re pretty close with (Y/N).” Sanji started, not looking up from his handiwork. He heard more than saw Nami lean back against the couch, and he could only picture that she had her arms crossed over her ribs.

“I am, I suppose. Why?”

Sanji bit his lip in thought, wondering if he should just drop the whole conversation before he could take it to the point of no return, but he needed to know; he needed to understand what it was he’d done or said to make you hate him. And if you’d told anyone why, he imagined it would be Nami.

“It’s just… does she hate me, or somethin’?”

Now Sanji couldn’t refrain from looking at Nami, bashfulness be damned. He needed to see Nami’s eyes, so that he could know if whatever her response was would be genuine. What he didn’t expect, though, was for Nami’s eyes to widen comically, nor did he expect her to double over with laughter. It took a few seconds for her to catch her breath, and when she did, she gave him the most vibrant, teasing smile he’d ever seen grace her face. Sanji would be stunned by the beauty of it if he wasn’t so confused by her reaction.

“You’re not that dumb, are you?”

Sanji thought himself akin to a fish when all he could do was flap his lips at her wordlessly, brows furrowing to the point he worried they might stick. Sanji didn’t know what to say to that; was Nami being rhetorical or serious?

“Look, Sanji, she doesn’t hate you.” Nami finally recessed, but the mirthful amusement was still evident in her tone. Sanji wet his bottom lip, relief warring with confusion in the pit of his mind.

“But she avoids me. She won’t even look at me.”

“She looks at you a lot. You just don’t see it.”

Sanji was once again rendered speechless — a part of him wondered if Nami was simply pulling his leg, or if she knew something he didn’t; something she clearly thought should be obvious, if the look on her face was anything to go by.

Nami heaved a great sigh and gathered up her chart and pens, along with her other various navigation gear, and tucked it into her rucksack before rising from the couch. Resting her hands against the counter she leaned forward, the tease in her eyes making Sanji do the same, not even noticing when the tip of his tie grazed the slimy flesh of the fish.

“For a ladies man, you sure don’t know much about them. You should remember that there’s more than one reason that a person may avoid another.” Nami whispered, and with barely a glance back she breezed swiftly from the galley, leaving Sanji more confused and fuddled than ever before.

For the rest of the evening, Sanji continued to toss and turn Nami’s words around in his head; but no matter how much he picked and pulled at them, dissected them and put them back together, he just couldn’t figure it out.

Surely Nami didn’t mean for her words to be as cryptic as they were. Nami wasn’t one to be cryptic; she was blunt and upfront, and unashamed or frightened to speak her mind — it was one of the many traits that Sanji admired in her.

Throughout your time with the crew, Sanji noticed that you were similar to Nami in that respect — you weren’t afraid to put in your own input on certain situations or decisions, and most of the time, your input was quite enlightening and helpful. You also weren’t scared to fight for your own beliefs, even if it meant engaging in a verbal altercation with one of your friends. Outspoken and vibrant with pretty much everyone on the crew, you were, and it was something Sanji found very attractive and annoying at the same time — because you weren’t nearly that strong around him, had never gotten in an altercation with him, choosing instead to avoid him.

Nami said you didn’t hate him — but why else would you avoid him, avoid eye contact, refuse to be alone with him? Why else would your face flush any time you met his eyes accidentally? Why else would you stare at him in secret instead of approaching him?

Sanji promptly dropped the whisk into the bowl of pancake batter, because oh —

Oh.

There’s more than one reason that a person may avoid another.

Oh. Shit.

The blushing, the avoiding, the staring in secret… it wasn’t because you hated him — it was because you liked him.

A smile broke on Sanji’s lips and he pulled the whisk out delicately with the tips of his fingers, a warm, fluttery feeling erupting in his chest.

Sanji would have to thank Nami later.

#opla #opla sanji #opla sanji x reader #Drabble #one shot #one piece #op #x reader #reader insert

378 notes · View notes

k-hotchoisan · 5 months

Note

Congrats on the 500!!!!! Sooo….. thoughts on number 12? 👀

12. Threesome with Yungi with woosan watching or Threesome with Seongjoong with Jongsang filming you?

Sorry it’s the size kink for me with Yungi 😃😃😃

Warnings: smut, pwp, threesome, being pinned in between yungi 🤤, voyeurism, unprotected sex

Tag list: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @minkysmilk (saw your req LOL)

K’s 500: this or that?

You let out a shaky breath as you watch Yunho’s cock pull out of you, and you’re creaming all over him again, mixed with pathetic whines that obviously came from no one else but you. Yunho looks sickeningly satisfied, watching you unravel like that in front of him. His cock pops out of you and you groan at the emptiness. Mingi has decorated your neck and shoulder blades with pretty marks.

You feel your cunt convulse once more, spitting more cream. Fuck, it’s not enough. You needed more. You shift and give your attention to the male behind you, squeezing his arm. Mingi plants more kisses on your temple.

“Use your words, princess”, Mingi reminds you as he strokes your hair back as you fully face him now.

“Need you to fill me”, you barely manage out, and the prospect of being filled up by another huge cock was starting to melt any ounce of rationale you had left.

Mingi chuckles as he turns your around again, and you’re facing Yunho. You’re watching him fuck his hand as Mingi sits on you on his cock, making you gasp when you’re filled up to the brim once again. Your eyes roll back, soaking in the feeling of your cunt being used once more, and Mingi has your arms held behind your back as he begins fucking you from below. Your breaths turn shaky once again, as your cunt tries to accommodate Mingi’s girth every time you sink down onto him.

“Adorable. So fucking adorable”, Yunho sighs, stroking your slackened jaw before eating up all your whimpers and moans with his lips. “I love it when she’s like that, so fucked out and dumb, just there to take whoever’s dick is available to her.” You pussy squeezes Mingi at that comment, and Mingi groans, giving you a slap on your ass.

“And I think we’ve got company”, Mingi comments, nodding to the door left ajar. The two males caught red handed stare at three of you, like deers in headlights.

“Come in, Wooyoung, San”, the elder male calls out. San curses as he pushes Wooyoung in.

“Fucking told you we should have just left”, San chides, despite himself, growing hard as a rock. He’s barely keeping his eyes off you—sucked into a trance whenever your ass bounces off Mingi’s hips.

“Mmm, it’s San and Woo”, you giggle, only to sob when Mingi’s cock hits your cervix once more.

“I can’t tell who’s the bigger pervert—them or you—getting off being caught fucking by your favourite boys”, Mingi teases as he gives your nipples another roll, and you bite your lip, your eyes never leaving the two males seated before you. It was so fucking humiliating to be seen like this—your cunt being pounded by Mingi while Wooyoung and San stare on, periodically licking their lips and swallowing hard, with their cocks forming a thick bulge against their sweats, and you have a sense of pride that swells up in you that you know that you’re the reason why they’re like this. It’s the way their attention is all on you, watching you pant and cry while Yunho fucks your mouth, fluids dripping from both sides of your holes.

“Fuck! You’re squeezing me again, princess. You’re really such a slut for getting all wet again just from being watched. You adore all of this attention, don’t you?”

Another palm lands on your ass, and you jolt forward, unintentionally taking in more of Yunho in front of you, who is also gradually losing his mind from the way your throat is constructing his dick. Muffled groans are the only thing you can manage out until Yunho suddenly pulls out of your mouth and his cocks slaps your cheek. He pumps his cock and by instinct, you stick your tongue out. You make the mistake to glance over at the two perverts and you see them palming their erections as their eyelids grow heavier.

Your head is forced to face up to Yunho as he fingers curl around your jaw to shift your gaze upwards and you look up at him through your lashes. “Attention here, princess”, he reminds you with a smile. “I’m gonna make you so pretty.” He barely holds back his grunts as his cock paints your face and lips with his cum. Yunho bites the inside of his cheek, watching the way you look so glazed out and pretty while taking his cum onto your face. He thinks you look so fucking stunning.

Mingi doesn’t give you any warning when his cock twitches in you before he tightens his grip on your hips as he pushes himself all the way in, causing you to fall front a little bit but Yunho catches you in time, and your cunt flutters on Mingi’s cock as ropes of cum decorate your walls. You’re crying. You’re crying because it feels so fucking heavenly, and Yunho is wiping your cum and tear stained cheeks, but he never lets you get up, making sure Mingi empties everything he has inside of you.

“That’s a good girl”, Yunho hums as he wipes the fluids off your face with a towel from the bed. You’re staring him with such a fucked out expression that you don’t even process what Mingi is saying behind you. Mingi groans as he pulls out of you, watching the way his cum pulls a thick string from your cunt before he pushes it all back into your pussy with his fingers, soaking in more whimpers from you.

San and Wooyoung are almost forgotten, their sweats are fucking soaked as they watch the scene unfold right before them. Mingi catches their gaze as he sits you onto his and Yunho’s lap, spreading your legs wide fucking open for both boys before them.

San tries his best to control his breathing and Wooyoung swallows hard, looking at the way your cunt releases small loads of your cream and Mingi’s cum out, accompanied by your pathetic whines.

“Do you think they should fuck you?” Yunho asks, drawing small circles around your clit before using his index and middle fingers to tug your abused hole open, your cunt clenching uselessly at the air.

You look up at the pent up boys, head woozy from pleasure, barely recovering from the round you had with Yunho and Mingi.

“Why the fuck not?” You reply with a pretty smile.

568 notes · View notes

revasserium · 17 days

Note

do you right series/multiple parts for zoro opla X reader. If you do could you write something angsty n maybe reader was a part the butlers crew before n stuff. A lot of angst but also fluff n cute zoro X reader moments. Thxxx

prompt list reqs are: temporarily closed

catch.

opla!zoro; 9,224 words; fem!reader, no "y/n", slowburn, disgruntled companions?? to lovers, fluff and banter, so much banter, nicknames ("kitten", "pretty boy"), semi canon-compliant, tiny bit post!opla, more plot than not

summary: zoro calls reader "kitten", reader calls him "pretty boy" back. story ensues.

a/n: ha. i have no excuses for this... it's not a series/multipart, but i do hope that the sheer length of it kinda makes up for that lol; tagging @dira333 and @bby-deerling

The first time he sees you, it is over daggers and bared teeth, a hiss working up your throat as you glare at him from the balcony of Kaya’s expansive estate.

“You’re gonna need a lot more than that, kitten.” Zoro’s smirk goes slanted as you leap off the thin railings to land noiselessly before him, your curved daggers striking against the edge of his swords with a metallic spray of sparks.

His smirk fades after that, replaced by a wild, jagged grin as he swings both swords around his body in a wide arc — but you’re backflipping up, too high in the air to be fully natural, your feet landing perfectly on the backs of his blades before you’re kicking off again, forcing the blades down and throwing him off balance.

“I highly doubt it,” you bite out, skimming by his cheek with a savage smile as he jerks to the side just in time to avoid having his face split open. But you whip back around and it’s all he can do to parry your blow.

The discordant clang of metal on metal rings out in the otherwise silent room as you both flicker around each other, him as steady as the tide, you as quick as the flutter of a sparrow’s wing.

“Where was that fake butler hiding you, kitten? You’re much better than those other two —” Zoro grunts as he narrows his eyes, digging in his heels as he parries another flurry of your quicksilver blows. Your lips curl in contempt as you swipe for his stomach and catch on the edge of his white-hilted blade.

“He wasn’t hiding me anywhere —”

The world blurs in a whirlwind of flashing metal — it ends with you hissing as you find you and Zoro on opposite ends of the cavernous room, amidst wood splinters and slivers of shredded upholstery. There’s a thin slash oozing blood down the side of his face and a long gash along your arm where his sword had nicked your bicep.

“Then why’re you with him?” Zoro asks, grimacing as he wipes blood from his cheek.

“Because, pretty boy,” you smirk at the way his eyes narrow, “the old tomcat owes me something. And I never forget a debt.”

Zoro’s eyebrow quirks, and for a single second, you can see the cogs turning behind his darkened eyes, “So… you’re only with him until he pays you.”

You grin, Cheshire wide, and a second later, you’re right in front of him, pressing up into his personal space with a finger trailing up the length of his neck. Zoro’s breath catches, and he’s acutely aware of just how open he’d been, how easily you might’ve decided to end his life had you replaced your finger with the tip of one of your curve-bellied daggers.

“That… and I happen to enjoy slicing things up, y’see…” your voice is syrup sweet and sharp as poison even as he jerks away from you, instinct thrusting his swords forward before he can stop himself. But you’re already dancing away with a soft, ringing laugh, shaking your head.

“Gonna have to be faster than that if you wanna catch me… pretty boy.”

You slink into the shadows, giggling even as Zoro grimaces and tries to chase after you, slashing at whispers and shapes in the dark. He makes it all the way down the hallway before Luffy’s voice catches his attention and he doubles back with a final look over his shoulder, an unsatisfied knot tied tight in his stomach.

The second time you meet, it’s over a barrel of dried sardines.

“We pick up another stray?” Zoro asks, frowning as you grin cheekily down at him from the bow of the Merry. He could imagine the way your ears might flick if you had them, the way your invisible tail might twitch from side to side, snide and all too satisfied.

“Yeah! Didn’t I tell you? She’s coming with us!” Luffy grins wide as he climbs up onto their new ship, giving you a hard pat on the back, “Welcome to the Straw Hat Crew!”

“Thanks, Cap!” you smile, slipping off the railings to help with the extra supplies.

Nami sighs as she joins Zoro on the docks, “Sad, desperate souls, like I said — but hey, at least she helped us escape.”

Zoro frowns, “She did?”

Nami rolls her eyes, “Who do you think undid all those locks on the metal shutters from the outside? Geez…”

Zoro grunts, catching another barrel of dried food as Nami tosses it up toward him.

After that, things… do not get better. You’re too quiet, too quick, and Zoro can never quite tell when you mean what you say or if you ever say what you mean. Your laughter sends shivers down his back, and he finds himself watching you, even when he doesn’t mean to.

By the time you’ve all reached the Baratie, it’s become second nature for him to keep his eyes trained on you, to take stock of where you are, to seek you out the first thing after he wakes and the last thing before he sleeps.

“Ah — apologies madam I didn’t see you there —” Sanji smarms as Nami’s eyebrows inch up her forehead. You bite back a grin as Zoro scoffs to your right.

“And… for you?” when Sanji finally turns his eyes onto you, you’re ready for him, leaning forward, your tongue slipping languorously across your bottom lip as you peer up at him from beneath your thick lashes.

“Got any Déesse? Ah, but you must have — an establishment as fine as this?”

Sanji takes a long breath; Zoro feels the air turn sour in his lungs.

“Of course we do — a woman of taste, hm? And… for the rest of you?” Sanji’s voice flatlines as he looks over the rest of the crew.

Zoro snorts, rolling his eyes, “A beer for me and… a few for my friends.”

Sanji shoots a curt nod his way before recounting the table’s orders, “A few beers, a milk —” he dips his head in Luffy’s direction, “a normal water in a normal glass,” a smile at Nami, “and… a bottle of Déesse — any preference on year, miss?” He twinkles in your direction.

“Oh… surprise me.”

Sanji sweeps into a theatrical bow, “Right away,” before gliding away from the table.

Everyone starts talking all at once —

“Why’re you ‘miss’ but I’m ‘madam?’”

“Great fighter, that guy — did you see him roundhouse that other guy in the face —”

“Wow… don’t tell me that worked on you?” Zoro scoffs as he turns to look at you.

You shrug, “Sometimes, it pays to meet people on their level, hm?” Then, your smile turns saccharine as you tilt your head, eyes flickering towards the triplet of swords caught in the small gap between the plush seats and the pillar to Zoro’s right.

“Right. Whatever.” His lip curls. Nami sighs, leaning her head back against the studded velvet seat backs.

“The two of you are gonna be the death of us…” she muses, laughing as you curl back into your seat with an exaggerated pout and Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth, feeling heat crest up into his cheeks.

And later, it’s you who tries the hardest to talk him out of his duel with Mihawk, a dull, feline glint to your eyes as you glare at him from across the wide kitchen counter —

“You couldn’t even beat me in single combat — what makes you think you’d be able to best Dracule Mihawk, huh?!”

Zoro snarls as he rounds on you, “It’s not like I was really trying.”

“Seemed like you were doing a lot more than trying to me!”

“You were the one who ran away.”

“Yeah, because I didn’t have a death wish!”

“So you admit that you would’ve lost to me.”

Your eyes narrow into slits as you hiss, “Yes, just like you’ll lose if you go through with this.”

A muscle feathers in Zoro’s jaw as he slowly peels his eyes away from you and turns back to the methodical work of polishing his swords.

Later that night, you find him sitting in the Merry’s kitchen with his eyes closed, arms crossed, his swords lined up just so on the suspended table in front of him.

“You can stop sulking. I know you’re there.” He opens a single eye to peer at you as you melt out of the shadows near the door, your own arms knitted tight across your chest.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“I’m meditating.” His eyes slip back closed.

You leap deftly onto the table and cross your legs, looking down at his row of swords.

“You’ll need more than a good meditation session to beat that old hawk.”

Zoro’s eyes snap open, his words taking on a hard, metallic edge, “What would you know about it?”

Your grin is crescent moon sharp as you tilt your head; you reach forward as if to tap a finger against the sheath of one of his swords. There’s a dull thump as Zoro makes to tug the sword away, but a second later, you’ve got his wrist pinned to the table’s marred surface. Your face is half an inch away from his and he can taste the heat of your breath on his lips.

“See? Not nearly fast enough,” you tut, still grinning as Zoro yanks his arm away.

“If you’re trying to change my mind, you’re doin’ a shit job.”

“No,” you sigh, jumping off the table, your feet eerily silent as always. You make it all the way to the door before turning to glance at Zoro over your shoulder. There’s an inscrutable look on his face as he watches you, and you allow him one last, little smile.

“I just… thought you should be well-rested for your own execution.”

The next morning dawns too bright, too early, the sky too blue and perfect. It’s a blood-hungry day, so your grandmother used to say, the kind of day that aches for disaster. You shiver as you walk silently behind Usopp and Luffy, trailing in Zoro’s shadow as he makes his solemn way to the docks to face Mihawk.

There’s a quick exchange of words before Mihawk’s eyes slide onto you; the faint upward tick of his eyebrow is the only indication you get that he recognizes you. But then, he’s cocking his head, and musing aloud —

“They say it’s good luck to have a cat on a pirate ship, but I’m afraid this one won’t do you any good today, Roronoa Zoro.”

“Oh god… he’s really doing this, isn’t he?” Nami’s hand slips into yours, squeezing tight, her voice nothing more than a terrified whisper.

You give a brief nod, squeezing back. On your other side, Usopp swallows hard, but Luffy doesn’t seem all that worried.

It’s a quick, brutal, and decisive fight, but you watch as Mihawk pulls back at the last second, Yoru slicing through the air, much slower and softer than you knew it could. Nevertheless, Zoro’s blood splatters the creaking wood beams below as he collapses. You feel your lungs slowly calcifying as everyone rushes to Zoro’s side but you stand there, frozen, the world tunneling around you, the wild thumping of your heart echoing in your ears as Mihawk slates you a single look before turning and strolling off back toward the Baratie.

You slip away in the chaos of everyone trying to get Zoro back onto the ship.

“Come to seek revenge for your little boyfriend?” Mihawk asks, casually leaning up against the near-empty bar in the Baratie’s mouth.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you reply, voice clipped. Your fingers are curled into fists at your side, nails digging into the flesh of your palms. Mihawk gives you a single once-over before tutting.

“I see you’ve been sharpening your claws.”

“I see you haven’t,” you bite back. Mihawk rolls his eyes.

“Dear, dear — if even you’ve noticed something then I really am getting rusty. Though it has been hard to find a good sparring partner ever since Shanks lost his arm. Careless man.”

“Why’d you really let him live?”

Mihawk pauses in his rather thorough inspection of his nails to look up at you, lips twitching.

“I meant what I said — the world needs a few more wildcards and… I have a feeling he’ll be coming to find me soon enough.”

“You don’t take on students.” You don’t quite manage to keep the bitterness from your voice even as Mihawk shrugs.

“Just because I haven’t before, doesn’t mean I won’t ever. Now run along — I think your little swordsman friend might need some help, hm?”

You open your mouth to argue, but you hear the distinct sounds of Luffy’s voice echoing out from the kitchen, high and desperate, followed by the base rumble of Zeff’s voice. You slink into the kitchen between the flapping doors, watching as Sanji scrambles to gather Zeff’s knives.

“I’ll get the fish,” you offer, making nearly everyone jump as you reach for the freezer box.

No one has the time to ask any more questions as Luffy leads the way back to the Merry.

Nami’s eyes are wide and over-bright when you set the yellowtail on the table next to Zeff, and the whole room watches with bated breath as the old chef starts to work. Wordlessly, you tug out the large curved needles and place them at his elbow. He spares you a grateful grunt as he grabs them.

You take three steps back, letting out a long breath as you press your back to the cool wood of the doorframe, watching as Zeff stitches Zoro back together.

You spend the next two and a half days curled up in the small chair next to Nami’s bed, dozing every so often, at other times humming, or keeping still as Nami, Usopp, and Luffy take their turns next to Zoro’s sleeping form as well. You’re reciting a childhood nursery rhyme when Zoro finally wakes up.

“I thought cats were supposed to be quiet…”

“— and all the king's horses and all the king’s men — oh… you’re awake.”

“What about the king’s horses and men?” Zoro’s voice is thick and gravelly from disuse, but there’s that familiar twist to his mouth as he turns slightly to blink blearily up at you.

“It… it doesn’t matter — I should go tell Luffy —”

“No, finish the story, kitten.”

Your voice catches in your chest, and after a second, you sigh, dropping back into your seat with a resigned little laugh.

“All the king’s horses and all the king’s men… couldn’t put Humpty back together again.”

Zoro hums, “Wow, cheerful little kitten, aren’t you? You always pick such nice things to say at a sick person’s bedside?”

“No, just the ones that really deserve it.”

Zoro laughs, the sound a base rumble that makes him wince, his hand shooting up to clutch at his chest. You lurch forward, catching yourself before you actually touch him, hovering there as Zoro opens his eyes and a strained sort of silence thickens in the air around you.

Like this, you’re acutely aware of the heat rising off of Zoro’s skin, the fact that his shirt is still pulled open to accommodate the thick bandages wrapped around his torso, the taut skin of his stomach, flexing as he takes in shallow breaths. Like this, you can count the freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose and see the pinprick black holes threatening to take over his eyes as they dilate.

It isn’t till you both hear the clatter of footsteps and Usopp flings himself into the room that you jerk back, blinking as Usopp gasps for breath, gesticulating wildly, rambling about Luffy and fishmen and a fight that’s broken out at the Baratie.

You glance down at Zoro, who sighs, letting his eyes fall shut.

“Go.”

“You stay put.”

“Right, like I’m goin’ anywhere anytime soon.”

Zoro grunts, and you spare him one more sharp look before following after Usopp.

Three days later finds you all back at sea, with a newly minted member in tow, chasing after Nami’s shadow.

It does not take long to track her down, and when you do, the fight is — if not quick, then at least decisive. You’re not the only one who notices the stiffness in Zoro’s limbs as everyone eats and drinks their way through a whole night of merry-making.

“Back for seconds — must’ve liked it!” Sanji crows, slapping another spoonful of food onto Zoro’s plate.

“It was okay.”

“That plate says different.”

“Not hungry?” you jump slightly at Nami’s voice, and you lift your eyes just in time to see her eyebrows kick up. She cocks them at you before settling down by your side.

“Not often that you’re caught off guard — something must really be bothering you.” You can hear the edge of forced lightness in her voice, and your eyes flicker to the fresh bandage on right arm.

Events of the past few days flash behind your eyes and you cast her a small grin.

“Just thinking…”

“Sounds like trouble.”

“It does seem to follow me around, doesn’t it?”

Nami regards you with a curious look before scoffing, “Don’t you mean ‘us’?”

You frown, turning towards her. She slates you a glance before darting her eyes back to the party.

“In case you haven’t noticed… ‘Trouble’s kind of our middle name. If you don’t like it, then…”

Her voice trails off then, and the playful smile flickers like a flame caught in a sudden gust of wind. You press your lips.

“Never said I don’t like it.” You return her smile and see her firelight catch again.

“C’mon then — no more sitting around —” you let yourself be pulled to your feet, the pair of you stumbling towards the large bonfire where several of the villagers are strumming at battered instruments, though the music they make is no less brilliant for it.

“Ah, now there’s a sight for sore eyes,” Sanji says, tapping a bit of ash off a freshly lit cigarette as Zoro scrapes the final bites of food from his plate.

“Hn.” But his gaze lingers on the light-caught shape of you, a black dress hugging the curves of your waist and the bend of your hip, cascading out as you spin beneath Nami’s arm. There’s a softness about you he’s never seen before — something more than the damnable feline grace with which you fought or the steel-lined quickness and skill that forever nipped at his heels like a hungry dog, reminding him that he still had so much more to master, to learn — no, this is something else entirely.

Something lissome and light, something tantantalizing and sweet.

Something… lovely.

And it stirs something inside him too — something not at all sweet and light, though… no less tantalizing.

A semi-inebriated Nojiko manages to pull Sanji into the fray, and a moment later, you glance over to meet his eyes. A line catches then, hooked from the center of his chest to the dark, mesmerizing flash of your eyes, Zoro feels himself tipping forward.

Until he actually is, and there’s a bottle being pressed into his hand by a stranger he doesn’t even glance at.

He finds himself at your side, somehow, everyone spinning around the bonfire like marionettes on a massive stage, his limbs loose and a smile tugging wide his lips. At some point, he thinks he might’ve felt your hands in his, but then again, waking up the next morning face down in a pile of hay, a headache pounding behind his eyes, he thinks it’s probably just his imagination.

They set course for the Grand Line proper then, and everyone settles into a kind of routine. Though despite everyone’s initial protests, Zoro can be seen at the bow of the ship every sunrise and sundown, running through katas, grunting and wincing occasionally when his wound threatens to reopen, at which point you’d appear like a vague, disgruntled shadow, and shoo him back to bed.

“I’ll never best Mihawk if I don’t get better —”

“Exactly.” You pin him with a hard look; he can almost see your hackles rising as he huffs and slumps down into his hammock. You relax slightly, perched atop a rather precarious pile of barrels, but Zoro knows better than to doubt your balance.

“You’ll never beat him if you don’t get better first,” you repeat, narrowing your eyes as Zoro scoffs, pointedly twisting to face the other way. The ship rocks the hammock to and fro, and after a while, Zoro feels himself drifting off into that ever-familiar limbo of half-sleep, his mind wandering through the avenues of his memories, images coming in watercolor flashes, seeping into his vision.

“Tell me something,” he says, his voice low, his eyes still closed.

“Hm?” you barely make a noise, but he feels your presence in the corner of his room, has memorized the specific size and shape and weight of you such that he could pick you out of a moving crowd with his eyes closed, his face turned the other way.

“What do you want to know?”

“You had plenty of stories when I was unconscious — don’t you have more?”

For a moment, you don’t speak, and the silence is filled by the rhythmic creaking of wood, the soft splash of water against the ship’s hull, the occasional cry of seabirds, and the dull, muffled sounds of laughter and conversation from above deck.

“Once upon a time, a kitten was left by the roadside in a tiny village by her mother, who was sick and didn’t have enough milk to feed all her children, but it just so happens that a great big hawk was soaring overhead and took a liking to the kitten. The hawk picked her up in his great talons and brought her to a castle on an island, surrounded by thorns and briars and the most beautiful roses the kitten had ever seen. There, the hawk set her the task of hunting down mice so he himself could go after bigger, juicier prey — for you see, the hawk had long dreamed of becoming the greatest hunter in the whole wide world.”

At this, Zoro shifts to turn back towards you, peering open one eye to watch as you leaned back against the wall of the small storeroom he’d claimed as his own, one of your knees propped up, your arm hanging loosely over it, your other leg dangling down over the side of your barrel, your heel occasionally knocking against the wood with gentle little thumps.

You take a deep breath and glance down at him, a sad, faraway look in your eyes as you continue —

“Eventually, the kitten got very good at catching mice — she grew faster, stealthier, learned to sharpen her claws and teeth, learned to hide amongst the beautiful roses in the garden until the mice grew complacent before she struck. But no matter how much she begged, the hawk would never let her hunt bigger things. And then one day… the hawk took her up in his giant claws again and tossed her onto the beach — told her that there was nothing more he could teach her, and that she ought to find her own way in the world.”

You sigh, shaking your head, “What a liar…” you murmur, almost to yourself as you lower your eyes to your hands, “he never really taught me anything…”

And this time, it’s Zoro who remains silent, letting the quiet seep through the floorboards like the thick, morning mists, rising off of the water’s surface before the sun bakes it all away.

Then, he swings himself off the hammock and makes for the door. Before he can reach it, you’re in front of him, blocking his path with a bright glint in your eyes and a challenge in your smile.

“I’ve rested,” he says, plainly, taking half a step back.

“You’ll never get better like this —”

“Exactly,” he throws the word back in your face before sighing and looking away, “so… help me.”

You blink, staring up at him as he stares right back at you.

“Help you how?” You resist the urge to look away, swallow down the bitterness crawling up the back of your throat — I can’t even help myself —

“Mihawk trained you —”

“No,” you spit out, your shoulders tensing as you glare up at Zoro, “he didn’t — he did everything in his power not to —”

“Tch — you lived with him on that island and he trusted you with keeping the — the mice away —” a vein ticks in Zoro’s jaw as you watch him stare down at you, your heart thumping warm and wild in your chest, “just because he didn’t personally hold your hand and teach you his technique… doesn’t mean he wasn’t training you in his own way.”

You swallow hard.

“So what? It’s not like I can ever beat him.”

“You might. Or I might. If we help each other.”

You ball your fingers into fists, “What makes you think either of us stands a chance against him?”

At this, Zoro’s smile goes slanted — a raw, wild, blood-beat thing.

“Because I’ve seen you fight and I think you’re good. And… I know I’m good. Or at least, I know I’ll get there.”

There’s a certain quicksilver edge to the shape of his words that makes you look up, your eyes meeting his like the colliding cores of two tidally locked stars — something terrible and magnificent, a catastrophe of gravity and inevitability.

Your mind spins and for a second, you can almost see it, that distant future in which Roronoa Zoro becomes the best, better — even — than the best. The greatest in the world. You lean back, your gaze appraising.

“Tell you what — if you get good enough to catch me once… I’ll take you to him.”

Zoro frowns, “What do you mean?”

Your grin quirks and you lilt your head, “Exactly what it sounds like — you get fast enough to catch me, and catch me properly then… I’ll take you to his island.”

Zoro stares. And then, his own grin stretches to match yours.

“Deal.”

Things change after that, the mornings and evenings no longer finding Zoro alone at the bow of the ship, but always with the shape of you flickering around him, the bright, hungry gleam of sun on steel flashing around you.

“Too slow —” you gasp, dodging beneath one of his swipes as he grunts and swings downward, nearly catching the tips of your hair as you spin away.

“But — you’re getting there,” you grin, holding up a hand as you lean back against the side of the Merry, your other hand pressed to your chest.

“Outta breath, kitten?” Zoro asks, smirking as he slowly sheaths his sword, sweat glistening along the planes and grooves of his chest.

“Hardly.” You flick him a disapproving look but there’s a tiny smile that threatens the corner of your mouth as he scoffs, reaching for a rag to dab at his forehead. You can’t help the way your eyes linger on the strong, sturdy ripples of muscles that flex along his back and shoulders as he straightens up either, and when he catches you staring, it’s all you can do to hold his gaze.

You don’t give him a chance to gloat. Instead, you swing your knives around your fingers and cast him a grin.

“Breakfast,” you say.

“Mm,” he agrees, just as Nami comes padding up onto the main deck, stifling a yawn and squinting at you both with a mildly disgusted look on her face.

“How the hell are you guys up so damn early all the time?”

“Ah, they say that cats are diurnal creatures — so they’re most awake at dawn and at dusk. As for the moss-head… I’ve heard that idiots don’t need as much sleep. Not as much brain to rest, y’know?” Sanji remarks, smirking as he brushes by Nami with a wink.

Zoro scoffs, wiping off his blade with a rough cloth, “It’s called bettering yourself. Not that you’d know what it means. All this time and your congee’s still runny as f —”

“Says the guy who can’t tell the difference between sunny side up and scrambled eggs —”

You sigh, ducking around the squabbling pair with a long, sinuous stretch.

“So… how goes the sparring, hm?” Nami asks, her voice dripping with innuendo as she follows you into the kitchen, her sleep-blurred eyes now sharp, her grin moon-sly and teasing.

“It goes,” you say, opening a cupboard and rummaging around for anything that catches your eye.

“I see… and is it going somewhere in particular?” Nami drapes herself across the long couch, her eyes tracking you as you move from cupboard to cupboard, and finally stopping in front of the fridge.

You hoist yourself up onto the suspended table, a glass of milk in your hands, “Depends on where this particular place is.”

Nami shrugs, “Dunno… just seems like Zoro’s spending a lot of time following you around like a lost little puppy these days. When was the last time he’s left you alone for more than say —” Nami makes a show of checking her watch, “15 minutes?”

“We’re just training together — and he doesn’t follow me around all the time —” but even as the words leave your mouth, Zoro ducks into the kitchen, his eyes skipping from you to Nami and back again.

“Waiter said we’re on our own for breakfast.”

“I’m good with milk.” You hold up your glass even as Nami snickers and Zoro nods, rummaging through a few cupboards until he pulls out a bag of jerky. At this, Nami’s eyes slingshot between the pair of you one last time before she sighs dramatically and saunters back out of the room, muttering something about conning Sanji into making proper breakfast.

The quiet twines around your ankles, soft and familiar. Zoro leans against the counter, the small bag of jerky untouched as he watches you sip at your milk. Heat curls along the curve of your spine as you feel the weight of his eyes tracking your lips, the bright pink flash of your tongue.

You swallow.

So does he.

“You’re getting faster.”

“You’re getting stronger.”

Your words overlap like the pages of a book, flipped through too fast.

You blink, and then — laughter. Your’s startled and shy, his soft and… you turn just fast enough to catch him duck his head the other way, shoving his hand into the bag of jerky. He clears his throat.

“Thanks.”

“What for?” you work to press some of your usual purr back into your voice, but it sounds strange and tinny in the wane morning light.

“For…” Zoro hesitates, and for a second, you find yourself leaning into the smooth weight of his voice, as if you might be able to catch his next words in the palm of your hands like bruised fruit.

“Alright — outta my kitchen, mosshead — lovely ladies like these should always start the day with a well-balanced meal.”

Sanji kicks open the door and Zoro glares. You’re already hopping off the counter, quiet as starlight, grinning behind Sanji’s back even as Zoro sighs.

“It’s not your kitchen, waiter. I’ve got as much right to be in here as you do.”

You try to slip away but Nami’s hand darts out to catch your wrist.

“Not so fast… kitten.”

Your entire face flushes at the word.

“I don’t know what you’re —”

Nami’s satisfied smile is more Cheshire than cat but you allow her to drag you up to the bow of the ship, half-concealed by her tangerine trees. Up here, the air tastes briny and sweet with morning air. Up here, you have you squint against the sea’s shattered glass light, cast up towards the dawning sky.

Nami leans against the railing and casts her eyes out towards the distant horizon. There’s always been a sun-kissed quality about her, the brilliant orange of her hair, the darkening patches of freckles scattered across her nose-bridge. You let her press her arm to yours and feel the warmth and soft of her skin.

“So. Zoro, huh?”

You sigh, looking down towards the dark emerald of the waves below. You watch as the water froths against the ship’s hull, peeling away in roils of white lace.

“A little cliche, if you ask me — y’know, the swordsman and the knife-girl? But… I guess it makes sense.” There’s a lightness to her voice that makes you laugh, a solidness to her words that makes you powerless to contest them.

“They say it’s good to have hobbies in common,” you offer, hoping to match the playfulness in her voice. Nami chuckles, making a noise at the back of her throat.

“Oh yeah, I bet ‘bodycount’ means something totally different to the two of you, huh?”

You let a real laugh break though then, your head tipping back and reveling in the sound. The rapidly rising sun casts everything in a dreamy, slant-wise glow — golden hour, you think you’ve heard it called. But you wonder if it’s might just be more amber than gold, standing here, laughing with Nami, you feel for the first time, a weight shift and slip from your shoulders. Like shedding a thick coat after a long day’s travel.

Then, the light shifts, a thin fog of clouds dulling out the sun’s light as Nami fixes you with her too-sharp eyes.

“He’s going after Mihawk, isn’t he?”

You sober as well, wetting your lips. “Eventually, yeah.”

“And… you’re helping him.”

You nod.

Nami sighs, dropping her chin onto a the heel of her hand.

“You… really think he can do it? Beat Mihawk?”

You take your time scanning the horizon. Without the transcendent glow of the rising sun, the waves are cooler, darker, and you know better than most the monsters lurking just beneath the surface.

“Mihawk’s only human,” you say. To which Nami scoffs.

“Right. That makes it loads better.”

You instinctively reach for where you knives would be, the empty loops on your belt like a persistent itch in your fingertips.

“At least it means he bleeds red just like the rest of us.”

Nami nods as you push away from the rails, retracing your steps into the kitchen where you’d left your knives.

Sanji is halfway through grilling mackerel with a steaming pot of miso soup bubbling on the stove. He gives you a wink and a knowing grin as you wander in, jerking his chin towards the hanging table where Zoro is running an oiled cloth along the length of his sword.

“In case you were lookin’ for your knives,” Sanji’s voice is silken tofu smooth as he turns back to his cooking.

Zoro doesn’t look up as you reach for your knives, laid out perfectly, already cleaned and oiled.

“I was doing mine anyway,” Zoro says, by way of an explanation.

You smirk, reaching out to tuck each one into its spot on your belt.

“Thanks, pretty boy, altruism looks good on you.”

You slink from the room before you can hear Sanji’s witty taunt or Zoro’s biting retort, a satisfied heat stirring steady at the base of your stomach.

The languorous days slip into sun-soaked weeks, and though it takes longer than anyone would’ve liked for Zoro’s wound to heal, it does. And the scar, well —

“I think it looks awesome!” Luffy says, clapping Zoro on the shoulder as you tug away the gauze to inspect the long thin strip of puckered skin, a few shades lighter than the rest of Zoro’s chest.

“Yeah, real… manly-like,” Usopp adds, arms folded, leaning against the far wall, fighting an expression between impressed slightly queasy. He backpedals immediately as Zoro casts him a dark look.

“N-not that you’re not real or manly already or anything like that! It just uh — adds to the allure, y’know?”

Nami makes a face, “Yeah, I don’t know about allure…”

Sanji grunts.

“When did this become a museum exhibit?” Zoro snaps, frowning at the entire crew, gathered around him as you unstick the last of the bandages from his now healed stomach.

“We just wanted to make sure you were alright, Zoro!” Luffy says, rummaging around for a snack now that he’s satisfied his first mate is properly healed.

“I’ve been fine for weeks,” Zoro says flatly as Usopp joins Luffy and Sanji wanders towards the window to let out a puff of smoke.

“Can you lean back a bit — I think it’s still not completely healed by your —” you frown as you try to press Zoro back, your palm splaying against his stomach as your free hand traces at the waistband of his pants towards where the large gash tapers into his right hip.

Zoro hisses between his teeth and the room goes deathly quiet.

You look up to find everyone staring, and then half a second later Nami leaps to her feet, talking loudly about a part of the East Blue map she wants to finish, Usopp stuttering after her about checking the knots on the main mast, and Sanji dragging Luffy by the scruff of the neck, insisting that they set up the fishing lines for the day.

The door slams behind Luffy and somehow, the room feels more full than it had been just a few seconds prior. The silence pulses between you, thick and pitched and expanding.

You clear your throat delicately, lowering your eyes back to the task at hand, doing your best to ignore the uncomfortable heat now creeping up the back of your neck.

“Can you —”

Zoro leans back wordlessly, propping his arms against the table, his hips shifting forward to allow you access.

You gently tug down the material of his waistband several inches to reveal the tip of the wound, still a bit raw and red, possibly from the friction of his clothes, or just his general lack of regard for his own recovery.

“Yeah, it’s still not all —” your voice cuts off as you look up to find Zoro staring, and the burgeoning hunger you find there stills your heart in your chest. It’s a strange, base, animal thing, caught in the swirling darkness of his irises, but he holds his breath, and so you do yours —

“Healed…” you swallow hard, reaching for the thick, pungent balm sitting by his left hand.

With slow, methodic movements, you uncap the balm and dip your finger into the sticky surface, reaching forward to run the tip along the soft redness of Zoro’s skin. Thinking back later, you might’ve been thankful for the sharp herbal fragrance of the balm to distract you from the deeper, muskier smell of Zoro’s skin, salted as it always is with sea and sweat, tempered with the unmistakable scent of steel.

But right then, all you can think about is the sharp cut of his hipbone as it slants down, and down, and —

You pull back when you’re done, making to wipe your hand on a piece of washcloth when Zoro catches your wrist in one smooth movement, pulling you up till you’re chest to chest, your body slotted between his spread open legs.

“Zoro, what —”

“Caught you —” His voice is nothing more than a whisper, but you feel it rumbling through his chest to yours.

“— You’re losing your touch.”

You narrow your eyes, “Not a chance — I was distracted, that’s not fair —”

You try to tug your wrist away only for him to tighten his grip. A fist-like something clenches inside your stomach along with his fingers. Fire licks at the base of your belly before climbing up your spine.

“Hn. All’s fair.”

You watch in near slow motion as his eyes flick down to your lips and back up again; you’re helpless to do else but mirror the movement. With your wrist still caught in his grasp, it’s almost too easy for him to pull you forward, to tip you into him till you’re nearly spilling over, till you’re scrambling back with half-caught breaths and wide eyes and your other palm pressing firmly to his chest, where you can feel the fluttering beats of his own heart caught just beneath your touch.

“I-if you’re gonna make a move, at least wait till I’ve finished wiping off my hands,” the words come tumbling out, more a reflex than anything else, but it makes Zoro blink and lean back just a few inches. His grip on you eases ever so slightly, and you tug your wrist from his grasp, expecting him to snap to, to jerk away, to blush or apologize, but instead, all he does is watch you mutely wipe at your hands with those dark, hungry eyes.

When you’ve finished, he quirks an eyebrow as if waiting for you to make the next move.

At this, you huff, rolling your eyes, “Come on*,* pretty boy — you can’t expect me to dress your wounds and make the first —”

The kiss is quick and searing and over all too fast, as most first kisses are. The second kiss is more patient, a slow easing in, a teasing of lips and and a testing of tongues. The third is breathless, hedging on urgent. The fourth — well the fourth is cut short by Zoro pressing his forehead to yours, the both of you panting.

“Wh — what the hell was that?” you ask, gulping down great lungfuls of breath as Zoro scoffs.

“C’mon kitten, don’t go gettin’ shy on me now…” Zoro smirks even as you lean forward to try and nip at his bottom lip, eyes flashing. He tilts your mouth back to his, and words are lost for a few more moments before you find them again.

“Who said anything about getting shy? I just wanted an explanation.”

Zoro makes an abortive noise at the back of his throat as you nose into the place under his jaw and graze your teeth along the skin there.

“C-can’t a guy say thanks for someone dressing his wounds?”

You pull back with a soft hiss and a sly smile; it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter.

“Don’t tell me this is how you’ve been thanking all your savoirs. I’ll have to go compare notes with Zeff —”

At this, Zoro grunts, wincing slightly as your belt presses against the inside of his hip where his wound is still raw. You pull away, startled.

“Sorry — I didn’t —”

“Hey.”

Zoro tugs you back with soft hands and an even softer smile, “Not sure I liked having you talk about Zeff while we were…”

You break him off with a helpless laugh and he joins you a second later. And then, before either of you can say more, Usopp’s voice echoes down from above deck.

“Land ho! Land ho!”

You glance back at Zoro, who slips off the table and has the decency to rearrange his clothes. You share a meaningful look before trying to pull away but Zoro once again catches your wrist.

This time, his lips are set and his eyes are just a tad bit harder than before.

“Don’t forget, kitten, you still owe me an island.”

You pause, peering at him beneath half-lidded eyes as your head lists first to one side, and then the other.

His eyes track yours before ticking down to your lips once more, where your tongue traces a path his own had run along not so long ago.

“You should know by now, pretty boy, that I never forget my debts.”

And just like that, your wrist slips from between his fingers, and Zoro’s left with nothing more than the taste of your mouth and the flicker of your shadow as he steps into the dim hallway.

Loguetown is a bustling place, a bleached button pressed into the chest of the East Blue, bright as a Marine’s new uniform. People blow through like fall leaves on the wayward wind and ships of all shapes and sizes dot every bit of tangible coast, their masts foresting the skyline until it’s barely visible from the docks.

“Need new swords,” Zoro announces as the crew all gather on the creaky boardwalk.

“Same. Could do with a few more knives,” you nod.

Nami tuts, rolling her eyes, “Well I’m getting a new wardrobe.”

“I’m gonna get some lunch!” Luffy grins widely as Sanji sighs, digging in his pockets for a fresh light.

“Looks like we’re stuck with the grocery shopping,” he says, nudging Usopp.

“Uh… I was actually gonna go check out some tech shops to find some parts for…” Usopp trails off as Sanji pins him with a look before shrugging, “Or… I mean, I don’t mind doing groceries first and then looking for parts.”

“Good man!” Sanji smiles, clapping him on the back as he frog-marches Usopp towards the market.

“No getting into fights, got it?” Nami looks between you and Zoro, “we need to be discreet.”

You bat your lashes, “Us? Never! We’ll be sweet and soft as kangaroos.”

Nami frowns, “Wait — kangaroos aren’t —”

You laugh, flouncing off towards town, “Never said they were!”

Zoro sighs before following after.

“It’s not your first time here,” he says after a while. It’s not a question, so you don’t provide an answer, contenting yourself with looking around at all the new shop fronts that had popped up since you were last here, and all the old haunts that have been here since what you’re sure is the inception of time itself.

“Where are we going?” he asks after several more minutes of turning down seemingly random streets.

You flash him a grin, “I know a place.”

When you duck into the arms shop, Ipponmatsu glances up from over his bulbous nose before doing a double-take. His eyes narrow to slits.

“You! You nearly robbed me blind the last time you were here! Get —”

Drop a bag of clinking Berry into one of the sword bins with a feline smirk, drawing a long finger against the hilt of some unnamed blade.

“There. That should set us even. And… you did try to swindle me first. Plus, I’m here on proper business today — my friend is in the market for some swords.”

Ipponmatsu’s eyes remain slits, but his fingers twitch as he edges toward the bin, snatching the sack from it and clutching it to his chest.

Zoro glances around at the various blades hung and displayed around the surprisingly spacious shop. The distinct unctuous tone of your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by the shopkeeper, but he seems too distracted by the sack of Berry to snipe any further.

“Well,” Ipponmatsu gruffs after a few more seconds, “I’m watchin’ you… oh…” his eyes slide from you to Zoro and then to the Wadou Ichimonji at his side. Zoro almost feels the man’s jaw go slack for a second before he slams it back into place.

“E-esteemed swordsman, sir! That blade — at your side — if I might just take a look —”

You’re perched on the cashier’s counter faster than either of them can blink, one leg crossed over the other, feet hanging idly off the side, a palm pinning Ipponmatsu’s greedy hand to the surface, an almost bored expression on your face as you squint down at his fingers.

“Hm… don’t they say that swordsmen ought to take good care of their hands? I could feed a whole family of mice with the dead skin of your cuticles.”

Ipponmatsu yelps and tries to jerk free but your hold is firm, and Zoro has to fight down the amused grin twitching at the edge of his mouth. He’s felt first hand how strong your grip can be, how unnervingly quick the pressure is there, slicing off circulation with the precision of a blade.

“W-what do you want?!” the shopkeeper looks wildly between the pair of you.

You shrug, “Like I said, we’re in the market for some swords. I’d just like to make sure we keep all the dealings above water, hm?”

Ipponmatsu glares at you for a second longer before all the fight goes out of him and he slumps against the counter.

“Oh, alright alright! Look at the damned swords — it’s just… you’ve got a mighty good blade there. You’d do well not to lose it, ” he jerks his chin towards Zoro’s blade, “or get it stolen,” his eyes flash back to where you’re now cheerfully perusing a collection of knives in the far corner, the space you’d inhabited on the cashier’s counter static with your absence.

Ipponmatsu rubs as his wrist. Zoro nods.

“Yeah. I know.”

“Don’t worry — I’ve got no interest in katana’s. I prefer more subtlety myself.” You swing a pair of serrated claw knives around your fingers as if testing them for weight before putting them back.

All in all, it takes half an hour, a cursed blade, and some groveling on Ipponmatsu’s part before you and Zoro stroll out of the arms shop with two brand new katanas strapped to his side, and a fresh set of throwing needles tucked into your belt.

You take off in a random direction and Zoro follows after. You pass through a wide open square brimming with people and slip into a dark alley between two buildings made of carved marble so white it almost hurts the eyes.

Zoro is quiet as he walks behind you, until he isn’t.

“So, what’s the story?”

“Oh… just something from a past life of mine,” you answer offhandedly, fluttering your fingers through the air.

“Yeah? And how many of those have you got?”

You shoot him a piercing look and a crooked grin, “Some number between one and nine — take your best guess.”

Zoro falls silent again as a pair of drunken sailor careen by, arm in arm, belting a sea shanty.

After a while, you turn, “Hey, how’dyou know there was even story to begin with?”

Zoro ticks up an eyebrow, his hands resting one on top of the other over his newly obtained sword hilts as the pair of you wander through the tributary streets, ducking under awnings and slipping through crowds.

“With you, there’s always a story.”

He feels your eyes on him first, and he lets you watch him for a while, his own eyes slipping from store fronts to shop windows. Occasionally, he lets himself linger on the reflection of you and him — him made of so many solid, hard shapes, and you, soft as water, quick as light, elusive as any shadow.

“Then… how do you think this one ends?” you ask, your eyes meeting his in a reflection of a window across which you can see the a vague Nami-shaped pile of expensive clothes.

“This one?”

“Yeah. Ours.”

Zoro grunts, letting his gaze flick away, “What makes you think it’ll end anytime soon?��

He catches your smile and you let him, “Who said anything about soon?”

He feels the prickle of heat as it crawls up his neck and clears his throat.

“Well then, maybe when I become the World’s Greatest Swordsman.”

You frown, suddenly contemplative.

“So… it’ll end when you beat Mihawk?”

Zoro shrugs, “Might. Or it might not.”

Your frown deepens as you turn to face him proper. Through the glass, Nami catches sight of you and is waving you in, pointing at a rack of clothes glittering in sequins and patched in colors you’ve never imagined putting on your body before today.

“No? Won’t that be when you become the greatest in the world? When you beat him?”

Zoro turns, and there — just there, caught in the light of his eyes, the spark of something as he looks down at you. There’s a smile pressed between his lips that’s part mischief, part hesitancy, and all earnest truth.

“World’s a big place. Might have to check around to make sure there’s not a better swordsman out there, somewhere.” His voice is low, hope twisting beneath its rippling surface.

You feel your heart skittering your chest, the warmth in your stomach crystalizing into something more than simple curiosity and harder than desire.

“Ah… right. That does pose a problem, doesn’t it?”

Zoro makes a consenting noise.

“So,” he says, with a tone of light finality as he turns back toward the window behind which Nami is now twirling in front of a mirror in a truly lurid dress of hot pink.

“So…” you say, feigning an air of defeat as you sigh, “I guess you’re stuck with me for a while yet, pretty boy.”

“Hn.” Zoro, for his part, doesn’t sound too upset with the proclamation.

Just then, Luffy’s voice shouts from behind you both and you turn to find him waving.

“Zoro! You have to come look! There’s a guy at the market selling Sea King Meat!”

Then, Nami finally pokes her head out from inside the clothing store, now sporting a pair of blindingly bright disco pants.

“C’mon! There’s like a million dresses I put aside for you to try!”

You and Zoro turn back to each other in a single, stolen breath. Your eyes collide, and Zoro smiles. A small, brilliant, unguarded thing.

“Go on, kitten. I’ll catch up to you.”

You toss him a wide, lingering grin.

“Right. You’d better.”

Zoro waves as he turns towards Luffy, “Don’t worry. I will.”

291 notes · View notes

hells-wasabii · 3 months

Text

A/N: no one really requested this, but the idea popped into my head. It’s been sitting on my master list in the in progress status but I literally only just got to it, wanted to get more reqs done before I jumped into other stuff

Character: Velvette

Type: Drabble (Velvette X fem!reader NSFW, Smut)

Warning! NSFW ahead under the cut!!!

A lazy grin rose to Velvette’s lips as her hips met yours with a satisfying ‘clap’, reinstating a steady rhythm once more.

“C’mon, babes, I know you have another in you.” Her words were accentuated by another particularly deep thrust of the silicone member. It nearly left you seeing stars. Any answer you might have had died on your tongue, instead replaced by needy moans.

Your whines were met by a throaty chuckle, black-tinted lips meeting your throat. The kiss was naturally followed by another bite. Tears pricked your eyes as more explicits rolled off your tongue, hands vying for purchase, leaving behind scratches along the long expanses of exposed of her back. Your nails had already long since broken skin, something that only served to spur the overlord prior.

You had already unraveled twice now, you weren’t sure you even could a third time. But Velvette seemed sure you could. The influencer certainly had a way of pushing your limits.

God, did it feel good. There was no denying that your lover knew exactly what she was doing. Every kiss, every bite, every touch had a purpose.

As if to prove that point her thumb found your clit, rubbing lazy circles around the bundle of nerves. She didn’t want to send you over the edge again just yet. She wanted to hear more of the desperate noises from you, but she knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

Finally all at once you came undone, your hold on Velvette tightened. You cried out into her shoulder. Weakly, you let go, your body sinking into the bed. With ragged breaths you opened your eyes to find your lover staring down at you, eyes clouded with lust.

The overlord nearly felt bad as she took in the sight of you splayed across the mattress, the sheets positively ruined. But any lament she may have had was quickly washed away by the pride that settled in her chest. She couldn’t help it, really. You just looked so pretty left in a haze and covered in marks.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin headcanons #hazbin imagine #velvette x reader #velvette hazbin hotel

350 notes · View notes

thejakeslayla · 7 months

Text

╰─▸ ❝ soulmate connection ❞ - ,, jake sim

pairing bf!jake x gn!reader ୨୧ genre fluff non idol au ୨୧ warnings none ୨୧ wc 0.5k ୨୧ req; prompt 20 (falling asleep on the couch, waking up to not only a blanket around them, but their partner squeezed in behind them); dialouge 27 (“how come you always end up under my blanket?”);

you signed while entering your flat, the first week of autumn was absolutely awful. not just because of the heavy workload but also due to the relentless weather.

you had always enjoyed the rain, but only when you were snugly wrapped in a blanket with a warm cup of tea and soft music playing in the background, listening to the raindrops gently tapping against your window. the rain lost its charm when you found yourself soaked for the third time this week as you stepped inside your flat.

without wasting any time, you changed into dry clothes and took a soothing warm shower, hoping to restore your body to its normal temperature. exiting the bathroom, you couldn't ignore the uncomfortable sensation in your throat, and your head throbbed.

cursing silently, you realised you were experiencing the first symptoms of a cold. a few minutes later, you entered the living room, clutching a couple of medicine packages in one hand and a steaming cup of tea in the other. you settled down and placed everything on the coffee table.

you turned on the tv to break the silence that had filled your apartment and took the pills, all the while trying to focus on the show playing.

you didn’t even noticed when you drifted off to sleep on the sofa, your body curled up in search of warmth.

when jake arrived at the apartment, he noticed the unusual quietness, the only sound being the muffled tv. he was surprised that you didn't greet him as usual, assuming you were just focused on the show playing. however, he was surprised when he entered the living room and found you fast asleep, surrounded by medication. concern immediately welled up within him.

"oh, my angel," he whispered softly, gently brushing the hair away from your face. he planted a tender kiss on your forehead and briefly left the living room to get a blanket from your shared bedroom, changing into more comfortable clothes along the way.

upon his return, you were still in a deep asleep. jake covered you with the blanket and contemplated that taking a quick afternoon nap wouldn't hurt anyone. he carefully manoeuvred your body to create some space for himself, and as he did, you groaned in your sleep, instinctively wrapping your arms around him, your cheek resting against his chest.

ake's heart nearly melted when he saw how cuddly you were. he couldn't resist planting another kiss on your cheek, which stirred you from your slumber. you rubbed your eyes and glanced around, a bit disoriented when you found yourself unable to move due to jake's arms embracing you.

"jake? you're back already?" your voice sounded husky and deep, likely from a sore throat.

"sweetheart, you sound terrible. didn't you wear the scarf i got you?" he inquired, his hand gently stroking your hair.

"i didn't," you admitted, resting your head on his chest once more. you closed your eyes, listening to the soothing rhythm of jake's heartbeat. "i was in a hurry this morning."

your boyfriend let out a sigh in response, his fingers continuing to play with your hair.

“how come you always end up under my blanket?” you broke the silence after a few minutes. "especially when i need you the most?"

"i just know, my love," he replied, his voice still soft, just like honey; a sweet feeling wrapping around your heart. "it's what they call a soulmate connection."

#thejakeslayla #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enha x reader #enhypen x you #jake x reader #enhypen #jake x you #jake x y/n #jake drabble #jake drabbles #jake imagines #jake fluff #jake soft hours

428 notes · View notes

here2bbtstrash · 1 year

Note

Request: Jimin and/or Hobi x innocent/virgin reader. innocence/corruption kink. maybe teaching her how to do a blowjob idk. smut.

WOOOOOF usually virgin/innocent smut is not really my bag but. idk. the stars aligned and in this moment it was very much my bag. we went full nasty with it 🙆‍♀️ thank you for this req - i hope you enjoy!!! 🌹

~taking jihope drabble requests all month!!~

pairing: hoseok x virgin!reader wordcount: it's like 1.2k but we had a vision alright contains: member POV 😈, alcohol mention, reader is a virgin and v sexually inexperienced (it's her first time doing like everything okay), hobi is a good teacher tho 😏, first blowjob, he is... definitely turned on by her innocence (i mean this is really what it says on the tin lmao), some dirty talk/name calling, face fucking, might be under-negotiated if u squint, she touches herself, a surprise facial lol, manhandling, he eats her out over her underwear - i think that's it !!

~*~

You’ve never done this before.

That’s all Hoseok can think as you sink to your knees in front of him, eyes big and blinking, awaiting instruction.

It’s why you picked him, he’d learned tonight, after you’d sipped at your vodka cranberry until it loosened your lips. You’d swiped on his dating app profile after seeing his listed occupation: dance instructor.

That’s what you needed. A teacher.

You’d confessed it with your face buried in your palms, drunk enough to say it but sober enough to still feel the shame. Growing up, you’d listened to the stories as your friends started having sex, blossoming one by one into experienced, confident adults. But it just never happened for you.

And now, here you are. A late bloomer. Inexperienced. “A virgin,” you’d admitted, mortified. “It’s fucking embarrassing.”

Hoseok thought it was hot, actually, but he kept that to himself.

He knows he’s a good teacher: attentive, detail-oriented, a good communicator. And very patient. But fuck, if seeing you sit back on your socked heels and lick your lips doesn’t test that patience.

“Take it out, baby.”

You fumble open the button on his jeans, shaky-handed, clearly nervous, so Hoseok helps you out, easing pants and boxers down in one go. He doesn’t miss the look on your face as you take him in.

God, he’s already hard and you haven’t so much as breathed on him.

“Ever seen one before?” he murmurs, fingers carding through your hair.

The self-conscious exhale you let out tells him the answer before you even find the words. You don’t have to.

“That’s okay. Just touch it.”

Hoseok can barely bite back his groan when you wrap your hand around him and give a tentative squeeze. He allows you a second to get used to the weight of him, the feeling, velvet firm and blood hot.

Shy little thing with a cock in her hand. He’ll ruin you if you let him. Take every first you’re willing to give.

You shift on the floor, and Hoseok thinks maybe you’re gonna ask to stop, crawl back into his bed for another hour of his tongue in your mouth, his hands pawing at your tits over your shirt.

But then he feels it: the soft pink drag of your tongue at the crown of his cock. One pass, then two. Like he’s a fucking ice cream cone.

It tears a rough sound from the back of his throat. He wonders if you can feel him pulse in your hand, if you can taste the precum drooling out of his slit as you keep on kitten licking at him.

“Yeah, you wanna taste?” he asks, and you nod with his cock still on the flat of your tongue. “Suck on the tip,” he instructs, because this is what you’re here for. “Just watch your teeth.”

With a soft noise, you do what your teacher says.

Hoseok’s first taste of the sweet, wet warmth of your mouth is made twice as good by the way you glance up at him through your lashes, clearly searching for an affirmation that you’re doing it right. Too innocent to know what you look like: a perfect little whore.

“So pretty like this, baby,” he groans, ever a believer in positive reinforcement. “Suckin’ on your very first cock.”

A muscle in your throat jumps; he wonders if that’s a twinge of embarrassment rolling through you. Wonders if it’s fucked up how much he likes that.

“Want some more?” he asks, and you’re already stretching your lips further down his shaft, dragging his entire tip and then some over the hot stripe of your tongue. Hoseok cups your jaw with one hand as he pushes into your mouth, gentle as he can. He can’t quite hide the ragged edge to his breathing.

“Hollow your cheeks,” he rasps. “Suck harder.”

The added pressure when you tighten up around him nearly makes his knees buckle.

“Fuck,” he moans, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck. “That’s it.”

Your rhythm isn’t perfect, but he figures maybe the best way to teach is by example, so he reaches down to hold your head in both hands as his hips start to kick forward.

“Let me use you, baby,” Hoseok breathes, and he didn’t really mean to say it out loud, but the noise you make around his dick is everything he needs to hear.

Another low moan rips through him at the sight of you, his little virgin down on her knees and just fucking taking it, and he picks up the pace, deliberately fucks into your mouth like he wants to mold your tongue in the shape of him.

“Already a slut for this cock, huh?”

A crease notches between Hoseok’s brows. His eyes drink you in as his hips roll: the willing gape of your mouth, the flutter of your lashes, the thick spit gloss spilling from the seal of your lips.

And then his gaze tracks lower, and– oh.

You’ve let your knees peel apart, just enough to hitch your skirt up the smooth skin of your thighs, and the hand that isn’t clung to Hoseok’s hip for balance has snaked its way between your legs. But you’re not touching yourself, not really. You’re just… grinding the flat of your palm into your underwear. Thin white cotton, plain and not meant to be sexy, not bought for anyone else to ever see. Somehow the hottest fucking thing.

Hoseok chokes on a whine because fuck, is this how you always get off? Too sweetly unsure to actually masturbate, just rutting your hot little pussy against your hand, a plushie, the corner of your bed.

Ashamed of the pleasure and chasing it anyway.

The thought is dizzying, distractingly so, and he miscalculates a thrust, feels the head of his cock scrape the back of your throat and everything clench tight at the intrusion.

He pulls out with a gasp to give you a second, but even the friction of that quick drag is enough to tip him over the edge, and then his hand is mindlessly tugging at his wet shaft because he needs to come so fucking bad.

And then he does, he is, he’s coming, sticky thick ropes of it leaking from the head of his dick before he can even warn you. All that he manages is another groan as he paints you, white streaks splattering over your cheeks, down your neck, a little in your hair; making a mess of you.

To Hoseok’s surprise, you don’t react with disgust or even shock. Instead a soft moan slips through your spit-slicked lips, and your hips buck harder against your palm, and he can’t hold back another fucking second.

He’s already on the floor, and maybe it’s too rough, the way he drags your hips toward him until you’re flat on your back, but he can’t not do it. Can’t not shove your legs open to bury his face between your thighs, can’t not lick up the already soaked-through seat of your panties and gasp against it at the raw taste of you.

And he’s the first to ever have it.

It doesn’t take much, just a few more drags of his tongue, rubbing firmly at the clothed seam of your virgin pussy until your hips shove up and your hands tangle in his hair as you come.

Hoseok can already tell he’ll play the moment back until he wears out the mental recording of it: your spine arching off the hardwood floor, his cum still dripping down your face as you moan like the whore he knew he could make of you.

After all, he’s a very good teacher.

#hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #hoseok x y/n #bts smut #bts x reader #anonymous #mbox 📮#jihope month 🌹#jihope month drabbles 💌

2K notes · View notes

mizu-nights · 4 months

Text

# another language

★ — chars ; toya , akito , rui

★ — notes ; HELLO NAGULAT AKO NUNG NAKITA KO TO FHDHFHFFH di ko na-expect na makakatanggap ako ng tagalog req... hindi ako masyadong magaling mag tagalog (native language ko...) PERO hopefully maiintindihan mo ito huhu ... also yes ofc feel free to ask any questions u want! (just not personal ones obv)

★ — notes (2) ; i had a fun time writing this, but i'm rlly rlly nervous abt posting it (╥﹏╥) if i accidentally made a mistake in a few parts, pls don't be harsh with me!

★ — notes (3) ; fem!reader implied for akito , otherwise none!

★ — languages used (keep in mind i used google translate for some + my tagalog isn't good) ; tagalog , italian , korean

★ — shout out to my bbg for helping out with akito's part (she doesn't follow this blog and i hope it stays that way)

★ — requested by ; anon

★ aoyagi toya — tagalog :

oh, he's so confused. of course he knows that you're speaking in another language, yet he doesn't know what you're saying...

so, naturally, he wonders what you're talking about when he accidentally overhears you in a call with your friend one day.

"ang pogi si toya... like jusko sobrang sweet niya sakin baka magka diabetes ako." (rough tl: toya is so handsome... like oh my god he's so sweet to me i might get diabetes.)

... he understood about... 3 words—'toya', 'sweet' and 'diabetes'. and now he's extra puzzled.

toya asked you about it the next day since he doesn't want any misunderstandings between the both of you. which led to you becoming a rather shy mess while explaining what you were talking about.

"oh... i see."

despite the dry response, you could see toya's face lightening up once he realized that you were actually gushing about him, just in a language that he didn't understand.

he definitely researched some cute endearments that night, so don't be surprised if he randomly calls you names like 'mahal' or 'sinta' from now on.

★ shinonome akito — italian:

akito got the idea over time that you were talking affectionately about him in another language, but he would prefer if you admit it yourself. mostly just to tease you, honestly.

with that in mind, he's still a bit surprised when you tell him you love him in another language.

"...ti amo tanto." (rough tl: i love you so much)

"huh?"

"nothing!"

but with how cute and funny his reactions are, how can you stop? his confused look always looks so charming whenever you compliment him.

"sei così carino, sai?" (rough tl: you're so cute, you know?)

"okay, seriously, i don't understand a single thing..."

eventually, he gets tired of your teasing and just translates what you're saying when you're gone. prepare to be surprised with random compliments in your own language by your boyfriend.

"sei la ragazza... più carina che abbia... mai visto..?" (rough tl: you're the prettiest girl i've ever seen)

... even if it could use some work.

★ kamishiro rui — korean :

rui is a sneaky one, so you always make sure to gush about him whenever he's actually away, or if he's asleep.

and in this situation, you thought he was asleep. keyword: thought.

unsurprisingly, it seems like your boyfriend stayed up a bit later tonight to finish an invention. you chuckled softly, finding him endearing as you covered him up with a blanket.

"...너 정말 귀엽다. 잘 자고 있길 바래, 내 사랑." (rough tl: you're so cute. i hope you sleep well, my love.)

rui was actually awake, though. of course, he couldn't understand a thing you said, but that only added to his list of robots to make.

so, weeks passed by after that incident. and something similar happened again, only this time, rui was prepared.

he rested his head on the desk, setting his brand new translator bot nearby to record what you say.

and, to say the least, his experiment did not disappoint! he's never going to let you live this down, either.

just to mess with you a bit, and to let you know he knows about your little secret now, he went up to you the next day, whispering something into your ear.

"내가 귀엽다고 생각해? 네가 더 귀여워." (rough tl: you think i'm cute? you're cuter)

you were so surprised, it's like he took your breath away. you give him a look that basically yells out, 'you know!?' and rui simply nods, with that well-known cat-like smile of his.

#toya aoyagi #toya aoyagi x reader #akito shinonome #akito shinonome x reader #rui kamishiro #rui kamishiro x reader #project sekai x reader #pjsk x reader #project sekai #pjsk #★ — you are my literature

260 notes · View notes

tiredmamaissy · 1 year

Note

Hiiiii - just wanted to say I love love love your writing 💗💗 and i have a req but idk if you’re still taking requests if you are yayy!! if not bloop 😪 Anyways you could make this multiple parts if you wanted to build on the storyline more but could you do a Neteyam or Aonung (I cant decide - both extremely beautiful in their own way) x reader. Maybe where Neteyam and y/n have always been close and like eachother but haven’t made it official or clear they want to be mates. All the other girls in the village desperately want Neteyam for themselves (obvi) and a few of them heavily flirt with him in which he is oblivious to making y/n jealous. So she plays hard to get and makes him jealous with Aonung or something. Idk but it can end in some FILTHY smut and then fluff 🤭🤭🤭 ok that’s my req. Thank you and keep up the amazing work!!!😁😁😁❤️

Eyes for You

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Characters: Neteyam Sully (20) x Metkayina reader y/n (19) x Ao’nung (20)

Warnings: nsfw, heavy smut, fluff, first-time, foreplay, oral sex, rut cycle, jealous/protective Neteyam, consent king neteyam, profanity Word count: 6.5k (sorry y’all, I have a problem with overwriting.)

Authors note: I tried to write this while I was experiencing some writers block + burn out, so this honestly isn’t my best work. Regardless, I hope this is okay, anon, and enjoy <3. Also, I’m feeling really inspired to write something that is unrequested. I’ll be temporarily closing my requests to that I can work through my list of requests thus far (even the ones sent in before this post went up), to the best of my abilities :)

Tags: @jakexneytiri (first part is the bow scene you requested)

Synopsis: You and Neteyam like each other but haven’t made it official. You’re promised to Ao’nung even though you don’t like him in that way. You see Neteyam with another girl, and flirt with Ao’nung to get back at him. Neteyam intervenes and makes you his.

Intro: There isn’t a single girl in the village of Awa’atlu that doesn’t have a strong liking towards Neteyam. This includes you. As soon as Neteyam approached the shore with his hands out in the air, he caught your eye. You came out from behind your promised mate, Ao’nung, and examined the na’vi thoroughly. His tail was thin, just like the rest of his body, and he had darker skin with golden eyes. It was a beautiful sight, and he seemed to think so too, as his face lit up immediately when he first laid eyes on you. Since then, you guys spend most of your time together, as you teach him and his siblings everything they need to know about the reef people. He has even been teaching you his ways too, riding his ikran and learning how to use a bow and arrow. In the silent moments where it’s just you two, the tension is unspoken, and off the charts.

----

“Hold here, tighter.” He taps your elbow and repositions your grip on the taut string.

He’s so close behind you that you can feel his soft breaths on your shoulder. Each warm, pant that blows against your skin makes your bioluminescence glow, and your ears perk up. You simply can’t deny the way he makes you feel. You glance at him quickly, catching the sight of his serious gaze. You hold the string of the bow tighter and adjust your elbow.

“I can hear your heartbeat.” He whispers next to your ear. “Relax a bit, y/n.” He slides hand down the side of your waist, fixing your stance.

“Likewise.” You whisper back, hearing his heart thumping, too.

He leans into your shoulder, his braids barely brushing against your skin, and loosens your grip on your bow. How could you relax when he’s doing this to you? Does he even know what he’s doing? You turn to look at him, searching for any hint of innocence in his eyes.

He pulls back slightly, looking deeply into your eyes. “You know, it helps if you focus on the target, y/n.” he breathes, placing the tip of his index finger under your chin, using it to turn your head towards the target. It feels like your stomach is fluttering, all from his simple touch. You swallow your spit.

He must know what he’s doing, right?

You snap your head back to him, to see him smiling at you, glancing down at your lips. Those flutters in your stomach make their way up to your chest, quickening your heartbeat even more. His smile slowly disappears the more his heavy eyes stare at your lips, and you find yourself staring at his, too. Maybe it’s in your head, but it feels like the distance between you two is shrinking.

You feel his breath on your cheek now, causing your gaze to drop to your feet, and then shoot back up at the target. You clear your throat and reposition your arms. His hand lets go of your waist when he fixes his stance, slightly backing away from you.

He clears his throat, too. “Erm – good.” He looks at the target. “Now, release” he whispers, tapping his finger against your elbow again.

Your arrow completely misses the target. You laugh together, making eye contact again – only to drop your smiles when you feel the tension budding in the air.

“Good try, y/n.” he smiles again, brushing your upper back.

“Thanks, but I’m pretty sure we both saw it miss the target completely.” You laugh, covering your mouth.

He faces turns serious and takes your hand off your face. “You know I don’t like it when you cover your face when you laugh.” He says, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink.

You can’t help but smile and stare at him, feeling the warmth in your chest spread throughout your body. “We should go back before our parents get upset.” You whisper, focusing on his lips.

He focuses on your lips, too. “We should. Dad might actually skin me.”

You look down from his lips, landing your stare on his bare, muscular chest. “Well, mine’ll skin you, too if you don’t get me back before the eclipse.” You laugh, using your hands to nudge him towards his ikran.

Though his body moves, his eyes remain locked onto your face.

“...and so would Ao’nung.” You tease, knowing that he hates hearing the name.

He rolls his eyes and walks swiftly to his resting ikran. “Get on, mermaid.”

You giggle, grabbing his hand and hopping on his ikran, seating yourself in front of him. After bonding with his banshee, he takes off, soaring quickly through the air. It’s almost like what happened ten minutes ago happens all over again, with his loud, hot breath on your shoulders, and his hand brushing against your waist – holding onto his ikran.

His warm chest presses lightly against your back, as he steadies his ikran that makes a sharp turn towards the shore. Your heartbeat speeds up. It never used to feel this way – this intense. Sure, being close to him made you nervous, but never this nervous. The flutters in your stomach turn into knots, and it’s almost like he could sense it.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, leaning into your shoulder.

“Yeah. Why?” you ask breathlessly.

“Your heartbeat. It is fast again.” He states, sounding a little worried.

“Oh, that.” you gulp quietly, “I guess I’m just a little motion sick”. You lie, looking down at your hands gripping the seat beneath you.

Immediately the ikran slows down, stabilizing itself even more. His free hand slides over your waist, onto the flat of your belly, and pushes you back into him.

“I’m sorry. Just relax and breathe, you’ll feel better soon.” He whispers into your ear, brushing his cheek against your hair. “Close your eyes.”

You melt into him and allow your heavy eyes to rest. The rest of the flight home is silent and so, so comfortable, that you don’t even realize that you’ve fallen asleep. You wake up to the eclipse occurring, looking down at the glowing arms wrapped around your waist. Not only are you snuggled into his chest, but he is also leaning into you, too.

You take a sharp breath and sit up quickly, looking around you to see exactly where you are. You’ve landed in the sand, right outside of your marui pod. You turn around to see his glowing amber eyes watching you, with a serious expression on his face, as if he were trying to restrain himself in some way.

“Hi.” You smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Sorry I fell asleep; you should’ve woken me up.”

“I did not want to disturb you. You looked...” the corners of his lips slightly curl upwards, “comfortable.” He lies, realizing it would be creepy to say that ‘you look beautiful even when you’re sleeping’.

The sound of your father’s voice breaks the growing tension.

“Y/n. I told you to come back before eclipse!” Your father shoots Neteyam a deadly look, storming towards you. Just as you’re about to explain, Neteyam speaks up for you.

“We got here before eclipse, sir. She felt sick and fell asleep. I didn’t want to wake her. I take full responsibility. I’m sorry, sir.” He bows his head at the chief warrior.

Your father shakes his head and comes to help you down his ikran. He drags you back home and you look back at Neteyam, who is waving goodbye to you, pursing his lips.

----

“You know I do not like you hanging out with that forest boy. You are promised to the son of Olo’eyktan, Ao’nung. Do not bring shame to this family.” Your father scolds you, resting his hand on your shoulder.

You shrug him off and walk away to the Marui pod. “You know I do not want Ao’nung, father. I don’t like him in that way.” You turn around, fuelled with anger. “Why must you force me?” you look at him through teary eyes.

“Not another word, daughter.” He says sternly, looking you directly in the eye.

You leave and go to bed, crying yourself to sleep.

----

“This will be your second rut without a mate, Neteyam.” Neytiri states firmly. “Why must you refuse all the beautiful girls that offer themselves to you? I will not continue to see my son suffer.”

“Mother.” He looks at his feet. “I don’t want anyone but y/n. I thought I made this clear. I will continue to spend my ruts alone until she is ready.” Neteyam argues, shaking his head. “I don’t care how painful they become.”

“I will be speaking to your father about your betrothment with Tsireya.” She spits, getting up to find Jake.

“Mother! Please.” Neteyam snaps, standing up behind her.

“Agh!” she grabs at the air in front of his eyes, causing him to jerk his head back. “It is final.”

----

You disconnect your queue from your ilu and make your way back to the shore. You enjoy your early morning swims, as the water is usually still warm by this time. You see Ao’nung standing at the shore, his hands crossed over his chest, peering at you through his brows (or what would be brows, lol). Ao’nung smirks as you walk on the shore in his direction.

He makes his way over to you, extending his hands outwards, as if he were asking for a hug. “My beautiful mate. I love watching you come out of the water.”

You look down at your feet as you walk past him, trying to avoid eye contact. “Thank you, Ao’nung, but we are not mated.” You mutter.

Ao’nung shouts after you as you walk away. “Agh. I know, I know. We will be soon, my love. No need to be so short with me!”

He knows that you don’t feel the same way about him, yet he continues his feeble attempts at winning your heart daily. Your heart has already chosen Neteyam, and has no space left for Ao’nung, no matter how handsome he may be. You walk up to the grassy part of the mangroves, lifting your head up to see a sight you wish you didn’t.

Neteyam is in front of you, leaning against the large roots of the mangroves, talking to Tsireya, the Olo’eyktan’s daughter. Her beauty is stunning – absolutely breath taking. You could see that he feels this way too just from the way he gazes down at her with the biggest smile on his face. She, too, is smiling with him, brushing against his bicep with her hand.

Jealousy consumes you. The feeling is like a spear to the heart – deep and painful. The pain radiates off your chest, up to your face, reddening it as your eyes sting, pooling with tears. You stand there, frozen in time, just taking in the sight before you. Neteyam laughs, and shakes his head, as if he were telling her ‘no’ to something.

He catches a glimpse of you in his peripheral vision, and does a double take, looking directly at you. When his gaze meets yours and he realizes that your eyes are glossy from tears, his smile falls off his face. You look away, and turn around quickly, hoping that he didn’t see your tearful eyes. You walk hastily back to Ao’nung, with the image of him laughing with the prettiest girl in the village replaying in your head.

“Hey, pretty.” Ao’nung says huskily.

You force a smile on your face. “Sorry if I came off as rude a while ago. I’m not feeling great.” You lie.

He takes a few steps towards you, with concern written all over his face. “What is wrong?”

You didn’t want to tell him the truth – that you were feeling jealous about his sister of all people. “I’m just sore. The water was rough this morning.” You look up at him, meeting his blue-eyed gaze, seeing that he looks worried. “It’s just my back. I’m alright. Really.” You smile at him, thanking him silently for being so concerned.

Unbeknownst to you, Neteyam had made his way over to you the moment he laid eyes on you. He stood at the grassy area by the mangroves, watching the interaction between you and your fated mate intently. Ao’nung inches closer to your face and rests his hand on your waist.

“Crying over a sore back? It must be bad.” He moves swiftly behind you. “You do know my mother is Tsahik, yes? She has taught me quite a bit.” He places his other hand on your upper back. “Where does it hurt the most?”

You feel uncomfortable with his touches and turn around to face him, pulling away from his advances. You see Neteyam in your peripheral vision, seething from jealousy and anger, watching the two of you closely. (side eye, lol)

Is he jealous?

The thought of you making him jealous, too, makes you feel better, as bad as it sounds. You work with the situation, flipping it to your advantage. You focus back on Ao’nung, and smile at him.

“Thank you, Ao’nung.” You rub his bicep, sending Neteyam over the edge. “But I’m really alright.”

Ao’nung arches a brow and looks down at your hand rubbing his bicep. He looks up back up at you and grins, wrapping his hand around your waist. “Took you long enough to come around, my mate.” He pulls you into him, leaning in, staring at your lips.

Its only now dawning on you what you just got yourself into. You feel uncomfortable – on edge. You feel like running away, but you’re frozen, watching him inch in closer to you. Neteyam watches you two get closer, feeling pangs of pain in his chest. He really didn’t think you would choose him, even if you guys were promised to each other. He always knew deep down that there was something between the two of you, it just wasn’t official.

But he couldn’t stop you. He would never come between you and what you want. All he can do is accept it for what it is, no matter how much anger he’s feeling. If you choose Ao’nung, then so be it. His only concern is your happiness, and for it to be your choice. He drops his gaze to his feet, not being able to stand the sight.

It feels wrong, very wrong. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want Ao’nung, you want Neteyam. You break eye contact with Ao’nung, and finally put your hands against his chest, pushing him away from you.

“Wait, Ao’nung. I’m sorry. I, I-” You stutter, turning your head to avoid his gaze and lips. “I’m still not ready, yet.” Neteyam hears this, and his ears perk up as his head snaps back to you.

“Don’t back out on me now, pretty girl.” He cups your cheek and pulls your face in his line of sight.

“Stop, Ao’nung.” You pull your face out of his hand and take a step back, as your eyes start to well up with tears again.

“Y/n. You are promised to me.” Ao’nung says sternly. “How long are you going to take? My rut is coming soon.” He pulls you back into him by your waist, causing you to fall into his chest.

Neteyam doesn’t waste another second and rushes in, braids swinging in his face, and pushes Ao’nung away from you. “You heard what she said.” He growls, towering over Ao’nung.

You hide behind Neteyam, backing away from them both. They’re face to face, staring each other down, waiting to see who will back down first.

Two sons of Olo’eyktan challenging one another? Over me?

“Leave Neteyam. This does not concern you.” Ao’nung looks him up and down.

“No. Back. Off. Now.” he steps towards him, poking Ao’nung’s chest with his finger.

Ao’nung scoffs, shaking his head. “She is promised to me.” He steps towards him. “Mine.”

You’d never seen Neteyam this angry before. You could see the rage in his body language, he looks like an akula (shark-like animal) ready to strike.

“She is promised to nobody. She chooses who she wants.” He snarls, flashing his fangs.

Ao’nung looks behind Neteyam, directly in your eyes. He squints them, looking from you, to Neteyam, realizing that you both have feelings for each other and the ‘choice’ he speaks of is between him and Neteyam. Ao’nungs face relaxes, knowing this will just end in a fight - a fight that makes no sense. He takes a step back putting his hands in the air.

“Smart choice.” Neteyam growls. He turns around to look at you, his eyes were a deep gold, something you’ve never seen before. He shakes his head, as if he were disappointed in you and grabs you by the hand, leading you towards a hidden cave deep in the roots of the mangroves.

----

“What were you thinking?” He asks with his back turned to you, not being able to look you in the face.

“What were you thinking?” You shout back, still upset with him.

He turns around, walking towards you quickly, towering over you now. You look up at him, feeling small and feeble compared to his size.

“What? Don’t think I could’ve taken him?” he scoffs, shaking his head.

“I’m not talking about that, skxwang (idiot). I’m talking about you being all lovey-dovey with his sister.” You see his expression change; his gaze softens, and he pulls back. “Yeah, I saw you.” You cross your arms and turn around.

He laughs, loudly, finally understanding the entire situation. You’re both upset about the same thing.

“What’s so fucking funny?” you mumble, back still turned to him.

“We are upset about the same thing.” He slides his hand down your arm, and holds your hand, pulling you towards him.

You turn around, looking him in the eyes. “What?”

“You are jealous of Tsireya, and I am jealous of Ao’nung. What does that tell you?” he smiles, taking your other hand into his.

You roll your eyes and pull away from him. “I don’t even like Ao’nung, you know this. But Tsireya... She is the prettiest girl in the village, why wouldn’t you want her?”

“Y/n... That is not even true.” he scoffs, knowing you’re the most beautiful girl on pandora, “...and it is not what you think.” He grabs your hand again, pulling you into him. “Tsireya and I were just having a conversation.”

“Oh, yeah? A conversation... with her touching your arm like that? Come on.” You hit his hand away.

“Yes. We were making this stupid situation that we are in into a joke. My parents, they are trying to promise me to her, which is stupid because I already explained to them that I have eyes for someone else. And she – she even confessed to me that she has eyes for Lo’ak. It is really nothing like that.” He shakes his head, backing away to give you the space you want.

Your glossy eyes peer up at him, searching for the sincerity in his eyes. “Who?” you mutter.

He looks at you, confused. “Who?”

“Who do you have eyes for?” you ask, feeling the same stabbing feeling in your heart.

“Is it not obvious, y/n?” He whispers, stepping towards you. “I only have eyes for you.” he whispers, taking your hands into his.

Hearing these words make your heart flicker in your chest. You can’t help but smile, the swell of your cheeks finally pushing a tear out of your eye.

“I only have eyes for you, too.” You whisper, sliding your hands up his arms.

You knew your father would be upset if he found out what you were about to do, but you didn’t care. Neteyam didn’t care either, it’s time to break the unspoken tension between the two of you. Neteyam leans into you, his gaze fixed on your lips. You find your body responding to him, tilting your head upwards to meet the gaze of the man in front of you.

“Can I kiss you?” Neteyam asks, wrapping his hands around your waist.

“Please.” You breathe, before feeling his lips crash into yours, reeking of desperation.

He kisses you passionately, but in an inexperienced way. His hands are all over your body, trying to touch every inch of you. He backs you up against the rocky wall, and moves his feverish kisses down your neck, to your collarbones. Your hands make their way to his chest, where they slide down to his stomach, feeling every dip of his muscular physique.

“You are so beautiful, y/n.” He mumbles in between kisses, looking up at you with dark amber eyes.

You giggle, feeling shy from his comment. “Why are your eyes different?” you ask, trying to change the topic.

He kisses the bone between your breasts, inhaling your natural scent. “What do you mean?” he mumbles into your chest.

You feel your nipples harden, and shivers run down your back. “Your eyes, they are darker than usual.”

“Oh, sorry.” He pulls back, blinking rapidly, hoping they’ll change back to their original colour. “My rut is coming in a week.” He nestles back into your chest, lingering there, waiting for your consent.

The thought of him in rut, unable to control his insatiable urges, makes your undergarments wet. You nudge his head over to your left breast, while your free hand unties the knot of your top. Both your movements are hurried, eager for each other’s touches. He takes your nipple into his mouth and sucks on it rhythmically, blowing hot breaths through his nostrils onto your breast.

“Mmnh, feels so good.” You moan softly. He bites your nipple gently. “Neteyam!” You gasp, pulling his head even closer into you.

The sound of you moaning his name makes him impatient, sucking even harder at your nipple, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. His big golden eyes stare up at you, like you’re something to be devoured. He unlatches from your nipple and kisses you again, his tongue exploring your mouth and intertwining with your tongue.

He kneads your breast with one hand and uses the other to play with the strap of your loincloth. You could feel his burning desire for you in his movements; he’s ready to take you right here. He shoves his knee between your legs, applying pressure to your cunt. You moan into his mouth and can’t resist humping at his leg.

“Shit.” He groans, applying even more pressure for you to hump at. “I like when you use me like that.”

You laugh between heavy breaths, feeling your slick wet his thigh. He notices, too. “Fuck, you’re that wet already?” he breathes, smiling with raised brows.

He kisses you again, like he can’t get enough of your touch. He kicks your legs open and lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his hips. He’s pinning you against the wall, pushing his pelvis into yours. You feel the imprint of his cock through his loincloth, pressing against your hot, wet slit. It feels so thick, and warm, bulging against you, throbbing for some attention.

The friction against your clit feels amazing, like the heat from your cunt is making its way through the rest of your body in waves. The pressure in your chest builds to the point where you must release it through loud moans, and pants. All you can do is bury your face into the crook of his neck while he pins you to the wall and bucks his hips into you.

“Neteyam... it’s so thick.” You whisper shyly, now smelling his musky scent. “...and you smell so good.”

Neteyam is too busy willing himself to be gentle with his thrusts to listen to what you’re saying. He wants to take you right here, right now – to shove his cock inside of you in one thrust and fuck you carelessly for even looking at Ao’nung.

“Why did you touch Ao’nung like that? You should only be touching me like that.” he thrusts hard against your cunt.

You can feel how stiff his cock is, rutting into your plump cunt like that, eager for some release.

“Yeah? And you should only be touching me like this.” You take his hand and press it firming against your breast.

He kneads your breast and kisses you roughly, breathing hard through his nose. All the tension that has been building since his arrival to your village is finally coming to a head. You grab his face and melt even further into his kiss, squeezing your legs that wrap around his hips, trying to push him harder against you.

He pulls away from the kiss, catching his breath. “Can I taste you here?” he pants, looking down at your sticky pelvises rubbing against each other.

“Ugh... yes, Nete.” You whimper, desperate for your mate’s touches.

He puts you down and starts kissing your neck, making his way down your chest once more. You will yourself to stand on your shaky legs, weak from holding onto him so tightly. He kisses your stomach, paying extra attention to your belly button with his tongue. The sensation is so erotic, feeling him inch his way down to your most vulnerable part. He’s breathing in deeply, trying to savour the scent of your cunt.

He kneels before you, looking up at you with big golden saucers for eyes, fiddling with the straps of your loincloth, asking you silently if he can take it off. You look down at him and nod your head, using your hand to try pull down your undergarments. As soon as he gets your consent, he buries his nose into your hips, and slides his fingers underneath the cloth, slowly pulling it down your legs.

He’s grunting into your soft flesh, kissing your thighs and your plump pussy lips. He gently opens your trembling legs, that struggle to remain standing, and looks up at you while he uses his tongue to part your lips. The flavour of your cunt is so sweet – so enticing, that he closes his eyes to fully immerse himself in the experience of eating you out, swallowing the slick that pools in his cheeks.

Although he is inexperienced, he follows his body’s commands, lapping at the sensitive nub at the top of your slit. He feels your body jolt from pleasure, telling him that he’s just found your sweet spot. He sucks lightly at your clit, opening his mouth and licking you from your hole up to your pearl, engulfing it with his hot mouth. He uses his thumbs to spread your pussy lips apart as he makes out with your cunt, looking back up at you.

The sensation is too good, you feel like your legs are going to give out any second. Your hips thrust into his face on their own, already chasing your orgasm. Covering your mouth with your hand, you stop yourself from letting loose the loud moans that make their way up your throat. Your free hand explores the wall you lean against, trying to find something to hold on to. Neteyam notices this and takes your hand, placing it on his head. You weave your fingers through his braids and hold on tightly, as he eats your cunt hungrily.

Not being able to hold back your moans anymore, you drop your hand from your mouth and place it on his head. You let your head dip back as you let loose lengthy mewls into the air as you experience your intense climax. You look down to see Neteyam touching himself, rubbing his bulge with his hand as he laps at your sopping cunt. You want nothing more than to share your next climax with him.

“Fuck... I wanna cum with you, ‘teyam.” You moan breathlessly, legs trembling uncontrollably as you try to push away his head.

He peers up at you, gulping your juices loudly before pulling away from your throbbing cunt. He stands quickly, meeting his lips with yours, having you taste your own cum. He kisses you frantically, still touching himself.

“Mine to touch.” You slap away his hand and grab his growing bulge.

He moans at your aggressive advances. You pull down his loincloth in a hurry, to hear the slap of his cock against his belly. You look down to see his monstrous cock, oozing beads of precum out of its pink, mushroom-like head. His slick is shiny, glistening in the light that reflects against the water outside of the cave. It looks so tempting.

“I want to taste you, too.” You announce, quickly dropping to your knees.

His warm, rock-hard cock brushes against your cheek. You take a deep breath and hold it to savour his musky scent. You release your hot breath through your nose, as you rub your closed mouth up and down against his shaft. The heat of your breath against his sensitive, throbbing cock sends his head back in frustration – he’s eager for you to take him in your mouth. You sense his desperation, and lick the tip of his cock, swirling your tongue around his cockhead. He bucks his hips suddenly, sliding his cock over your closed eye.

You let out a breathy laugh. “Want to fuck my face that badly?” You lick his cock from the base of his shaft, back up to his tip and take him into your mouth.

His cock is so thick and girthy that it stings the corners of your mouth when he thrusts inside down your mouth. He’s pressing his hands firmly against the rocky wall behind you, trying to prevent himself from ramming his entire length down your slippery throat. You suck harshly, paying attention to his swollen cockhead as you bob your head up and down.

“F-fuck.” He groans, dropping his head, feeling overstimulated “I need to be inside you.” He grips you by the hair and pulls you off his cock, standing you up. He’s panting like a maniac, backing you up against wall yet again, kissing you hungrily.

“So, fuck me, Neteyam.” You grunt into his mouth, reaching down to stroke his swollen cock.

“Shit. Spread your legs for me.” He moans into your mouth between feverish kisses.

You obey him, opening your legs as wide as you can whilst standing up. His fingers rub against your slit, coating themselves with your glossy slick. You whine against his fingers, trying to grasp them with the walls of your cunt. He rams two fingers inside you, scissoring them to stretch your hole out enough for his cock.

“Nghh, Neteyam... make me yours.” You pant, trying to grind into his fingers. “Just put it in, already” you whine, trying to replace his fingers with his cock.

“Patience, my love.” He pants, trying to be gentle with you. “It is your first time, no? You must be stretched.” He hums, inserting his third digit inside of you.

You feel like you’re losing it, you just need his cock inside of you. “Please. I need this.” You beg, gripping his member.

His hand is pressing against the wall; his wrist brushing against your neck as he looks deeply into your eyes – forehead to forehead. He searches your eyes for your bluff, to be met with your serious glare. He’s so eager to fuck you that he can’t even hold himself back anymore to stretch you out properly.

“Fuck, y/n.” he exhales, moving his hand from your slit and turning you around, pressing you roughly against the wall.

Your tail sways wildly from side to side, tickling his throbbing cock, as you look behind you at your soon-to-be mate. You see him reach for his queue, running his hand along its length before bringing it forward. Knots form in your stomach knowing that he’s about to make the bond with you. He takes his hand off your head and reaches for your queue, bringing it towards his.

He pauses, waiting for your word – for your consent.

“Yes, Neteyam. Do it.” You say through shaky breaths, feeling your slick drip down your legs from the thought of him being all yours. You knew this would upset many people close to you, but you didn’t care.

He watches closely as your tendrils wrap around each other, morphing together to form a unified connection. Your eyes bulge and dilate as you both take a sharp breath, feeling your bodies and minds sync together. He looks down at you, and you look behind you to meet his gaze, knowing his every thought – knowing exactly how badly he wants you.

You’re panting at the mere thought of him ploughing into your cunt. He presses you against the wall with his body, pushing his bulge against your slit, coating it with your thick nectar. He leans into your ear, brushing his lips against it, just taking in the feeling of his mate. You feel him grip his cock and rub the tip against your hole. You feel his restraint – his struggle to fight the urge to bury himself inside you.

Please... hurry. You pant, pushing yourself back onto him.

Say the words, y/n. Use your voice.

“Fuck me.” You moan breathlessly, feeling his hot breath against the back of your neck. “Please.” you whisper.

“Good girl.” he smiles into your shoulder, lifting one of your legs up in the air, spreading you wide enough to accommodate him.

He slides the tip in slowly, giving you time to adjust to his thickness. It feels as if you’re overly full – stuffed to the brim with Neteyam’s huge cock, and it isn’t even half way in yet. You whimper loudly, from the mixture of pain and pleasure of taking something this massive inside of you. Neteyam cups your mouth with his hand, muffling your loud, lewd noises.

“Shhh... Mawey. You don’t want your father hearing us, do you?” he growls into your neck, slipping into his hazy fog of desperation. Your whimpers quiet down into soft mewls as your cunt stretches to the sheer girth of his cock. He praises you by planting soft wet kisses on the nape of your neck.

“That’s a good girl.” He groans into your neck, inhaling your natural scent. “You are taking me so well.” He looks down at the sight of his mate taking his cock for the first time, causing him to lose his control for a split second.

“Although, I would love to have Ao’nung hear this.” He rams his entire cock inside of your cunt in one swift thrust, getting the pain over with for you.

“Agh! Neteyam!” You yelp out a long, loud scream, feeling overstimulated from the mixture of sensations happening all at once.

Hearing his name roll of your tongue in such a lewd manner causes him to fall deeper into the haze he’s under. He’s breathing heavily into your shoulder, enduring the tightness of your cunt as it clenches around his entire length, willing himself not to pump in and out of you.

“Mmn’ you okay?” he mumbles, focusing on being as gentle as he possibly can with you.

“Sst. ‘ts too big, it stings, Nete!” you panic, frantically trying to accommodate to his size.

“Shh... I’m sorry, baby.” He kisses your neck while rubbing circles into your thighs, patiently waiting for you to get comfortable. “But you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this... wanting you.” he growls.

Flutters are felt in your stomach, yet again, making you want him even more. “Me too, Nete... I’ve wanted you from the moment I first lay eyes on you.” You say between shaky breaths. “You can move now.” You moan, feeling more pleasure than pain as you back yourself up on him.

Those were the only words he needed to hear. He begins thrusting into you with no rhythm, grinding his cockhead against the hole of your cervix. He moves his hand in front of your body, tracing the dips of your stomach as he makes his way down to your swollen clit. He rubs circles into your wet pearl as he ruts relentlessly into you.

“Oh, good Eywa. Neteyam!” a new sensation washes over you as he fucks right into your sweet spot.

“Fuck. You’re so... *thrust* fucking small... *thrust* so tiny... *thrust* and tight.” he grunts into your ear, rolling your clit between his fingers. “Shit. You’re just sucking me in.”

He’s pounding into you at this point, unable to restrain himself from his territorial urges, fuelled by the jealousy of seeing Ao’nung touch you in that way. You could feel that his climax is near, as yours is nearing too. Your leg is shaking, about to give out at any moment. He takes notice of this, and lifts your other leg, causing you to slump back into him as he fucks you suspended in the air.

He weaves his arms under your knees and around the back of your head, spreading your legs as wide as they can possibly go. He is pounding into you so hard that you can feel his balls slap against your sore clit. His movements become erratic, like he’s going to cum inside of you any second. The heat is overwhelming, like you’re about to implode from the sheer force of his thrusts.

“Fuck! ‘m gonna cum!” you cry, finally feeling the burning sensation in your chest shoot down into your pelvis. Your walls clench tightly around his cock, on the verge of pulsating.

“Oh – oh fuck.” He huffs, quickly climbing to his peak. “Moan my name. Tell me who you are really promised to.” he groans, licking the dip of your shoulder.

“Ngh... Ne-neteyam! I’m promised to you! Oh – I’m cumming!” your cunt throbs quickly as you cum to the sound of his sweaty skin slapping against yours, burying his pulsating cock deep into your cunt.

“Gooood girl. Cum all over my cock” he grunts into your ear, cumming inside of you. “Ughh... fuck.” he groans, looking down at his cock spurting its thick, heavy ropes of cum into your cunt.

He rests his head into your shoulder, desperately trying to calm down from his high. He’s panting hot breathes onto your clammy skin, already being consumed by his urges yet again. He uncontrollably bucks his hips into you, as you feel his low mewls vibrate into your shoulder. He’s whimpering from the overstimulation of his body rutting into you after just cumming.

“Y/n. You need to go.” He growls, suddenly pulling out of you and releasing your legs – causing you to fall to your knees, breaking tsaheylu. You turn your head around and look up at Neteyam to be met with reptilian-like, green eyes, peering down at you.

“Neteyam?” you pant breathlessly, already knowing what’s happening.

Your mate just went into rut.

#neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam smut #avatar way of water #avatar x you #avatar smut #lo'ak avatar #avatar #metkayina #rut cycles #neteyam fic #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x metkayina!reader

942 notes · View notes

vampiretendencies · 1 year

Text

request; getting lost in their eyes, with jj?

pairing; jj x fem!reader

warnings; fluff

authors note; reqs are open u can request from the list below for a blurb or send in a one shot, fic, imagines idea of your own !! obx release day is tomorrow, make sure you guys are prepping :p

other ways to say i love you prompt list

An reddish-orange hue painted your flesh— almost heavenly like.

The burning fire, beside you being the only light within reach— lit nearly two hours ago. Everyone clearing out to claim their separate sleeping areas in the the Chateau. Patio chairs sat empty, whilst you and JJ shared from the start. Sat straddling his lap, admiring the simplistic things that adorned eachothers skin.

This.

This was much more pleasant than sleep.

Absolutely, there were attacks from mosquitos here and there. But it didn’t beat the waves rushing onto the shore, or the competitive nature of Outer Banks.

Sometimes you found JJ’s gaze intimidating. As his beauty is incompatible with another, skin untouched and tanned just right. The cupids bow of his mouth carved out intricately, shaping his lips substantially. The way his jaw would clench and unclench just to take another sip of beer, and gulp it down just right.

Sensuous and celestial.

Eyes the most alluring shade of blue, merely wanting to melt into them any given chance.

He cherished that you looked at him so— feeling appreciated and appropriately loved.

That you wouldn’t use him up, and be gone to the next.

That you would stay right here, in this moment, with him and search for a lifetime in his orbs.

“So, so pretty J.”

You dragged out the ‘so’s’ on the tip of your tongue accentuating your words. You thumbed at either sides of his jaw whilst, his eyes light up even more from the compliment. Small definitions besides either of his eyes forming whilst he grinned from the compliment.

He took them with pride and he definitely let any compliment you gave him inflate his ego— but in every painfully good way.

You could get lost in his eyes and not find your way out— now, basically.

“Love ‘em.”

You went on again, he continuously scratched lightly with his fingertips to the skin of your back. Heat from behind you making sweat glisten, and stick your bodies closer together.

“Just don’t love ‘em more than me, okay baby?”

“No I love these eyes, because they’re yours.”

JJ almost choked on his spit, heart thumping and being pulled every which way inside of his chest. With every breath you take, his heart rate grows broader and louder with ease.

Growing more closer with the thought that him and his twin flame, staring back at him, couldn’t belong together more.

Set and satisfied with all he’s holding on to.

564 notes · View notes

j-eryewrites · 1 year

Text

Too good to be true

Anonymous Request: Maybe the reader is a university student and everyone around her is trying to woo her but they don't Sherlock is her boyfriend, so one day protective Sherlock appears and, shows them she's his.

MAIN MASTER LIST | REQS OPEN

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Jealous Sherlock, Major fluff, mentions of sex, Sherlock is in love with you. No use of y/n.

“Guys, I swear on my life,” you chuckled as your finger crossed over your heart, “I’m taken.”

Your friends rolled their eyes at your declaration.

“What?”

“Babes,” Lucy said. “You keep telling us about this guy, yet….” She looked around the bar that your friend group was drinking at. “I don’t see him.”

“He’s just…” You began.

“Married to his work. We know.” Miri said. She took a big swallow of her martini. “Well, I’m off to get another round.”

She quickly excused herself from the table and walked over to the bar.

You sighed. It wasn’t your’s or Sherlock’s fault that there was a new serial killer in town. This one seemed to evade your boyfriend’s and John’s attempts of catching him at every turn. You your friends. knew what stakes his job had, including late nights and missed opportunities to introduce him to

Lucy called your name. “You don’t have to keep lying just because all of us are taken. I promise, as your friends, we won’t judge you.”

To this, you rolled your eyes. When were your friends going to understand you were taken?

“Plus,” Lucy continued. “I’ve heard that Garreth has an eye for you.”

You snickered. “Garreth, the heartthrob of our year. I call bullshit.”

Lucy nudged you on the shoulder. “Is it bullshit that he’s been staring at you this entire time we’ve been here?” Lucy’s grey eyes peered behind your shoulder.

Quickly, you turned around and saw him: Garreth. His bright green eyes lit up the moment you saw him. You had to admit, he was attractive. He was tall, with curly red hair, and freckles all over his face. Not to mention, he was quite smart in all of his subjects. He flashed you a smile, one which you returned. It would have been rude not to, you thought.

“See!” Lucy exclaimed.

“See what?” Miri asked. Her hands were full as she juggled the new round of drinks.

“Garreth’s been checking out, our friend here,” Lucy explained.

“Again? He does that all the time. I swear to god that the man is in love with you,” Miri said in a teasing manner.

“Guys,” You said sternly. “I’m taken which means I have eyes for only one person.”

“Sure,” Lucy and Miri responded at the same time.

You took a shot. The fiery liquid traveled down your throat and spread warmth to your body.

“Look,” Miri said. She herself took a shot of alcohol. “If we haven’t met this…”

“Genius, tall, beautiful man of a boyfriend,” Lucy finished.

“Yeah that. If we haven’t met him by the end of the month. I’m setting you up on a date with Garreth,” Miri said sternly.

You groaned. Your finger pinched the bridge of your nose tightly. This was going to be a long night.

_________

It was a quarter after midnight when you walked into the doors of 221B. A bright light shone from on top of the stairs. The warm golden light could only mean one thing: Sherlock was awake.

You smiled softly at the thought of your boyfriend, as your feet sluggish in movement carried you up the stairs. Sherlock appeared in the doorway watching your climb. It was as if he knew you were coming from a block away. He probably did. Sherlock had a way with those types of things.

The first thing you did was envelope your boyfriend in a warm embrace. Something he gladly returned. The comfort you felt in his arms was unmatched: his heart beating underneath your ears as you rested your head against his chest, his soft hands cradling your lower back and hips pulling you taut to him, and how his head dipped to kiss the crown of your head. If you died right now, you were sure that heaven would be in Sherlock’s arms.

The two of you stood at the top of the stairs holding each other. Your bodies swayed back and forth in a slow dance. It had been a rough day, it seemed, for the both of you.

“Any luck with the case?” You inquired, pulling away from the hug.

Sherlock shook his head. “Not as much as I would have liked. We’ve narrowed down the possible location of the next murder, but that’s all. He seems to have avoided our every plot to catch him.”

“You’ll solve the case and catch him. I believe in you,” you comforted.

Sherlock smiled and whispered your name. “If only the world revolved around your belief in me, I’d have solved the case by now.”

Then Sherlock brought his lips to yours in a gentle manner. He was savoring the kiss. It was one of the only things he cherished. Your lips could bring him out of the grey haze he often found his mind in. He loved the feeling of you flushed against him. He loved you.

“Now,” he said with a hand on your lower back leading you into his flat, “mind telling me what’s on your mind.”

You sighed and shook your head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if it’s bothering you, darling.”

An electric wave shot down your spine. Even after months together, you still weren’t used to that nickname. The things you would do to have him whispering it in your ear like a prayer.

“You were supposed to meet my friends tonight, Sherlock.” You said.

“I know, but Lestrade found another body and…”

“The case is important and I understand, it’s just my friends don’t believe me.”

“Believe you?” Sherlock asked. His brow raised.

“They don’t think you’re…” Your voice grew quiet. “...real. They think I’m making you up.”

Sherlock reached out and laid his hands on your forearms, running them up and down in a comforting manner. He stepped closer. His piercing blue eyes are on you. You had his full attention.

“They gave me a vendetta. If they haven’t met you by the end of the month, they're going to set me up with Garreth.”

Sherlock’s jaw clenched. “Garreth? Who’s…”

You cut him off before he could finish. “Just a guy in my year. Apparently, he’s in love with me or something.” Your eyes lowered as you muttered those last words.

Sherlock’s hands stopped tracing your arms. You could hear Sherlock’s entire body grow tense and his breath becomes slow and calculated.

“They just need to meet me?”

You nodded, too embarrassed to say anything.

“I’ll meet your friends. Now tell me about Garreth, it seems I need to have a word with him.” Sherlock began.

You chuckled and pulled him down for a kiss to silence him.

Sherlock’s mind was made up as you kissed him. He’d let Garreth know you were his. He’d make your friends into believers. If there was any truth in this corrupted world, it would be that Sherlock loved you and that he was yours and you were his.

________

“Next class, I would have liked you all to have read chapters sixteen and seventeen,” your professor announced to the class. “These chapters are crucial for the discussion, so please come prepared. Class dismissed.”

It was as if a wave of vitality drowned the class. Students, who were moments before drooling onto the desks and their eyes closed, now shot to life. They stuffed their computers and textbooks into their backpacks.

As you gathered your things at your desk, you noticed a shadow fall over your figure. You peered up to glance at the person. It was Sherlock.

You looked around confused. “Why are you…”

“Thought I’d come to visit my girlfriend and take her out to lunch. Seemed to have a break from the case for a moment,” Sherlock replied. The corner of his eyes crinkled as a grin flashed across his face.

You couldn’t help but match his smile. It really was contagious. “Perfect. I know just the place to eat,” you said. “And it just so happens my friends are working there.”

There was a sparkle in Sherlock’s eye. “Perfect indeed.” He extended his elbow out to you. You linked your arm with his and led him to the cafe for lunch.

________

“Miri, the girl’s got three more days in the month,” Lucy said. “You can’t set her up on a date with Garreth.”

“Oh, and how much do you want to bet that her boyfriend will magically turn up in those three days,” Miri shot back. Lucy sighed in defeat. “That’s what I thought…I just worry about her. She needs to go and find her person. I care about her too much. Plus, Garreth is a big sweetheart and everything she’d ever want in a man.”

“I care about her to Miri, but…”

A bell rang from above the door. The sight left both Miri and Lucy’s eyes to bulge out of their heads. The two of them had to do a double take. Once they certified with their brains that what was in front of them was real, they couldn’t help but squeal.

There stood their best friend, you. What the real sight was the man linked to your arm. They ran through the description you had given them of the mysterious man.

He was tall, check.

He had a head of gorgeous dark curls, check.

Cheekbones that could cut, check.

Entrancing ocean blue eyes, check.

A smile that puts the greatest celebrities to shame, check.

A gentleman, check,

Absolutely and irrevocably in love with you, check, check, CHECK.

“It’s him!” Lucy and Miri whispered to each other.

“Hi, Luc and Miri,” you chirped. You lifted a hand and pointed to Sherlock. “This is my boyfriend, Sherlock.” The two women eyed you and Sherlock. They were doing a horrible job of hiding their excitement. “Sherlock, these are my best friends, Lucy and Miri.”

Immediately the two stuck out their hands to shake Sherlock’s.

“Damn, you have nice hands. Nice fingers as well,” Miri blurted. She sent you a wink to which your face flushed with embarrassment.

Sherlock chuckled unsure of what to say. “Nice to finally meet you two.” He flashed your friends an awkward grin. They couldn’t help but ogle at Sherlock.

You cleared your throat. “Can we order, or are you just going to stand there and stare at my boyfriend,” you teased.

Now it was your friend’s turn to be embarrassed.

“Right,” Lucy cried. “What can I get you two?”

The two of your ordered lunch and then found an open seat in the cafe. Sherlock sat with his back facing your friends, which allowed you the full view of their gawking. Miri kept winking and making sexual references with her fingers. Lucy just flashed you a thumbs-up before preparing your order.

“Sorry about my friends,” You whispered to Sherlock. The evidence on your cheeks let Sherlock know just how embarrassed you were.

“It’s alright,” he said in an attempt to soothe your embarrassment.

Again the bell above the door rang long and clear. In stepped Garreth. He had his backpack swung over his shoulder and a witty smile adorning his face.

“Afternoon, ladies!” He greeted Lucy and Miri.

“Hey there Garreth,” Miri replied as she winked at him.

Sherlock’s ears perked up. He turned to look at you. “Garreth?”

You looked over to the man who just entered the cafe and then back at Sherlock. Your boyfriend had a look on his face. A wave of butterflies was released into your stomach. Sherlock raised his brow up and had a smirk on his face.

As Garreth noticed your presence and uttered your name, Sherlock grabbed onto the collar of your shirt and yanked you to him. His lips met yours in a possessive kiss. It was strong and secure and much brasher than you were used to receiving from Sherlock in public. The man tended to stick to more subtle ways of showing others that you were his: a hand around your waist, his figure standing not far from yours, a glare to anyone who dare look your way as if their eyes didn’t deserve to see you in all your glory.

As Sherlock slipped his tongue into your mouth, dancing alongside yours, Lucy and Miri gasped. You could just imagine the look on their faces. You did tell them he was a good kisser after all and now they just got front-row seats to the show.

You had to pull back from Sherlock. Your breath was heavy as your lungs remembered what it was like to breathe. From the looks of it, Sherlock would have kept kissing you until he passed out and you’d let him. You let out a giggle seeing your friend’s amazed faces. Sherlock pecked your cheek lightly as a small reminder.

“Someone’s jealous…,” You giggled.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I’m just letting the world know what’s mine,” he said in a low voice only you could hear.

“Well, from what I could tell, you’ve only shown three people. If you want to show the whole world, you’ve got a lot of work to do,” you winked.

Sherlock smiled. “It’s a good thing I like kissing you among other things.” There was a suggestive look in his eyes.

You gasped slightly and hit him on the shoulder. “My friends are right behind you Sherlock.”

“I know.”

You rolled your eyes as Sherlock turned around and asked your friends to take lunch to go. He explained that he needed you for the afternoon. Lucy and Miri played along and quickly finished your order. They shoved in your hands and pushed you out the door whispering words of playful encouragement.

“You scored the lottery,” Lucy whispered to you.

You smiled and looked at Sherlock. You really did. Sherlock was everything you could ask for and more.

Once again, the two of you linked your arms together and scurried back to Baker Street. Your takeout left on the counter was forgotten. Unlike that afternoon, when Sherlock showed the world again and again that he was yours and you were his.

_____

Tag List: @bartokthealbinobat @astudyinlaura

Comment below is you would like to be added to the Sherlock Tag List!

_______

425 notes · View notes