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May I please ask for Jigen and Lupin headcanons regarding how they react to being referred to by their first names for the first time by a love interest?

Lupin / Jigen x S/O "First Names"

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

The headcanons, as you requested, your excellency.

Arsène Lupin III

Jigen had left for supplies to help settle you all in the abandoned, cobweb-infested, yet habitable attic apartment in Paris, insisting that downtime will be longer than usual this time.

You grab a broom and Lupin a wooden plank he had ripped out from the floor to complete his makeshift TV antenna.

He migrates to the rooftop after bidding you a temporary adieu.

"Don't go missing me too hard," he says as he retracts his lips from the back of your hand only to go in for another backhand smooch, gaudy as always.

"You get that antenna done or else what we'll be missing is the news." You tap his cheek fondly.

"Consider local television achieved, mon chou !"

Your work extended to dusk and you hadn't bothered to turn on the lights as cleaning the place shrouded the importance of a well-lit environment to move in.

Then suddenly you're on one knee, the other amply burrowed into the floor, caught between the narrow width of a hole the shape of a missing plank.

A searing pain in your leg alarms you.

"Lupin?" You call out several times, each one more desperate than the last. All you hear is the clattering of wood and light metal on concrete.

Pain and high temperature start to quell your composure, and your elbows begin to buckle, mostly out of frustration.

"Arsène!" You cry almost literally. That should be loud enough for him.

This is answered immediately and Lupin swings in through the open window, switching on the lights as he searches further into room.

He finds you hunching in on yourself by a doorway, half a leg missing to the floor.

Wait, that hole looks familiar. The size, the placement. How it reminded him - oh.

His apology was sheepish albeit grim, happening throughout your extraction process as he hooked his elbows under your arms and pressed his cheek against yours in hopes of something positive to come out of it.

He jolts at your pained whimper as you lay your eyes on your nasty scrape, pulsating, red, and dotted with debris from below.

"Don'tcha worry your pretty little head about it. I know more than my fair share of first aid. You're in good hands. You act as if you don't know me." He pretends to sound hurt, mixed with a great deal of concern.

Lupin does his job on you on the floor by the couch, swabbing away with an alcohol-dipped cotton ball.

He notices your absent stare and gently glides the cold fiber up along the side of you bare thigh. That gains him a reaction.

"What is it now, Lupin? Weren't you going to tell me about the hole you made?"

"Aw sweetums, I said I'm sorry." He begins dressing your wound.

"I know you are. Don't pull shit like that again."

"Yes, your highness.” He concedes with smile forlorn in nature. He does feel bad, you know.

He'd call himself an idiot, more times than what you would tolerate regularly, but you wouldn't know this was what he was telling himself. All of this was in his head.

He drapes a throw blanket over your naked legs and swipes his hand up and down your stomach, which prompts you to switch onto your side on the couch. Rain starts to pour.

"Arsène."

Lupin perks up at the name and cracks a small simper. "Yeah?" His hand rests on your waist.

"So this is the name you now choose to respond to? No wonder," you jest and he flails his hand at his chagrin.

"You've got it all wrong! Y/N, I'm soooorryyyyy." He sniffles theatrically and snuggles his head into your torso from his spot on the floor.

"Okay okay. You're forgiven! Get in here."

"You're an angel! Now, tell about how much you love me." He wedges himself into the space before you, grinning up to you expectantly.

"I love you so, so very much."

"Come again?"

"I love you, Arsène."

"Well, well, I'm liking the way that sounds."

Ruckus ensues, followed by rustling plastic bags and objects hitting the wooden floor. Don't forget the guttural accumulation of curses and wet splats.

"OI, LUPIN!" Jigen's back.

Call him by his first name in front of the others. He gets a kick out of the ludicrousness in their reactions.

He'll take it as the ultimate, intimate move by you. Nothing sensual or suggestive.

He'll be willing to forget about his life of crime at the sound of you calling him by this name and will become more prone to mundane discussions.

Your relationship, your plans, what everyone will be eating once at home, what brand of shampoo should everyone share. In how many days should he switch to a new pair of pajamas. The list goes on. Not a breath of future jobs once his first name is used.

His pride in having international notoriety and mastery in the art of theft seem to have nothing against the joy of forgetting about legacy once in a while, since his surname says it all.

You help him pursue his simpler fantasies by giving back to him as he does you.

In short, he becomes more attuned to domesticity and would participate in all of it if you’d let him. You made him feel like a common man, and to be that alongside you doesn’t seem all that bad.

Jigen Daisuke

The supply errand you went on took a turn for the worst. Just a little past dusk, rain had begun to pour. The Parisians on the streets start huddling through doors to escape the downpour.

Jigen, with the heavier bags in his hands, makes a run for the nearest storefront awning to shield from the elements. You follow suit.

The bistro sign reads 'closed' and Jigen takes this as a pass to drop the bags on one of the bistro's round tables.

Your body collides against his as your arm extends to drop your bags there, too.

"Could've happened at any other time. Tsk.” He turns to look at you rifle through the shopping bags. “List the damages.”

“The calendar’s only slightly soaked, and we lost a couple of tomatoes in our run downhill I guess. And the water’s getting through to your razor.”

He grumbles under his breath, plucks off his hat, and turns it over to let all the water out, then proceeds to wring it. It couldn’t look any less comical.

“An umbrella would be nice.” You shiver as a gust of wind howls in your direction. “You wouldn’t let me buy anything that isn’t on our list.”

He sneakily palms the back of your neck. You jump under his cold hand and he lifts it. “Jigen, I’m warning you.” He knows what he was doing.

“Throw me a bone, will ya? I gave up an extra layer just for you.”

You peer up at his jacket that’s maintained the dryness of your head, then at the darkened colors of Jigen’s attire. The drippage is comparable to having just climbed out of a pool.

“I promise you, my beloved, your sacrifice won’t go to waste.” You hand it back to him and he scoffs, flashing a fleeting, toothy smile.

You had made him blush just a bit. His revolver stashed in the inner pocket of his jacket knocks on your back.

“And at that, my beloved also, I’m gonna need you to guard our stuff while I make a run back for an umbrella.” He throws the flow off with that last one, and you frown.

“What? Home’s just a few minutes away! We’ll be in a hot shower in no time.” His hand goes for your neck again and you recoil into a stance. “Back off, Elsa.” He chuckles. The urge to hug you in his sodden state is enormous, but he retrains himself because his childish pranks should end at tapping you with his cold hand.

“That works if stripping down’s what you have in mind.” He flicks more droplets off his hat and puts it on his head. “Here’s food for thought : I’m not carrying back soggy groceries a fraction heavier than when they were dry, and neither are you.”

“Fair point, JiJi.”

He pulls on his jacket over his wet shirt and prepares to make a dash through the rain that’s showing no signs of stopping. “I’ll be back before you can call my name.” He throws in a lazy wink, making you groan in faux disgust, but you wave him a safe trip. Jigen goes zoom.

Minutes past by and you hear shoes clacking on the brick ground. Albeit small, you hear it over the rain and in the distance you spot Jigen walking down the street with an umbrella over his head.

It felt as if you were experiencing an epiphany, with Jigen being your rain-warding deity. He looks as if he was struggling to find where he had left you.

The longing you endured screws your wits together and you holler while putting an arm out in the rain, “Daisuke!”

Huh? Daisuki? Has the cold finally got to them?

He approaches you. “Oi oi, you told me my sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain. Keep your hand where it belongs.” He takes your hand and curls it into a ball inside his own, bending in out of the rain’s touch. “Little traitor.”

You both make your way back, same bags in the same hands, huddled together under the umbrella in Jigen’s grasp. Twilight falls upon you.

“I heard you loud and clear back there.”

“That was the point, you know.”

“Just wanted to say, same.”

“ ᶦ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ - and all that jazz.” He mumbles this nonchalantly to play off its sincerity. He’s just too shy to say it in a way where he means it. (He’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit.)

“You love me?” You’re puzzled. Your confusion is audible through your voice, and Jigen is taken back, no thanks to your tone.

“There any reason why I shouldn’t now?” He straightens from unlocking the door and keeps his hand on the door handle. His one-eyed gaze scalds your face from under the rim of his hat. You might have just caused a grave misunderstanding. “Y/N, s’there something you’re not telling me?”

And this is why communicating your affections clearly is important. You guys don’t do that enough. Then it clicked.

“Daisuke. We’ve been at it for almost a year now, or is your first name off-limits for everybody?”

Jigen swings the door open and ends up carrying all the bags up the flight of stairs to evade the embarrassing confrontation. You tail behind him.

He’s genuinely embarrassed. The wet clothes on his body are the only thing keeping his heat in check. You step into your dusty attic home.

“Hey! Jigen, at least give me something of a response.”

“Can’t. Outta breath.”

“C’mon, old man. I’ll say I’m sorry for doing you like that.”

“Y-You did nothing,” he stammers. “Apologies are for suckers. I’ll go run you a bath-” A hole in the floor swallows his foot up to the ankle and he loses his balance and drops the bags.

You catch him by his waist, effectively getting yourself wet, too. He holds onto you before pushing your away lightly with a hand on your shoulder. He grunts his thanks.

“OI, LUPIN!” You feel speckles of water hit your face.

“Jigen! Y/N! Welcome home!” Lupin blurts out nervously.

You dress his minor scrapes in his room after a fussy shower that involved tying a plastic bag around his foot to keep his injuries from water.

"Daisuke, seems to me you’ve sprained your ankle as well.”

“Ain’t true,” he retorts, then winces when you prove your diagnosis.

“I’m the team medic. Who’s to say what’ll happen to you without me?”

“Me, and I say Lupin’s hands on me won’t feel like yours. Period.”

“That’s the spirit.” You pull his pants leg down over his calf and get up from the foot of his mattress.

“And nobody calls me that.” He lies down languidly, beckoning for you. “Why don’t you stick with Jigen like how you always do?”

You sprawl out next to him and begin to doze off with his arm cushioning your head. “Fine. Jigen Daisuki.” You make the pun on purpose.

That gets a rise out of him. Either way, he pulls you closer to snuggle. He can feel his ears burn.

He has a reason why he doesn’t use his first name. It sounds too much like a love confession.

Spare him and call him this only when you’re alone, lest you want his motor and cognitive functions to not fail him.

He’s accustomed to the other half of his name being used that hearing his ambiguous first name would only give him nasty cases of ‘what was that?’ especially coming from people who aren’t you.

Calling him would activate something in him. He’ll be more keen than usual on pleasing you with random gestures of kindness and love, and most of them you didn’t ask for.

He’ll bring you a cup of something without uttering a word, he’ll offer you something he bought off the shelf of a candy shop he passed the other day (he avoids sweets, so it’s safe to say these are for you), he’ll bring a bowl of fruits he cut and share them with you on the couch, he’ll offer to take you a nice salon for a trim or dye, to go clothes shopping, and the list goes on.

Suddenly he’s making an effort. Not like he doesn’t on a daily basis, but he does so in little things you never expect him to suggest himself.

Taking a few pictures with you in public suddenly doesn’t feel that lame anymore, so can be said for the many other recreational things he suggested you do together that you didn’t think he’d wanna do because of his low-profile rule.

In short, he becomes more open to trying new things with you and loves the sense of familiarity and closeness you’ve supplied him with. It’s senses a fugitive like him tries to avoid, but he digresses. You somehow got him hooked.

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could i request headcanons for lupin with an s/o who doesn’t seem like it at first, but is actually pretty touch starved?

Here we go- sorry it's short? I didn't know where to go with this-

Lupin with a Touch-Starved S/o

Pairing: Arsène Lupin iii x Reader

Note: none

Lupin is touchy with everybody, it doesn't matter who you are or where: the waist, the shoulders, ruffling someone's hair, slapping or kicking someone's ass or shins, etc.

So obviously, you're no exception to his touching, unless you tell him you don't want to be touched in certain areas, which he'll respect. Not that you've seemed to mind his (pg) physical affection, but he definitely notices that sometimes you'll lean in to his affectionate gestures, and he's not shy to tease you for it.

At first he doesn’t think much of it-most people enjoy affection from people they like, right?-but after taking note of the differences between you and everyone (not as in, whether or not he was hit or something for initiating affection), he figures something is up. After a while (not that long) he'll bring up being touch-starved to you. It takes a little interrogating before you relent and tell him you are, confirming it.

After that he's less likely to think about grabbing your hand and holding it or squeezing it in comfort, hugging you even when it wasn't the time to do so, or anything really.

At a formal dinner party? Hand-holding under the table and sweet kisses are bound to occur. Hanging out with the guys or and Fujiko? Those plus hugging or holding onto each other. In the middle of a chase from the cops or ol' Pops? Don't expect him not to hug you close as you're running and getting back in the vehicle or him playfully kissing you in the heat of the moment.

You're not as affectionate as Lupin can be, so the times when you lean in and willingly accept his gestures are sweet, but when you actually take his hand or initiate affection first? It's raw sugar to him- absolutely sweet.

Lupin melts at your affectionate gestures. He's not even subtle about it.

It doesn't matter how long the guys or Fujiko have known you- when your and Lupin's affectionate couple gestures are going on one or all of them are gonna let you know to get a room.

Lupin is respectful of your boundaries, so he won't mind going slow at first. It was already mentioned he melts when you initiate physical contact, but seriously, he melts. Whatever smile he had on before is bigger now, and he is happily reciprocating your contact no matter where you are.

You could be uneasy at a museum because something is off and Lupin will hug you back when you hug first. You both could be talking to two different people right beside each other and hold each other's hands for the warmth and comfort. Frick, you could be in the middle of a conversation and Lupin will see the unease or lonely look you may have on for a second and just assault you with physical affection.

Did he interrupt a conversation? Yeah, so what? His beloved partner looked like she needed the extra boost.

And after a long day, and everyone's retiring to their rooms or taking it easy, you two plopping down on the couch to cuddle and relax will not be postponed just because Jigen said to get a room again. 

Let's be honest; some things Lupin can chalk up to being fixed with a hug or something. Stressed? Frustrated? On the brink of tears? Either he'll notice first and initiate the affection, or you'll find him and initiate it first.

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May I please request headcanons for Lupin, Goemon and Jigen with a female s/o who is very gentle and maternal? (Like they end up hiding out at her little cottage because they're injured or something and she somehow gets caught up in whatever they're doing?)

Hiding Out at Her Cottage  (Lupin / Jigen / Goemon x Female S/O)

Unknown, heavy masses had landed on your roof and caused a good deal of damage. It had sounded like the blanket of tiles over at the east side of your roof had completely avalanched and crashed onto the ground outside your window.

That had left a bitter taste in your mouth, but you couldn't afford to be livid as ordeals like this had happened for too many times in your life since the three friendly trespassers came into it.

Compensations were always made on the day where things were steadily dying down and when it was safe to talk business and relations. After all, you needed the cognitive clarity to assimilate that you were suddenly the hunting grounds for the hunters upstairs, with three men hiding at your estate as the hunted.

Lupin

Headcanons :

He would rather have you hide somewhere from start to finish if the situation didn’t require him to pull you around with him because he’s aware that people are feverish when it comes to catching him.

He would defensively escort you to your place of safety while babbling like a poet, flexing all the flowery words and positive affirmations just to keep your cool. 

He sees your gentle and maternal side as a strength and admires you for it beyond your tendency of being attentive to him, which he finds cute and he rolls in it like a bed of flowers. You’re technically spoiling him with your affection.

Lupin notices how you don’t want him to be worried for you as opposed to you being worried for him. He gets it, but don’t take this for granted as he loves you too and shares the same drive to fuss over you when he needs to. Two can play at that game.

If you still choose to disregard your own wellbeing one his behalf even when you’re obviously suffering, then it’s his turn to be the parent. He’ll nag you back and take your privileges from being his sweetheart from you. No more Mr. Nice Guy, young lady. This time you’re being mothered by him.

Lupin shushed you with a finger to your lips when you began to fret and kissed your forehead to subdue you. His lips lingered before pulling away.

Without a nerve out of place, he ushered you by hand and waist into the center of their defensive man-triangle as if you didn't hear an aircraft plunge into the lake surrounding where you lived.

Your body swayed when he let go and you had forgotten how to emulate fear through the face. "The guys and I have the upper hand," he assured, talking over his shoulder to you. "You're just gonna have to sit it through until it’s over."

You looked to Lupin for an answer as you were hung on the appropriate course of action, and it didn't help that people continuously thumped on their shoes upon reaching the ground beyond your walls.

One man landed in front of the window Jigen had his gun pointed towards and smiled in contempt, brandishing his sash of throwing knives.

Lupin raised a cautious arm in front of you, smirking in dark amusement. He was in control when he swiveled the both of you. Now, with him shielding you with his body, he slowly backed you up to your one place of refuge, his Walther P38 raised. Lupin started to make grim estimations over the inaugural sound of magazines being clicked into place.

He welcomed your vice on his free arm and was decent to try and pacify you with flowery praises on how beautiful you looked today.

"You're like if a cloud fell into orange blossom water. Once this is over, promise me you'll fix me up with a bottle of the stuff so I can smell like tangerine, too."

He was referring to your own brand of perfume you were wearing. It was a concoction you'd made yourself, and honestly he just wanted a comfort fragrance to spritz and puff whenever he felt like it.

When you nodded it felt as though your neck had rusted your head into place.

“I'll...consider..."

"I'll go get you, sweetums." Lupin's eyes crinkled and his lips curled sweetly. “Now, run."

Your long skirt beat behind you as it caught wind underneath it from your dash. You barely escaped a knife when you stumbled forward. Somehow, this doubled to you closing your bedroom door.

"You have some motherfucking nerve to throw knives at my woman!" Lupin barked, his facade ever-present. He thought he saw it cut you, but debated it to being your sleeve instead. His finger flexed and his gun cocked. and gunfire ensued. The floor quaked and the sound of Zantetsuken repelling bullets penetrated your ears and you heard your couch hit the ground and groan across the floor.

You should really consider going nomadic like them, maybe tag along and help out in some way. What was the point in living in a house only to have the people who paid for it destroy every few months.

You retreated deeper into your closet and covered your ears, knees bent close and head hanging low, as a few bullets had zipped and clanged against the closet rod overhead. The gunfire had never begun to cease. Until it did.

A dead silence arose. Distant gunshots rang and your closet door screeched open, splashing light into the room. Men who you did not know stood towering over you, and the shoved apart the strip of clothes blocking you from their view.

You cried out for help, then backed to the inner most corner of your closet only to be towed out by the ankles. Two men had you by the arms and one your legs. You threshed and swung your freed fist at the side of one man's head, snapping his sunglasses and knocking his teeth together.

Unwillingly, you had given the men a spectacle to gawk at, and this instance of your feisty self in a frilly dress had one hot under the collar. He drew back his gun and sent a severe blow on your stomach. That sent you lolling. You were being lifted out of your room and you couldn't put up a fight.

You hung limp, face-up. The lights on our ceiling passed over you. One fine, two shattered. The breeze invaded your home your run-down front door. At the corner of your eye, you saw a flash of color. Whatever color it was, it was primary.

"Don't you men have wives to go back to? Children?" Lupin's voice rang, joy spread across your body, until it was dropped the moment you felt you had good things coming. You cussed, but the word was well-replaced with sweeter less acerbic alternative.

"Fuzz."

You surmised on the floor that the men who had tried to kidnap you had been so personally shat on by Lupin that they had dropped their guns and switched to their fists. Lupin had that effect on people who didn't like him.

You blanked out, and before it hit you that you were just a few meters away from a brawl. A dense whomp travelled across the room. It sounded like someone had dropped a bag af flour and its contents had blown out.

"Whoa! Been scrubbing the chimney I see!"

When you sat up to see what had caused that distinct sound, all four men were nothing but soot-covered imbeciles. Lupin, in the vein of Peter Pan's own phantom shadow, gunned down these men who didn't shield their eyes during the explosion.

Without uttering a word, Lupin was already on his haunches and probing you for anything, starting with your arm he speculated had been hurt.

"I'm fine, Lupin," you'd tell him as you used the hem of your skirt to rub the filth off his cheek. He tried to shy away, but you'd just get a hold of him as easy as that. "Did you play too close to my fireplace again?"

He pulled the elastic of your puffy sleeve down your arm and caught sight of a shallow cut in your flesh. He'd made the correct guess. He pulled it back up snugly, relieved that you hadn't been hurt too bad. You were left with blots where his hand had touched you.

"Ahah. Actually, I blew it up into smithereens."

"Figures. And, sweetheart," you drew in through your clenched teeth, goggling at him. "You need a bath."

You went in for his other cheek, this time with a shirt you had pulled off a hanger. Lupin had rocked back on the balls of his feet and dropped on his butt in front of you, practically purring.

“You baby me too much, Y/N.”

“And you love it.”

“Hell yeah I do.”

There you sat on the floor of your closet with legs crossed while Lupin's were flanking you. He let you wipe the soot over his eye lids, then his nostrils. He snorted and a smooth projectile of soot blew out of his nose.

You coughed and fanned your hand between you. His teeth shined happily. You smiled back at him, glad he was okay. Your shirt was collecting soot swipe after swipe from this forehead, so was your hand that had kept his face from constantly jostling from the power of your scrubbing.

Lupin had drawn a pair of soot brows on you. He'd held both sides of your skull and he dragged his thumbs over your real brows. The faux brows were angled high and he eyeballed his artistry with pride.

You let him have his fun. While you lifted his chin to clean his neck, he had finished the handlebar soot-stache above your lips with his pointer finger.

"What happened in there?" He pointed his chin to your room and you pulled it back. You could track telltale malice in his eyes. Your offenders were no longer around and you felt was no point in telling him.

"I was just bullied but some goons."

"Y/N, you're not being funny."

His mind wandered the longer he looked at your lap, veiled by a thin long skirt. He was beginning to form thoughts in his head he didn't like, yet he suspected something like that had happened.

"They just gave me a bruise."

"A bruise? Where?"

You brought a hand over your stomach and the pang from that pistol-whip had never left. Lupin's face fell. You shook your head and ran ovals over his mouth. His complexion was beginning to come through, and he looked too sad for your liking.

"I'm okay. Don't get yourself worked up."

"Really?" Lupin sounded like a doubtful teen, but the hurt was laced in his tone. His brow was raised and it looked like he was trying hard to keep himself contained.

"Really," you confirmed, bearing a weak grin. He shook his head and chuckled half-heartedly, disappointingly. He acquiesced and laid his hand on your thigh to, giving it a hearten squeeze and leaving behind a handprint. He had let you down.

“I’m sorry. That wouldn’t have happened if I was quicker.”

“Don’t be, Lupin. You came to get me, like you always do.”

You had wiped him the best you could, yet save for his face and neck, he was a stain. You emerged with Lupin close behind you. He observed how you didn't even look like you'd been through anything, besides a sooty handsy session.

At that he sighed and gazed upon your back with a new string pulling at his heart. He wanted to protect you with his life.

Jigen and Goemon came trudging through the tract of grass looking like absolute shit at their own right.

Goemon looked appalling and appalled, and Jigen's face contorted so profoundly he didn't even need to tip up his hat to show you.

"The fuck happened to your face?"

Jigen

Headcanons :

Depending on the severity of the situation, he’s stubborn and has enough balls to take you under his wing. He doesn’t have it in him to leave you huddled alone somewhere in risk of being smuggled behind his back.

Leave-no-man-behind mentality. He isn’t that gentle when keeping you safe, but he tries his best and you always turn up alive.

He sees your gentle and maternal side as his shield. He waits for you to come to him because he would never ask you directly and seek your comfort. You’re where he turns to whenever he feels like he’s incapable of keeping himself together.

Jigen isn’t likely to be honest with you all the time in terms of his condition or feelings, so you come charging at with some ample sweet talking. It may take time, but he’ll come around and end up loving the treatment you give him.

He won’t refuse your pampering ways, as long as it’s not conspicuous. He can be nurturing when he wants, but he can never top you in your own game. What he does in return is go along with you and loving you his way.

Jigen was taunted by the foe across him when he made a show out of picking which knife he wanted to peg at your direction. Jigen spoke his language right back at him.

Leisurely, he put the bullets in their cylinders. Slack-handed and with his emotions anchored, yet under the brim of his hat, his eyes wandered his periphery.

"Babe, my lighter." He angled his head low and watched your frantically darting eyes bouncing from one place to another. You were exercising your breathing to quell your tremor. Your eyes locked with his and they were lax and happy to see you.

He rolled his cigarette with his teeth from one side of his mouth the other. From behind him, you shakily held out his lighter for him and shield the flame with your other hand.

He was mindful to bring the lighter closer without shaking you up more than you already were. His fingers circled your wrist carefully and he kept it there as the cigar crackled to life.

You noted the way his fingers ran up the back of your hand before he took his hand away. He had done that to comfort you in this brief moment of quiet.

You watched in close distance as he took a drag and blew out smoke as he brought attention back to what was in front of him, thanking you around the cigar clamped between his teeth.

You closed the lighter and slipped it back into his jacket pocket, patting it over. He offered you his arm to hold without sparing you a glance, and you did. He could hear your tortured breathing as the roundabout of noises were becoming clearer and clearer to the ears. Then things ignited into action.

Jigen's gun sprung to life when the siege of projectiles began. Bullets and knives alike had swished past your head, and you had planned to crouch when Jigen suddenly tackled you over your couch for cover.

He slammed into you smartly enough to be the one to hit the floor first, but it didn't keep blood from spewing out your nose upon first contact. That had been an accident, he swore.

Your blood dripped onto his shirt and he pushed up his hat to get a glimpse of you in all your wide-eyed panic. Over your chest, a cigarette burn in your dress.

"SHIT. Shit.” His hands zipped to frame your face and you panted for breath. He gathered the gore in his palm. “How much does this dress mean to you?" His other hand had already clutched the fabric by your thigh.

"Why?" You wheezed out while you pinched your nose, getting blood on your fingers. This had you squeamish and Jigen on a guilt trip.

You didn't get your answer in words. Jigen began to savagely tear the skirt of your dress around midthigh and you rolled onto the floor next to him when he got up to open fire out your window, then in the direction of your front door.

He dropped back down to tear a full circle off the hem of your skirt while you stayed prone and covered you ears. The cold breeze licked your exposed legs. Jigen pulled what remained of your skirt down to secure your modesty, then rose up to train his gun at an oddly empty room in front of him.

You lifted your head amidst the havoc, and craning your neck brought you to a foreign pair of legs. A man hovered over you with a rifle tucked between his arm and side. The gun muzzle was inches way from your nose.

He leered at your distraught form on the ground, barefooted and tantalizingly out of place with a tattered dress. You weren't necessarily dressed for the job.

You screamed as you crawled on your hands and knees, knocking your preoccupied boyfriend's calf with your butt. Jigen reacted fast. He propelled himself at the man's direction and grabbed the man's firearm by its barrel, training it at the ceiling.

Jigen had been socked in the face multiple times before a shot fired out of his opponent's gun. The bullet had blown a large hole into it and sent dust and other grounds flying down onto them. This got into the man's eyes and he cussed.

Jigen swung at him and while the man stumble back, shot him twice in the chest. You jumped in your skin when his body fell. Jigen refilled his revolver.

Jigen wasn't as gentle when he yanked you off the floor as he was before. Your head throbbed and your feet grated against the harsh wooden floor. He swooped down to bunch the material he'd torn off your dress into a sizeable handkerchief and pushed it under your bloody nose without warning.

That nearly made you keel over, but Jigen held you by the nape before anything could happen. “Hold this under your nose," he said to you sternly. Your fingers went over his hand as you took the material and he slid his hand out from under your touch, watching your transfer of crimson onto fabric.

Jigen brushed a hand up your forehead to get your hair, anything out of the way of your eyes. He had a full look of your crucified face and clicked his tongue. He didn't like that look on you, more so now that you had a bloody nose no thanks to him.

He looked to your front door, the fixture lying flat on the floor as it had been rammed, then at the now doorway to the wilderness. This was what you would step through to make your escape to the lake.

"Jigen, they're everywhere, and your eye..." Your voice faltered and you slumped forwards. You felt dread take over you. Jigen felt responsible, though that lacked rationality, and he knew his right eye was swelling, but it wasn't something he hadn't got before.

"I know, I know." His thumb rubbed circles into your shoulder and he looked grisly in your eyes. He dropped the bloody rag onto the ground. "That's why I'm gonna take you to the boat and you're gonna stay there until I come back for you."

"What about you?"

"I'll be the one taking you there, duh? Don't sweat it. I'll be right behind you."

He had a death grip on your upper arm as you tramped towards the lake boat the three men had used to come here. You heard yelling behind you, and it wasn't the voices of anyone you knew.

You took off with Jigen barking behind you to keep going. Two bounty hunters of the opposite sexes charged forward, leaving the gunman with himself to fend against them.

He had fallen into the lake at some point after emptying his gun which rocked you in your vessel. You peaked over the edge to see him there; half his face submerged under the lake; his hat floating on its surface like an emo duck.

"There were seven, I counted. Dunno where the other four went," he spoke casually, head bobbing in the water. He palmed the hull as he made waves with his arms in an attempt to retrieve his hat.

For a man of his caliber, that was kind of stupid, he would admit to himself. So he dove. You let out a single-syllable laugh when he rose out of the depths, his prized possession acquired and water pouring down around his head.

He looked like he was having fun. He swam back to you and donated a lopsided grin to help boost your spirits. You smiled back, albeit unsurely. He swam further from the boat, but not out of hearing range.

"I've noticed, Jigen, that you're very drawn to water."

(I'm calling myself out. Jigen always seems to be in some state of drenched in my stuff.)

"It happens at the worst of times. I hate getting wet."

"Okay then, kitty cat. Why don't you get out then? I wanna see your handsome face."

You wanted to see the black eye. You leaned out of the boat a bit, motioning for him. He held his hands above the water's surface, which stopped you.

Jigen hesitated, sinking down lower and swishing his arms. He looked about as ready to leave the water as a navigation buoy.

"...Do I have to?"

"You wanna stay in there forever? The bacteria. The cryptids! Daisuke, get out of there. You're making me worried. I don't think I can take another scare."

He would require more convincing get out of the lake, but when he did he would take the entire lake onto the boat with him, splashing you in the process. Now, you understood why he didn't want to get out.

You had wrapped him in tarpaulin you found onboard. You ran a thumb airily over the brow of his black eye and he watched the pixies of your distraught flit behind your eyes. He closed his eyes when you kissed him at the beginning of his nose.

Now, Jigen sat with his back turned to you while you, elevated in your seat, attempted to dry his hair with your determined fingers.

He loved the undivided attention you gave him and the extra care to his wellbeing, but to see him like this was mortifying.

While you did that, he in return massaged your calves down to the toes. He knew running barefoot through woodland couldn't have been easy on your feet that were more accustomed to using shoes.

"They could've at least given you a tidier trim."

You combed through the cropped, jagged bristles taking up the bottom left side of his head like wild grass. It contrasted starkly from the loose waves to their right. Jigen was shaking his head.

He told you about how the woman in the bounty hunter pair had intended to go for his neck and had held him by his hair. She ended up chopping his hair of instead.

"Then this is the better alternative. You're lucky you came out alive."

"B-But..."

Jigen's hand wouldn't stop ghosting in the empty space over his left shoulder. You took pity on him since you knew besides his magnum, he put a lot of attention into maintaining the hair he'd been sporting and felt comfortable in for years.

"You'll look fine, JiJi. I can always give you a haircut."

"How short?" He paled and twisted his neck to look at you. You scratched his beard and teased his ear with a light pinch. He knew it couldn't be the answer he wanted.

"I can't say it'll be long." The poor man's petty fear was eating him alive. "I'll make you burgers if that makes you feel better. I know how much they remind you of home."

Lupin and Goemon came walking down the damp soil path looking like absolute shit at their own right.

"Ooooiiii! Get out of that boat, love birds!"

"Son of a bitch, they're never gonna live this down."

Jigen's hand tighten around your calf and he wheezed, taking his hat off his knee. You combed the hair on the top of his head some more before connecting your hands at the front of his neck, consequently pulling him closer to you.

You could feel him burrow his head back against you in an attempt to hide his uneven hair. He threw his hat on and pulled it down by the side brims. You could've sworn you heard him squeak.

Was he murderous or dying on the inside? You didn't know because you couldn't see, but could only feel him recede into you further when Lupin asked what was up.

"I won't let them laugh at you," you reassured Jigen, caressing the side of his neck, feeling him go slack at that, then glared at Lupin from where you sat, knowing he'd taken notice to Jigen's mousy behavior. He had that look on his face.

"Laugh and I will persecute you, personally."

Goemon

Headcanons :

He doesn’t take hostages and storms in to your aid even with his hands full and still manages.

He’s spontaneous and succinct with rescuing you and will at some point whisk you off your feet because if he’s being honest, if you can’t keep up with his plan on protecting you, then he’s gonna maximize the effort by doing this.

He sees your gentle and maternal side as a detriment to his own. As much as he loves you for wanting to care for him, he wants to do just the same, so it becomes a little competition between the two of you. 

He ponders on whether you weren’t the type to wanna be pampered or were you hide behind that pretense just so you can match up to him.

At the end of the day, he’ll does welcome your affections and seek them when he’s feeling it, after he’s given you his share. You know how parents bribe their kids with, let’s say kisses? Goemon does this to you as many times as you do to him. You guys are on equal ground.

Goemon had his eyes set on your back door. Beyond it, if you followed the dirt trail and climbed up the lush green hill, your garden would sit on the other side with its reaping. Your strawberries, as it was the season, had always been Goemon's favorite.

You were about to be surrounded them and in a small living room, with furnishings that only served to complement your vibe. They ironically they made taking cover harder. You were going to die by your assortment of cute, ceramic, woodland animals and mushroom.

"Y/N?" Goemon pulled you out of your deadly imaginings. You retracted your hand from him while letting the fear flow naturally out through your mouth in a long exhale. You took to cradling a hand with the other over your rampantly beating heart. You closed your eyes and tried to remain calm.

Then a man landed in a crouch outside your window with a huge ‘thump’. Goemon was practically trying to shield you from all sides. The man from before tickled the handles of the knives slung diagonally across his body and it looked like he was itching to fling one at your direction.

With a push from a thumb, Zantesuken’s case rattled and its blade winked with a blinding white light. Goemon’s eyes were harnessing the rage of a hundred storms. He had taken that gesture at him an grave insult than a threat, though that wasn’t to say you weren’t feeling less threatened.

His free hand was still hanging on his side and you knew better than slip your hand in there, no matter how desperately you felt it would calm you because doing that did. It would only serve to impede him and you didn’t want to be more of a burden than you already are.

You jumped when his vice made it around your forearm. His fingers went looser and looser, then they glided down until only his fingertips were touching your knuckles. You were starting to feel dizzy from the tension.

“Is everything okay?”

“Uh huh. Everything’s fine.”

He heard the hitch in your breathing and felt a bitter whip travelled up from the pit of his stomach. You were bending your emotions to suit his. Sucking it up wasn’t the issue, it was your denial of fright. Behind his back, his hand closed over yours and his fingers hooked beneath yours, then tightened reassuringly.

“Feeling fear is a virtue. There is no ugliness in it, no ugliness in you,” he expressed, didactic in delivery but heartfelt in words. He didn’t stop you from seeking solace in the warmth from his sturdy back. In fact, he leaned into you as you did him.

“I don’t feel safe here, Goemon,” you whimpered, growing weak when the guns outside cocked and click. You could feel your goosebumps rise when a crunch sounded behind you on the other side of the wall. You weren’t going to breakdown at least.

“That’s why, enough with the pretending. It is not your duty to impress me as it is not mine to abandon you for being able to do so. There’s no need to prove yourself to me because I’ve already placed you above me.” Goemon slowly removed his hand from yours, took a deep breath, and stepped forward. 

“Now, if what you are is afraid, then I will protect you.”

Things were set into motion after a bullet got redirected to the wall. You didn’t even see Goemon pull out his blade to do that. Goemon made you duck out of the way of more gunfire. He had dipped you like you were dancing, but instead of reeling you back up, he laid you flat on the ground.

You rolled onto your front and the shrill metallic clanging above you moved away as Goemon lunge forward, his arm and sword a whirling sphere of silver and sparks. You saw firearms hit the soil in pieces, also the unintentional-yet-intentional severed digits.

You heard them scream the agony out their lungs despite your skull-crushing hands over you ears. Goemon scurried back to you with his sword sheathed, scooped you up to your feet, and took a long hard look at you.

His eyes scanned your face like he was watching the barrels roll down the platforms in Donkey Kong. He ridded your nose of a thin piece of shredded wood with a single flick of his pointer finger and brushed a hand up your arm.

“Are you hurt?”

You wanted to shake your head in reply, but he yanked you to his chest and pivoted, shielding you with his body. You watched his hair rise like a crow’s wing as a bullet whizzed past his shoulder.

“Goemon!” You reached for the tear in his kimono, but his hand stopped you by your wrist and tugged you sideways. Next thing you knew, your backdoor was sliced wood and piling up in the doorway. Goemon, ever the fastidious one, leaped ahead and held his hand out for you to hold onto while you leaped.

When you ran and Goemon towed you by your wrist, bullets plant themselves into the soil in your wake. You picked up the pace, but Goemon saved you from the exertion. His feet grinded to a halt. He spun around and squatted as you ran into him, unaware until the very last second that he was lifting you off the ground and onto his shoulder.

Your skirt was long, flowy, and catching the air like a sail, and it was distracting to both his sight, mind, and soul. He smoothed it over your behind with the same arm that held you and jammed the material between your knees, apologizing profusely for handling you in such a disrespectful way.

You wanted to find humor in all of this, however the danger was only beginning. Two women sprinted after you, each with a jagged combat knife in their possession. They were so nimble it was alien.

Goemon set you down by the white gate of your garden and nudged you. “Hide! Don’t let yourself be seen. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

You dashed down the winding stone steps past your hillside garden that stretched out on both side as far as your eyes can see. You grew your own food here, and your produce were growing in soil held by makeshift pots of piled rocks.

Metal clashed with metal, and a couple of minutes in, Goemon realized that overpowering these women would be harder than expected. He deflected their blades when they came over his head, to his side, down his chest, up his crotch.

His sword slit the air and made it whistle, then one woman’s weapon went flying upon the countless blows by Goemon’s own. He skidded along a row of greens towards the forest at its end. He was followed by only one assassinator. He would incapacitate her.

You skipped the last two steps, your gardening shed was just around the corner. Before your hand twisted the doorknob, a knife went flying. It cut the flesh between your two knuckles and you screamed, feeling it sting under the gust of cold wind.

You pulled your hand out from under blade and watched your blood smear against it as you did. A tall woman was already behind you to pluck her knife out of the wooden door. She spun you by your shoulder and shoved you with such force it unhinged the door behind you.

When you stumbled backwards, your head blasted against the ground and you moaned, bringing a hand to the back of your head and feeling the pain pulse. You writhed, curling your legs closer to your chest while you rolled onto your side, reaching for the nearest garden spade.

It felt like you were rolling over a ball in a tray. You wanted to throw up; wanted to stop the ringing in your ears; wanted everything to stop spiraling. Your tears were letting your vision down and you tried to blink them away, though this brought with it ache that came in pairs, and they were all in your temples.

You sobbed, then yelled at the woman to go away, that you were hurt and that she should rot in hell. You pointed your gardening tool at her.

“I’m sorry, honey, but we were given orders to eliminate everyone on the scene. No hard feelings, okay?” You heard how cruel that sounded and mumbled your plaints. She was nothing but a featureless silhouette when you gave her a glance

You were hanging on to the little consciousness you had left. Your legs lost the strength in them and your arm fell, loosening its grip on your only means of defense. Then darkness. You prepared for your demise, yet it never came. A body hit the ground followed by a gurgled wheeze.

What came after was a gravelly floor slide by the samurai you were so glad came back. Zantetsuken’s two parts had been left scattered on the floor next to him. Frantically, Goemon gathered you by your shoulders and pulled the rest of you onto his lap.

He shook you lightly, and when you didn’t respond, he called out to you while clearing your cheeks from soil and the moisture from both your tears and the stone floor’s condensation. His thumb glossed over your closed eyelid and his hand cushion the side of your face.

“Answer me. Y/N?” He shook your head in the crook of his arm. He brought you closer to his chest and touched the top of your head like he was handling a newborn. He stroked you between your eyes repeatedly, trying to soothe you into opening your eyes.

“Dearest?”

His thumb never stopped in its endeavor. He grew more worried as more seconds passed and you still weren’t coming through. “Open your eyes and answer me, my dearest.” His breathing became irregular and his chest hummed as wrath rose from the pit of his stomach.

He clenched his jaw and a stinging glare was shot at the groaning door’s direction. It was hanging by its bottom hinge, its unity with the ground due. He put himself on high alert.

Gunshots still went off in a distance and he knew his friends were more than capable in defending for themselves. Remaining hidden until you woke was now his priority.

He crossed his legs and dragged Zantetsuken's blade across the ground, scraping the stone's surface. He cradled you in his arms and he chanted a prayer to calm his oscillating emotions. Your name made it into his mantra.

Time passed and the door finally hit the ground. That sent a shock up your legs to your head. You forced your eyes open and focused only on Goemon’s moving lips. Your head throbbed excruciatingly and looking at the light from outside the shed was like looking directly into the sun.

You squinted, squirming as you faced Goemon’s chest. He shaded your eyes from the light with his hand. His eyebrows lost their menacing arch and he had resorted to embracing you with the one arm that had been holding you up this whole time. You nuzzled into him, though arms dangled out of his touch. He heaved a heavy sigh and pulled away.

“Were you dropped on your head?”

You nodded, not without a struggle. Your body felt like it was fazing between realities as your perspective kept shifting involuntarily and it made you sick. Goemon lowered his sword onto the ground next to him and cautiously caressed your head.

He trained his gaze on your face, solemnly. He had taken too long and let harm found its way to you. He flared with a vengeance directed to no one in particular. He felt betrayed by his own lapse of judgement and you paid the larger price.

“Once things are calm once more, you will refrain from doing anything that might worsen your condition. I will care for you. Understand, Y/N?”

Your bloody hand tapped onto the side of his face and he gasped at the flash of bright crimson that cascaded from your knuckles. He reached into his kimono and yanked a measurement from his bandage waist wrap.

“Goemon sweetie, you have a cut.” Your dragged a feathery finger over the scar on his right cheek. His frown became more prominent.

“I’ll be fine. You, on the other hard, are in worse shape than I am. Dearest, please,” he implored when you wouldn’t stop fussing over him. He brought your hand away from his cheek and, with both hands, began wrapping your gash.

You watched his fingers secure the knot while you remained still within the broken hoop that was his arms. When he was done, he put your hand over your stomach and allowed you to rest. You seated yourself on his lap in a way where he didn’t need to keep supporting your back.

He tried to protest this, but you shushed him. You faced your body towards his and clung onto his neck. Predicting this, Goemon helped you shift your legs into a more desirable position. He now had arm over your curled legs while the other remained low behind you.

You went slack against him and he placed his cold hand over your forehead. The both of you waited for the violence outside to simmer down.

“Goe?”

“What is it, dearest?”

“Tell me what you’re feeling.”

Silence. That was out of the blue. Your injuries must be getting to you.

“Are you in the mood for...strawberries?”

What you had failed to notice was how his socks had turned pink from tramping over his favorite fruit that had been ready to be picked. He didn’t know how to answer that without evoking something in you, so he hushed you.

“Don’t speak. You’ll hurt your head more.”

But you kept asking him, so he bribed you by offering you a kiss. It worked. When you kept asking for more, Goemon complied meekly.

Lupin and Jigen came climbing down the garden steps looking like absolute shit at their own right.

“Oh bitch. This garden got bulldozed.” You heard Jigen say, followed by his lighter closing. “The strawberries aren’t looking too great.” Confused, you turned to Goemon.

“What happened to my strawberries?” You were down to asking only the simplest of questions. All you wanted to do was sleep, but Goemon looked so uneasy and that kept you from doing so.

“When you are better, I’ll provide you with an answer. Come now. Into my arms, and close your eyes.”

[rbbalmung]

RUN, RABBIT, RUN: Part 3

To the Garden

Trafalgar Law x Reader Zombie Apocalypse AU

Part 3 of my @infixop gift for @namism!

CW: Zombies, mentions of death. Pretty tame compared to the other parts tbh. No use of Y/N or gendered pronouns.

WC: 5384

<-Prev Masterlist

(A/N at the bottom)

Law is gone when you wake up. 

You don’t realize at first. The warmth from the blankets and the soft mattress below you keeps you on the edges of sleep. With your eyes closed, and the thoughts in your head not yet coherent, the past three days are almost like a bad dream. Nothing is real, and when you sit up, you’re sure you’ll be back in your own bed, waiting for your alarm to sound despite waking before it. You’ll get up, drink water and go through your morning routine like usual. Almost like everything was just a nightmare to wake up from.

Your eyes snap open. 

The bed beside you is empty. 

You frantically scramble out of the covers, tripping over yourself to slide on your shoes as you hurry to the door.

The apartment living room is empty. So is the bathroom. So is the kitchen. 

Where is he? Through your frantic thoughts, that one rises to the surface. Maybe you shouldn’t have trusted him. Maybe you should've left the night before— abandon him before he could you. 

Your bat is by the front door. It’s untouched, the wet carrion that covered it now dry. You grab it, and yank open the front door. 

Law is standing there. 

His arm is still snug in its sling and a surprised expression is plastered across his face. 

“Are you okay?” He says.

A rush of relief spreads through you, wobbling your knees. You don’t fall. You won’t allow yourself to— but you still speak up, voice hoarse from sleep. “I thought you left.”

Law rolls his eyes at that, nudging you out of the way as he enters the room. He drops Kikoku from his shoulder, resting her against the little ottoman by the door, and sets a plain grocery bag on top. He then turns to you, easing your bat from your hand and placing it gently by Kikoku. 

“I said I won’t leave you.” Law says, then gesturing to the grocery bag. “I was looking for food. He left a lot of supplies.”

At the mention of ‘he’, you gag. 

Right. You killed someone yesterday. Law, if he looked through the whole building, must have found the body already. He’s probably put two and two together. Law steps towards you, reaching out, but you shake your head. 

“Did you go upstairs?” You choke out, eyes wide. 

Law pauses then. He’s staring at you again. His gold gaze is heavy, different from last night but all the same. 

You feel your stomach flip.

“Yes.” He finally says, voice even and soft. “I don’t fault you for doing what you did. I can imagine it was a moment of intense stress, and you did what you needed to survive.”

You shrink back. An array of emotions swell up from the deep dark well inside you. You feel the need to scream and cry and laugh all at once. So you do nothing. You sway the few steps to the little armchair, and collapse into it. 

Your eyes are dry. 

The silence lingers. Despite the sleep you got, you’re still so, so tired. The armchair melts around you, and it feels like you’re falling. The world blurs and you can’t feel your toes. The void of nothingness is a comforting presence. It’s easy to fade into it, disappear into somewhere far from here.  

Law steps in front of you. He kneels, the sling a bright contrast from his dark clothes and hair. Carefully, he touches your hand, lying limp on the armrest. 

“Hey.” 

You glance at him, feeling returning somewhat to your body. 

“Let’s eat first.”

~~~~

Law seems to be handling everything too well. 

You suppose it's the nature of his job, to keep calm and keep others calm even in the most stressful of situations. He’s good at urging you back from yourself, to get you moving again despite the hole in your own morality. 

After packing the leftovers, you leave the shade of the building for a bright, hot sun and light blue skies. The post rain air is fresh. Months of dust has been washed away, leaving behind cleaner streets slowly staining under your feet. Law is a lot more talkative today— or there might just be a lot to get through. 

He waits until you’re well on your way to start, around three blocks from that fateful apartment building.

“I have a satellite phone. It’s out of batteries. They’re type AA. We should aim to find some today.” Law says. 

“Was there none at the apartment?” You say. 

“No.” Law says. “I checked.”

You make a sound of acknowledgement. The sun is melting away the discomfort of the morning. It’s hot on your skin, and you’ve already opened the front of your jacket. The lapels sway with your every step. 

“I can use the phone to contact the camp I was living at on the other side. Then someone can come pick us up.”

“There are others there?” You ask. 

“Yes.” Law replies. “I know some very resourceful people. We managed to make it across the river before things got as bad as they are now. It’s pretty safe there.”

The question from yesterday morning comes back to you. And this time, you’re not afraid to ask it. “Why are you here?” 

When Law doesn’t answer, you stop. At the disappearance of your footsteps, Law turns around. You frown at him, then rephrase the question.

“Why are you here? On this side.”

Law starts walking again, but this time, he does answer. “There is a pharmacist at the camp. He wanted to make an antibody for the infection but we didn't have a lab. I’m the only person there that knows what he needs and might potentially need. We can’t waste a trip like this.”

“Why didn’t he come himself?” You jog to catch up.  

“He’s sixteen.” Law replies.

“Oh.” You say.

Law is easier to talk to than you thought. The topic quickly reels from the camp to Law’s medical career to the various series you both used to read— and Law has never gotten as animated as now, expressions exaggerated and voice tinted with a childish excitement. 

You can’t help but laugh. Not at Law, but with the contagious happiness that is spilling from him. The sun is making everything better. You welcome the warmth with open arms.

It’s been around three hours since you left the apartment. The streets are mostly empty. Occasionally, the two of you have been stepping into empty shops in search of the batteries Law so desperately needs. It’s the third one, always the third one, that you enter where you find something you need. 

The cracked glass door tears away easily with your kick. The shop is dark, but with your bat, the lack of light does not scare you. You shuffle around first, doing an interior check. When all you find is the crack of plastic bits underfoot and the scent of dust, you motion Law inside as well. There isn't much as you slowly look around, browsing the empty shelves until something makes contact with your foot and shoots across the aisle. 

“You okay?” You hear Law ask from the other side. 

“Yes.” You call back. You look down to see what you kicked. It’s a little toy plane, it’s bulky body speaking of a potential battery cavity. You pick the toy up. It’s heavy and full of dust. You turn it around, blowing the dust off the cover, and pop it open. 

Inside are batteries! AA ones at that— and you quickly unlatch the rest of the cover, ripping out the pair. 

“Here!” You run around the isle, handing them over to Law, who eases his bag from his arm, and sets it on the ground. You help him unzip the top, and are surprised to see the contents, finally. Endless clear plastic dishes and tubes and pipettes, all organized in sterilized packaging. He carefully rummages through the organized mess, pulling out the satellite phone. 

It’s almost like a radio, with how chunky it looks, but you guess it can be called a phone if you compare it to the ones from a century ago. You help him unlatch the back, popping out the dead batteries and switching them with the new ones. 

With bated breath, you wait for Law to turn it on. The seconds are agonizing— but you breathe a sigh of relief when the screen on the front lights up. 

“Oh good . . .” You say, mostly to yourself, as Law begins to dial. The sound of tapping buttons fills the air, and then you wait. 

“Law?” The line connects with a beep. A voice travels through from the other side. Law visibly deflates. He slides down against the counter. His coat sags against the floor, and Law leans forward, resting against your shoulder for support.

“Yes Bepo, it’s me.”

“Law!” You think this Bepo guy must be crying from the way his voice cracks. “I knew you’re okay! Guys! It’s Law—” The other side of the line descends into chaos. 

You turn to Law then, and he laughs. The sound is low, and he sags more of his weight against you, causing you to almost fall over. You curse at him, trying to push him off but Law doesn’t budge. He merely laughs harder. 

“Law?” The same voice comes through from the other side. “Tell us where you are!”

Law, in all his genius, begins answering in numbers. 

“How do you even know that shit?” You interrupt. “Just tell them the street we’re on. We all live here, you know.”

“Who’s that?”

Law hands the phone over to you, and you introduce yourself. There’s an apprehension when Bepo responds. He quickly asks for Law again.

“Franky will be there in around thirty minutes.” Bepo says. “Be careful, there is still a lot of them around the bridge.”

“Okay.” Law replies. He hangs up soon after, turning to you with a big grin. It’s almost childlike, and you return the smile, feeling true relief for the first time in days. There are people coming for you. All you need to do is survive for thirty more minutes. 

Suddenly, your airway starts to tickle. It must be from the dust, abundant and glittering under the light of the sun, and you sneeze, barely able to block the reaction and subsequently jamming your elbow right into Law’s ribs. 

He lets out a grunt— while your body tingles from the force. However, the dust does not stop its scratchy path into your mouth and nose.

“Sorry!” You wheeze, eyes watery. The dust is not helping. “I’m going to step outside.” You don’t bother to check if Law follows you or not. There, a few heaving breaths seems to be enough for your airway to clear. 

It’s nice, really nice outside. There’s a part of you that is suddenly sleepy. You’re reminded of cats, basking in the light of the sun as they take an afternoon nap. 

“How far are we from the river?” You ask suddenly. You’ve been to this part of town before, you think. There used to be a park around here that was quite popular with families. You don’t wait for Law when you start walking. It’s like something’s pulling you beneath your feet, and nothing else seems to matter. Nothing else but the sunny skies and the growing sound of rushing water. 

“We shouldn’t go too far.” You hear Law say beside you. 

But there isn’t anything out on the streets. And it’s so nice outside. But you’ve never been this much of an outdoorsy person. Maybe it’s the fact that things are going to be okay for the first time in a long while. But then, you’re not quite sure why you’re so eager to be outside, either. 

You’re not sure for how long you walk. But it was long enough that the road suddenly breaks into a little patch of woods, growing downhill to the riverbank. Under the sun, the river is glimmering. The water rushes by with a speed you can see even from here. And just out of curiosity, that morbid, deadly thing, you step out to the street, where the view of the bridge would be the clearest. 

Like before, the bridge was swarmed with zombies. But now, somehow, the fear you were engulfed with before has faded. They’re still gross, disgusting. Stinking of death. You don’t shake. Not even when a few turn and spot you far too soon, beginning to tumble after you in a big wave. However, a curious thing catches your attention. On the tops of some of the zombie heads, you think you see sprouts. White and green, growing at different heights and different sizes. You don’t get a chance to understand what you’re seeing because Law starts to leave. 

This time, he makes sure to grab your hand. 

The sun is hot on top of your head. You tire just as easily as you did a week ago, but this time, Law makes sure you keep up. The zombies are as slow as ever. Like always, you mutter thanks to whatever is out there that’s keeping the zombies slow. Law’s steps are fast and sure, and you rely on his momentum to keep you going. But then the sound of an engine catches your attention. You turn back, and from across the white bridge, you see a truck. It’s painted blue and red, obnoxious with stripes and stars. But that’s not why you can’t pull your eyes away. 

You haven't seen a working motor vehicle since the military pulled out. The truck charges across the bridge, driving like there is unlimited access to gas. It launches bodies over the railings, crushing them under its massive wheels. 

Law stops, and you crash into him, unable to take your eyes off of it. Then it drives off the bridge and makes a sharp right turn right towards you.

It crushes through the hoard so easily, splashing body parts and fluids everywhere. Some of it lands on your jacket, and you hurry with Law to get out the way as the truck drives in a circle around you, crushing all the zombies all the while the booming reverberation of hard bass, muffled by the truck windows, thunder around you. When the last of the danger in your immediate area disappears, the window in the passenger seat rolls down. Immediately, some heavy rock song begins pouring out the windows. Law gestures at the people inside to turn it down, and the music begins to fade to a more tolerable volume. 

You blink against the shine of the truck, trying to catch a glimpse of your rescuers. Just inside the passenger’s side, you see a man with short green hair. He’s laying leisurely against the seat, hands behind his head, appearing to be asleep despite the pounding bass from a moment ago.

“Traffy! It’s super to see you alive! What’s up with the arm?” From behind the green haired man, you see another person. The reflection of his sunglasses catches your eyes first, then the volume of shocking blue hair next. His voice is loud and boisterous, and the Hawaiian shirt he wears is too colourful and far too clean. It’s almost too much for you after this week of somber death and the struggle to survive. You understand the power of a positive attitude— but this is too much. You reach out, grabbing onto Law’s coat. He shifts, blocking you from view. 

“Fractured it.” Law says, tone flat and bored. “Is Chopper good to take a look at it today?”

“Absolutely!” The driver sends the both of you a large thumbs up from inside the truck. It then shifts into a pointer finger, aimed straight at you. “And who’s this?” 

You gulp, and say your name. The air shifts slightly as the man with the green hair cracks an eye open, looking you up and down. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. He’s dangerous. But you can face danger. 

You lift your chin, stepping out from behind Law, shoving your shaking hands into your pockets.

“No bites?” The green haired man asks.  

Law shakes his head. “I can confirm not.”

They seem to take Law’s word for it. The driver’s smile is back. “Super! Get in the back and we’ll go.” 

“He’s Franky, and the other guy is Zoro.” Law whispers to you he moves to open the backseat. The door doesn’t budge.

“Hey.” He says. “Open the door.”

Franky shoots him an exaggerated look of despair.

“I know someone who will get mad if you get the goo on the seats.” 

“Does that even matter right now?” Law sighs. “Did you not bring plastic sheets?”

“Forgot it.” Zoro shrugs. 

Yikes. You’re not sure your rescuers actually cared about the two of you at all. The back of the truck is open to the elements and very big. You’ve never ridden in the open trunk of a truck before. It’s an experience you fancied. The idea of the wind flowing through your hair, the sun pouring down on your face—

“That’s fine. We can sit in the trunk.” You say to Law.

He nods, and the two of you make your way to the back. Popping the trunk open, you climb up first, dropping the bags and weapons on the floor of the trunk. Then, you reach out to help Law up. He takes your hand, and steps up against the little ledge where a license plate used to be, boosting himself up to sit beside you. You pull up the open back of the truck trunk, feeling the ledge click back in place. 

“Y’all good back there?” You hear Franky shout. 

“Yes!” You answer. 

The truck shoots off before you can sit down. 

You’re hit instantly with a hard gust of wind. It blows you up and back, threatening to knock you against the railing of the trunk. Law grabs you before it can happen. His hand is warm against your wrist. He pulls you down beside him, leaning against the little window at the back of the seats. There, the hood shelters you somewhat from the artificial breeze, and you watch as the truck turns around crumbling streets and abandoned skyscrapers, until it’s barrelling down the very same bridge you and Law worked so hard to get to. 

Railings and zombies and the river below rip past you, and you can’t help but gaze at the flickering sunlight reflecting across the water below. Turning forwards, the only thing you can see is the noon cityscape in front of you, receding with each second. The last week of terrible things seem to shrink with it. Everything you experienced growing less and less, until it’s just a little speck in a snowglobe, one the exact model of your ruined home. 

~~~~

The camp is not a ‘camp’. It’s a compound. 

You realize so when the gates open for the truck, tall, chain linked fences sliding towards the left, right as Franky slowed the truck down. You had peered over the edge, eyes growing wider the closer you got. There is a wall around the perimeter. It’s tall, taller than you sitting in the trunk of this huge truck. They're thick too, almost the length of your arm.

You turn to Law. “How big is this place?”

“The living area is two blocks. We’re planning on expanding the farm again soon.” He says. “But that’s not counting the energy and water systems. Altogether it’s around five. Franky built them before the city one went out. We’ve been using them since.”

“He’s amazing.” You say. 

The truck pulls to a stop at where you assume is its regular spot. The sound of gravel crunches under the wheels. It takes a second more of idling, the rumble of the engine reverberating through your body, before the truck stops. Like before, you carefully unlatch the trunk, hopping off onto the gravel floor. You look around. There are a few other vehicles parked around the courtyard. There seems to be another layer of walls built out from a house, keeping the parking lot and gate from the rest of the camp. You turn around, getting your stuff out of the trunk. 

You help Law slip his bag over his shoulder. Holding out Kikoku, you are pleasantly surprised when he tells you to keep holding her for him. Then, the two of you set off behind Franky and Zoro. They enter the house, past the reinforced front door and the barren insides. You think there are smears of blood on the walls. You don’t want to know. Keeping your head down, you keep walking, staying in line behind Law. Then, you reach the back door. 

They push open the exit, and you’re blinded for a moment. 

Then you see everything. Plants, trees, flowers and grass. Houses with intact windows and people. Not a lot, but still many enough to remind you of a nice day out in the city. You step out behind Law, amazed by everything you’re seeing. There’s conversation bustling, voices carrying over with the wind. You look around, trying to comprehend everything. The contrast from outside the walls of this place pricks at your nerves, and you shuffle closer to Law, unsure of where you’re even going as you make your way down the street at a brisk pace. 

“We’re going to report to the main office first. And we have to let everyone know you’re here too now.” Law says. He’s looking at you with understanding. 

You hope it’s not because you look just as frazzled as you feel. 

Either way, it’s too weird. The streets are clean, the houses painted colourfully in various vibrant shades. There’s a liveliness here you haven’t felt in a long while, and even though the idea of safety is echoed in each brick, each breath and each step you take, you don’t feel it. 

“There’s a rec hall we can use further that way.” Law points towards somewhere in the distance. You nod, because what else can you do?

The four of you walk for another while in silence. The sun is still hot upon your skin, though it is further along the sky. You would usually be thinking of getting back to a safe place now— and today, your first instinct still is. But there is no more need to do that. It does quell your nerves, somewhat, when you finally enter the house that’s been remodeled as the main office. There are a few people there, a man with a penguin on his hat and a kid with a pink hat and blue overalls leaning against the counter, deep in some conversation filled with laughter.

“You’re back!” The kid turns at the sound of the four of you in the doorway, running up to you.

“This is Chopper.” Law supplies. You might’ve never guessed he was a doctor— for he gasps at the sight of Law’s arm. 

“Traffy! What happened to your arm?”

“I fractured it from a fall.” Law says. “Can you take a look at it today?”

The request for his medical aid seems to shift something in him. Chopper stands up taller, confidence growing on his face as he answers. “Of course! You can head to the clinic after you’re done here. I’ll go set everything up first!”

Chopper steps away from the counter, sliding a heavy book across the table under his arm. He waves at you, and you wave shyly back. Law has already crossed the three steps to the counter. The guy behind it reaches out, putting his shoulder as the penguin pom pom on his hat bobbles with the action. 

“Hey, Cap.” He grins from under the brim of his hat. “Glad to see you alive. I’ll let the others know you’re back.”

“This is Penguin.” Law says. “He’s a good friend of mine. He’ll get you in the registry. It’s just a good way to keep track of everyone here. If you leave the camp, you should let the main office know.”

Law, thankfully, stays with you through the whole process. It wasn’t long, per se, but the thought that you are being kept track of again after all this time was . . . somewhat unsettling. Either way, your name is now filed into one of the manila folders tucked into one of the large cabinets behind the makeshift desk. Sometime after Penguin started talking to you, Franky and Zoro left. Now, it’s only Law and you. You exit the house. 

“I’ll show you around.” Law offers. “But we should go see Chopper first.” 

At the mention of the boy, you suddenly remember something.

“He called you Traffy right? Is the nickname a thing here?” You tease. “Should I be calling you that too?”

“If you call me that I’m throwing you out personally.”

“Okay. I won’t.” You say. 

Despite his joking tone, it doesn’t quell the anxiety that’s been bubbling under your skin. It’s all far too pristine. It’s crazy that these people were just . . . thriving while you and so many others are struggling to even survive. And they seem to value the sanctity of this place over the value of outside lives. You can tell they have the resources to help much more than just themselves— but it doesn’t seem like they even want to try. 

Still, you instinctively follow him, staying close even when they swarm Law. They talk over each other enthusiastically. Law merely stands there, a soft smile you’ve learned to recognize growing on his face. 

You stand to the side, unsure what to do. 

It’s not often you feel out of place. But here, at this compound, with the sun shining over you and safety aplenty inside those barricades, you don’t even know how to feel. You suppose the usual emotions, joy, relief, even anger at these people for the unfairness of it all; but you feel nothing. 

All you want is some food, a shower maybe— with their running water— sleep, and, a dastardly thing at the back of your mind: Law.

You watch him talk to his friends, so relieved to see them again after this hell of a week he lived through. He has a life here already. And you have no right to assume he owes you anything. You can make your own life here if they accept you. So the first step to take is to prove you are worthy of living here. You steel yourself, ready to take the first step away—

But then he looks back at you, and your resolve crumbles. 

He calls your name.

You step forward.

And he next few hours are a blur. 

A shower, a tour, eating with everyone—

Law leads you through winding halls, between buildings, and leaves you with others while he goes off to do something by himself. There are too many people with too many personalities for your poor, isolated mind to keep up with.

Franky, Zoro, those two you met earlier. Zoro still stares at you with distrust. 

Nami— orange hair, orange tangerines. She offered you one when you sat down next to her in the dining hall. 

A tall woman with black hair named Robin, who showed you the library— yes, there is a library— 

Sanji, who made dinner, Brook, who sings, and Jimbe, who’s able to lift the long, wooden tables so easily when there are too many people at one and another is needed.

And Luffy, with his sunshine smile and something terrifying behind his eyes. He scares you the most.

There’s something nauseating about them. 

It’s halfway through the night, after you begin falling asleep right where you sit while everyone else is singing and dancing, that you realize why.

They’re too happy here.

~~~~

The taste of fresh fruit lingers upon your lips.

Dinner was many dishes of vegetables, flavoured, seasoned, and platters of fresh cut meat. You wanted to eat all of it, stuff yourself full until you can’t possibly down anything more but Law stopped you. ‘It’s not good to eat so much after months of malnutrition,’ he had said, so you had looked around sadly, and picked a small bowl of fresh strawberries to eat. 

They were ripe and sweet. A taste you never thought you’d experience again.

You’re so tired. But you still can’t fall asleep. 

The lingering remains of the day catch at the edges of your mind. The camp is safe, but it’s a safety that only comes from not knowing what you don’t know. It’s a utopia of ignorance, and you, with all the horrors you’ve experienced woven deep into your bones, you can’t let go of the way it’s shaped you, knowing the danger that lies just beyond these fresh, pristine walls.

But then again, everyone else is happy. No one is worried. Maybe in the end, it’s you who’s wrong. Maybe it's only you who doesn’t belong here.

You sit up. Despite the endless hurricane of thoughts rushing around your head, one thing stands above the rest. 

Law.

You need to see him. To feel him under your fingers and know that he’s alive.

You’re lucky Penguin gave you the room beside Law’s. You don’t think you can stomach bumping into anyone else at the moment. The Strawhats— as friendly as they are— make you uneasy. It’s in the way they smile, living on without a care in the world while the rest of the city is slowly dying, turning into dust under the light of the sun. 

You look both ways before shuffling out of your room, arms chilling with the new T-shirt that’s been gifted to you. There’s a little skull on it, very much like the rotting zombies outside. You knock on his door. Softly. Did Law even hear it— if he is awake? You aren’t sure. But you wait there anyways; and the seconds tick on and on in the moonlight-illuminated corridor. 

Hm, you think. Seems like he’s not awake after all. You turn, resigned to your sleepless fate, but his door opens. 

Law stands there, head free of his hat, the bags under his eyes somehow even more prominent in the moonlight. You think you look the same, haggard, even after this day of supposed relaxation after . . . everything. 

Law whispers your name softly. It’s barely there, like a gentle breeze. 

You swallow your apprehension, and whisper back. “Can I sleep with you?”

He doesn’t say anything. 

He steps aside. 

You enter his room. It’s tidy. Completely ordinary. A small desk sits by the entrance and a bed is shoved into the corner, two sides against the wall.

Law closes the door behind you, then moves to stand by his bed, waiting. You carefully step towards it. It feels like you’re intruding, forcing your way into Law’s space. But then Law lifts the blanket, and your worries fall away one by one. He’s here. And he won’t leave you. You slip in under the sheets. Law’s bed is warm, and smells like him. You lay down, then roll twice toward the wall until you feel the hard surface pressing against your back. 

He follows, easing himself back onto the bed and scooting close. You can’t see him in the darkness, but you do feel him. He sets his good arm over your shoulders, pulling you in close. His breath is warm. His skin is cold. You snuggle closer, mindful of his now casted arm. 

You can’t believe he still wants to touch you, even after knowing you killed someone. You don’t know why you want to keep him close even after he almost left you to die. Luffy and his friends, as much as Law trusts them, scare you. There is a wariness you feel around them. They don’t see you as one of their own. Not yet. Law is, but not you. 

You’ve seen what Law thinks of people he does not value. You’ve seen what he does to them in times of crisis.

But right now, with Law’s arm settling over you and your head tucked into his chest, nothing else matters. You’re safe. And Law is safe too.

You close your eyes.

A/N: STRAWHATS CAMEO‼️‼️‼️

This chapter was lowkey so hard to finish (because of this math assignment that's due TOMORROW actually killing me) but it's done! There is a possibility i'll come back and rework it in the future, but for now I'm happy with it!

This was all I had planned for the event. There's a lot that happened, and there's a lot that is going to happen in universe, but that story is for another time. I like ambiguous endings, and the image I had for the end of this story has always been something of a suspicious utopia in the middle of chaos. I also really like the concept of the strawhats being scary as shit in canon, so i played a little with that idea here.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading! There might be more to come, but that is not guaranteed. I am very busy with school and I only write for fun 😔 I have a few OC x Canon stories I've been working on (notable ones include a oneshot Cowboy AU train robbery and a longer Mafia AU mashed with a Hades and Persephone retelling, and a random Kaya centered Vampire AU that has a Law and OC cameo) (the canon character in the former two is Law. I'm just a Law fan what can i say) that I'm thinking about reworking as x Readers and posting here. Let me know if you're interested and I can make a post about them.

some lore for anyone interested: yes, the zombies are going through another mutation! What is that going to bring? only more horror! They're turning into plants with airborne spores!!!

The strawhats are in a really well reinforced compound. In my head, all the named Hearts are there too. They've got their own farm, sources of protein, etc. (TW ahead: cannibalism mention in next paragraph)

I wanted to explore the possibility of cannibalism in this AU as well but this was part of the SFW portion and cannibalism was probably pushing that line a little too far. This entire fic was probably pushing that line LOL

Either way, They're resourceful people with a lot of different skills, and some are lowkey zombie killing machines, that's why they managed to build these things and survive for so long. Zoro also has his swords. The zombie population around the camp is close to zero. If i do add onto this fic in the future, I'll probably write something about an internal threat in the camp :)))

(a threat in a very familiar form of reader)

[rbbalmung]

𝐒𝐨 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝—𝘏𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘫𝘪𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot

Synopsis: If you're gonna eat something, at least check the wrapper before putting it in your mouth.

Warnings: Aphrodisiac chocolates. SMUT 🔞. Rough Dom Roommate!Hyunjin (is mentioned to be kind of a playboy). Unprotected hard sex, hair pulling, overstim, oral (f. recieving), multiple positions, orgasms, dirty talk, cussing, filthy, degradation, creampie, cum eating, name calling & pet names, mentions of the pill, confessions, to lovers at the end. Holy hell that's a lot—

Note: To be honest, idrk how this chocolate works fr. I wrote this after seeing a few review videos and some fics I read. But again, anything works in fiction so just let it feed your delulu.

Minors do not interact!!!

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count:5.5k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Work this week sucked.

So much to the point that you were begging for the weekend to come over as soon as possible every night since Monday.

Finally it's here.

And you like a weekend without plans because then you can just go back to your apartment, slip into your PJ's and binge Netflix with a tub of ice cream for 48 hours.

Your boss—who technically wasn't your boss but the director of another department—had you running around the office like a dog the entire week which increased your urge to punch him in the face.

What was he thinking?

But like the good employee you are, you did all the tasks at hand before slipping on your coat and bag and leaving the office as fast as you could.

Man you needed something sweet to wash this headache away.

You walked into the nearest supermarket, tapping away on your phone, texting your bestie about the new concert tickets you wanna buy later tonight.

The doors slid open and you knew the aisles by heart, you walked into the candy section and grabbed a few wrapped pieces of chocolate that was on the shelf.

Oh you dumb girl, read the label.

But you couldn't care less.

You slipped your phone between your neck and shoulder calling your bestie about the tickets as you walked over to the counter with the chocolates in your hand.

You didn't even bother to spare a glance at the cashier who watched you with equal amounts of genuine shock and horror as you unwrapped a piece and shoved it into your mouth, stuffing the wrapper in the pocket of your jacket.

Everything was fine but by the time you reached your apartment, something felt… off.

Your skin felt warmer than usual, your breath a little heavier. You tugged at the collar of your shirt, frowning. Maybe the stress was finally catching up with you?

Brushing it off, you unlocked the door, stepping inside—only to freeze in your tracks.

Hyunjin—your annoyingly handsome, sexy and single roommate—was sprawled on the couch, shirtless, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, scrolling on his phone, completely oblivious to your presence.

His hair was slightly damp, probably from a recent shower, strands falling effortlessly into his eyes.

It wasn’t as if you’d never seen him like this before. Living together meant accidental glimpses of bare skin and passing each other in various states of undress.

But right now? Right now, your body reacted differently.

Your mouth went dry, your stomach coiling with something unfamiliar. Your eyes traced the lines of his toned torso, the sharp definition of his abs, the way his sweatpants hung low on his hips.

You clenched your fists at your sides.

Why did he have to look like that today, of all days?

He sensed you standing frozen near the doorway, looking up at from his phone, his lips parted in mild acknowledgment before his brows furrowed slightly.

“You good?” His voice was deep, casual, but you swore it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I—I’m fine,” you mumbled, forcing yourself to look away as you kicked off your shoes. The heat spreading through your body only intensified.

It was unbearable. Your fingers twitched, desperate for relief from an ache you barely understood.

Hyunjin’s eyes narrowed slightly as he sat up. “Are you sure? You look kinda... flushed.”

Of course, he would notice. Your annoying, perceptive roommate.

You turned away, removing your jacket and hanging it on the coat hanger, something falling out of the pocket but you didn't notice it.

“It’s just hot in here,” you muttered, heading toward the kitchen, needing something—anything—to distract yourself.

Hyunjin eyed you curiously for a few seconds, before looking back into his phone, you opened the fridge, grabbing a cold bottle of water.

You twisted off the cap with slightly trembling fingers, taking a long gulp but it didn’t help one bit. Slowly you walked into your bedroom.

Hyunjin watched you disappear into your room before something at the doorway caught the corner of his eye.

He got up and picked up the wrapper on the floor, his eyes widening before he let out a sharp laugh.

Inside your room, you were going crazy. Your body buzzed, hot and bothered. You needed release, so badly that you turned to your nightstand, looking for your favourite toy.

You got on the bed, grabbing it, attempting to turn it on, only to realise the thing was out of battery. You stared at the lifeless toy in your hands, frustration curling in your stomach.

The ache between your thighs was unbearable, a deep, throbbing need that refused to be ignored.

A sudden knock on your door made you jolt. “Yo.” Hyunjin’s voice was muffled but clear, amusement laced in his tone. “You might wanna explain why you were eating aphrodisiac chocolates without knowing.”

Your entire body went rigid. What?!

Oh you absolute idiot.

Your silence made him twist the doorknob and enter your room, only for him to see you scrambling to shove the useless toy under your pillow and your not helpful little night fit that hardened his cock in an instant.

The lacy, flower patterned camisole top did absolutely nothing to hide those peaks that were straining the fabric, your exposed collarbones and neck sparking something utterly primal in his mind.

You clenched your thighs together, hoping that he would just drop it and leave.

But of course, he didn’t.

“So…” He paused for a moment, and then, in a voice laced with wicked amusement, “How’s that working out for you?”

Your breath hitched, heat crawling up your neck as you pressed your thighs together even tighter.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammered, but the way your voice wavered completely sold you out. Hyunjin scoffed, stepping further into your room, completely unfazed by your flustered state.

He twirled the chocolate wrapper between his fingers, holding it up like evidence. “Really?”

He tilted his head, eyes dragging over your body, taking in the way your chest rose and fell rapidly, how your hands clenched into the sheets like you were fighting against your own urges.

Yeah, you were struggling.

He leaned down, so close you could count every lash of his beautiful eyes and feel his breath hover over your flushed face.

The scent of his skin, clean, fresh out of the shower, mixed with something undeniably him, invaded your senses, making your head spin.

You swallowed hard, refusing to look at him. But then, he reached up and traced a finger along your jaw, tilting your face toward him.

His voice dropped, smooth like silk. “Tell me what you need.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “I don’t need—”

“Liar.” His breath ghosted over your lips. You whimpered. Goddamn him.

"All you have to do is ask. If not, I'll just let you be and you can stay till it wears off." He said simply, shrugging while playing a devilish smirk on his lips.

You looked at him with glassy eyes, clogged throat and aching need throbbing between your legs that you seemed to intensify with every passing second.

Sensing your hesitation, Hyunjin got up before your hand wrapped around his wrist. He looked down at the contact then at your face which was now flushed hot, slight goosebumps pebbling your skin.

It's not that you didn't want him. God how couldn't you not want him?

It was a secret you'd take to your grave but the amount of times you've found yourself getting jealous of the girls who spent nights with him was countless.

You often wondered how—what—it would be like to feel him. All of him.

His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair off your face as he leaned down again. "Tell me what you want Y/N." he murmured, voice dangerously low.

"T—touch me Hyunjin."

His restraint snapped.

Before another breath could make it past your lungs, his mouth was on yours, your back against the headboard as his hands pressed on either side of your head.

His knees straddled you as you pushed forward, giving him plenty of access to claim you right there with the press of his lips alone, letting him slip his tongue through yours, kissing you hard, fast and desperate.

Hyunjin's hand wrapped around the edge of the blanket that was covering you beneath the waist, he yanked it away and no amount of restraint prepared him to see you completely bare underneath it.

"No panties..." he half threw the blanket, it dropped on the floor. "You're gorgeous when you're needy."

Hyunjin exhaled against your lips, his hair brushing against your cheek. His touch was all-consuming, his presence overwhelming in the best way possible.

Your breath broke when his slender fingers slid between your legs. He teased them along your entrance, collecting the wetness before sliding up to your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

You arched into him, a whimper slipping past your lips. “Look at you. You're soaked.” he murmured, eyes gleaming with something dark and possessive.

"Please...I..." you let out a breathy moan.

He dipped his head down following your plea, his breath ghosting over you. “I bet you taste as sweet as that chocolate.”

And then, without warning, his tongue flicked out, dragging through your folds in one slow, deliberate motion.

A strangled moan left your lips, your thighs clamping around his head, but Hyunjin only groaned in response, gripping your legs and pinning them against your chest.

And then you were taken to the heavens with his tongue alone.

He worked so expertly, licking and flicking, sucking and worshipping your cunt like it was the end of the world.

His teeth grazed your tender, erect clit and you bucked up, pushing your needy pussy up his face coating him in your arousal.

Every new spot he hit sent you spiralling, the noisy slurps mixing with your loud whimpers echoing off the walls like a sinful symphony.

Your hands found the way to his hair, wanting him closer, harder, faster until you couldn't breathe, until you couldn't think, just letting him give you everything he could do with his mouth.

It was hot, devastating, mind blowing, the way he ate you out like no tomorrow, the coil growing tighter and faster with each lick.

Hyunjin pulled back with a wet sound, his chin glistening. "You taste so fucking good, baby."

His fingers replaced his tongue, sliding inside you with ease, stretching you open as he scissored them, curling just right against your sweet spot while his lips wrapped around your clit.

"Fuck—Hyunjin—" Your hips bucked against his hand, chasing that friction, that high.

His long digits moved in and out, the squelching sounds spasming out of your cunt as he continued speeding up.

"Greedy little thing," he chuckled, adding a third finger. "You like being stuffed full, huh?"

You couldn't answer, couldn't form a thought. Your walls clenched around his fingers, your stomach tightening, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak.

"You're close, aren't you?" Hyunjin mused, pressing a kiss to your thigh as his fingers moved faster. "Go on, make a mess on my hand."

With a broken moan, your body tensed, pleasure crashing over you in waves. Your walls pulsed around his fingers, a pool of liquid gushed out as he kept moving, working and drowning through your ecstasy until you were trembling.

He groaned, pulling his fingers out, watching as your arousal coated them. He brought them to his lips, sucking them clean with a satisfied hum.

You watched him, catching your breath, not even halfway through before you got up and straddled him, your wet cunt landing on top of his now visible, hard bulge.

His fingers dug into your hips, holding against him as your hot breath fanned over his skin.

"I, I can't—fuck me— please."

His devilish grin grew wider. "You sure you won't regret it later baby?" He cooed but your brain was too fogged with lust, the chocolate you consumed now working on full power.

You grinded his clothed cock, letting your juices stain his sweats and his head fell back at the feeling.

Within a heartbeat, your camisole was lost and his sweatpants were gone, his arm scooped around your waist, guiding your body to meet his cock that was jutting up.

You sank in one smooth push of his hips, but had to force your walls to adjust to the sheer size of him, the tip of his long, veiny cock touching the sensitive spot in you that made you throw your head back, digging your nails into his shoulders.

You rocked your hips back and forth, meeting his upward thrusts as his lips connected with your bouncing breast, the other getting playing and kneaded under his big hand.

You rode him, chasing another orgasm, whimpering and moaning while he sucked on your breast, letting the sensitive bud end up swollen, slick and sore.

"Fuck yes, ride that dick like the slut you are," he gasped, releasing the peak with a pop!, holding your waist tight enough to leave marks that would last for days.

He filled you in the most delicious way ever, your gummy walls clamping him, driving every single logical sense out of his brain.

His thumb pressed on your chin as he cupped your face, touching his lips with yours, kissing you roughly but equally smoothly as you kept rolling your hips on top of him.

"Ha—oh god, Hyun—oh fu...I love your cock."

Your words were filthy, mind so clouded with lust that it sounded coherent to your ears.

Hyunjin's hand that was on your waist held you and pushed you on to your back, before pulling out and flipping you on your stomach, tangling your hair in one tight fist before he slammed into you in one punishing thrust.

He pulled your hair back, his other hand going down to cup your breast, pinching the erect peak. The pleasure of it all overlapped with pain as he continued to thrust into you with hard strokes again and again, your hands fisting the sheets below.

"You're such a fucking slut. With a pussy so tight." he slammed hard right as a stinging slap! landed on your ass that made you cry out loud. "I should have fucked you way earlier than this."

Did he perhaps eat the other piece of chocolate? Maybe he did—

Everything around ceased to exist in that moment, only the rhythmic sound of flesh against flesh, headboard banging against the wall and the loudest moans that were for sure to be heard by your neighbours filling the sex fogged air.

It was like that sweet—oh so you thought, 'didn't check the wrapper', harmless—chocolate dug through your senses bringing out carnal urges you never knew existed.

It wasn't not enough and too much to bear all at once.

Your face fell in the pillows as you let out a muffled scream when he hit that spot that shattered you into shards, making you flood around him.

He was close to snapping too, but he prided himself so much that he wasn't going to come until he's had you so utterly spent till you can't take it anymore.

His grip on your hair loosened, pulling back just till the velvet tip remained in your entrance. Just as you thought he was about to pull out entirely, his hands wrapped around your wrists, pinning them to your back as he slammed back into you once more.

"Don't think you're done yet you cockdrunk slut. I'm not stopping till I decide you've had enough. Got it?" He growled and you nodded senselessly against the pillows, sweat coating your bodies as he regained his pace.

You gasped up, needing air, breathing erratically as he pounded into you harder and harder—slam, slam, slam—your ass meeting with stinging slap!, slap!, slap!, skin now sore and red.

Tears ran down your cheeks relentlessly as he held your hands behind your back, continuing to fucking you from the behind.

You were never that into hardcore, rough sex but right now under the arms and getting wrecked by your 'how could he be single?' roommate and the effect of the aphrodisiac running through your veins, you wanted nothing but for him to just destroy you.

You didn't need to cry it out loud. Your aching, quivering body, greedy pussy basically engulfing his thick rod gave it away to him.

That small piece of candy was too powerful for its size. (Or maybe it's been quite while since you were fucked so good).

Right as you were about to come for the third time, he let go of your wrists, pulling out and turning you over, resting your legs on his shoulders and sank into you again.

He was so deep in, you could have sworn you felt him up your throat. You rasped his name, but he was so lost in the way your pussy swallowed his huge length that he lost all the sense in his brain.

He was consumed by the urge to just wreck your cunt and rearrange your guts.

"F—canf—Hyun, ah! More—!"

You were blabbering nonsense, your needy self just begging him to give you more and more.

"You're taking me so well," he praised, his grip tightening as he snapped his hips faster and deeper.

You clenched around him that made him hiss and come, making him spill his release in you before he could even process the thought of pulling out.

You felt his warm seed gather up inside you, painting you white, the continuous twitching of his cock making him pause and gently ease himself out, a long sticky string of his cum attaching from his tip on to your hole.

He watched as his release dripped from your spent core, his jaw clenching. "Fuck. Look at that."

You were completely wrecked—limbs heavy and body shaking. Hyunjin pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Hope you’re ready for round two, baby."

All that was round one?!

Because from the way his cock was already hardening again, you knew he wasn’t done with you yet.

Your eyes widened slightly, breath hitching as Hyunjin smirked down at you. He traced circles over your stomach before dipping lower, spreading your thighs wider.

His fingers brushed over your swollen clit, making you jolt, a whimper escaping your lips. "Hyunjin—" you gasped.

He hushed you with a kiss, deep and lazy, his tongue gliding against yours. "You can take one more for me, can’t you?" He whispered against your mouth.

Your body screamed in protest and anticipation at the same time. The aphrodisiac hadn’t fully worn off yet, leaving you sweaty, hot and needy despite your exhaustion.

You moaned breathlessly as Hyunjin guided himself back to your entrance, rubbing the tip against your hypersensitive core, teasing you.

"Please," you whispered, surprising even yourself with how desperate you sounded. He groaned, positioning himself at your channel again. "Good girl."

And then he pushed in.

The stretch was more intense this time, your walls still tight and sensitive from the last round. He took his time, slow and deep, groaning as he bottomed out inside you.

He rolled his hips gentler, dragging against your puffy walls, making you shudder beneath him. A salacious white ring formed around the base of his shaft, his huge hand sprawled over your tummy, massaging your skin, he could feel the bulge of his cock over your stomach.

The pleasure was overwhelming, crashing in ways beyond euphoria.

Your legs wrapped around him, heels digging into his ass forcing him in deeper until you felt the fat cockhead brush against your cervix. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and the moan you let out was borderline pornographic.

"Gonna make you come again," he gasped, as he continued his pace. "Will you come for me again sweetheart?"

His thrusts quickened, his grip tightening on your hips as he lost himself in you. Your nails raked down his back, desperate for something to hold onto as the pleasure built again just through his words.

"Come baby," he whispered, his hand pressing down harder on your stomach and then circled your clit, sending you spiraling into another release.

You screamed his name, your entire body arching as the climax ripped through you, leaving you trembling and reeling beneath him. His pace faltered, hips snapping erratically before he spilled inside you, filling and stuffing his load in you for the second time that night.

You gripped his muscled back as he fell on top of you, warm and comforting, both of you panting, drenched in sweat, breaths ragged and heavy.

Then, after a second of stretched silence, Hyunjin slowly lifted himself, gazing down at you. "You okay?" he murmured, brushing damp hair away from your face.

You nodded weakly, body still buzzing. Hyunjin pressed a kiss to your forehead before slipping out of you with a groan. He watched as his release seeped out from your drilled hole, and his jaw clenched.

"Fuck," he muttered, shaking his head. "I should clean you up."

You expected him to grab a towel and wipe you, but instead, he lowered himself between your legs again.

Before you could form his name, his tongue was on you, lapping up his own release, licking you clean with slow, precise strokes.

Your body jerked in overstimulation, but Hyunjin held you down, his grip firm as he cleaned every drop, humming in satisfaction.

Only when he was done did he finally pull away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You taste even sweeter mixed with me," he mused, grinning as he climbed back up.

He watched you as he let you catch a breath after the intense fucking, you could feel the frantic blood rush, your core pulsing and a drip of slick running down out of your pussy.

Hyunjin's hand cupped your cheek softly before he asked lowly.

"Are you on the pill?"

Even if he used condoms with other girls he has fucked with, for some reason he always asked them that question. But the mere idea of protection didn't cross either of your minds tonight.

You gave a jerky shake of your head. "I...I stopped..."

He watched you, chest rising and falling, in now even breaths, eyes softening.

"Okay, don't worry. Sleep now. Let's talk in the morning."

He ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair, pulling the blanket over your body, turning on the AC, reaching down to brush his lips on your closing eyelids, exhaling sharply as he walked out of your room.

His body was still buzzing from everything that had happened, but his mind was clouded with thoughts.

Without letting another creep up his head, he walked to the bathroom, turning on the water, taking the coldest shower, closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead against the cold tiles.

***

The soft glow of the morning light seeped through the curtains, as you slowly stirred awake.

A dull ache pulsed between your legs, spreading through your thighs, and it took you a moment to register why.

Then it hit you.

The remnants of last night came back in flashes—the aphrodisiac chocolates, the way your body burned with unbearable heat, and… Hyunjin.

Your breath caught as the memories flooded back. The way he touched you. The way he took you. His dirty words and sweet praises.

You groaned, sitting up, feeling the slight stickiness between your legs. You looked down at your body, skin around your hips peppered with his fingerprint bruises, swollen nipples with a faint hickey on your breast.

Heat crept up your face at the realization. You slept with your roommate.

God...What happens now?

Before you could dwell on it too long, the door creaked open.

You glanced up, eyes widening slightly as Hyunjin stepped in. He was wearing a loose white tank top and black sweats, his hair tied in a mini ponytail. In his hands, he carried a tray.

Your heart stuttered at the sight.

You flushed as you felt him gaze at you, you pulled the sheets over your chest, suddenly feeling shy as if he hadn't already seen everything by now.

"Morning," he greeted casually, setting the tray on your nightstand. His gaze flickered to you, scanning your face for any signs of distress.

"How do you feel?"

You swallowed hard, glancing quickly at the tray before meeting his eyes. "Sore."

His lips quirked slightly. "Yeah... not surprised."

Heat rushed up your spine.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers drummed lightly against his thigh before he gestured to the tray.

“I made you breakfast. Figured you’d need the energy after last night.”

You glanced at the tray—toast, berries, coffee… and a small blister pack. Your stomach clenched at the sight of the morning-after pill.

Your fingers tightened around the blanket as you looked back up at him. "You think I should take it?" you asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly. "It's your choice. But I wanted you to have the option. Whatever you decide, I’ll be here.”

Something in his tone made your chest tighten. You couldn’t quite place it. Was it regret? Reassurance? Maybe a mix of both.

You hesitated but then took the pack, popping the pill into your mouth, washing it down with water before setting the glass aside and reaching for the coffee.

Silence stretched between you two.

Then, Hyunjin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “So… are we gonna talk about this?”

You set the mug down on your nightstand, glancing up at him. “Do we need to?”

His jaw tensed, but he nodded. “Yeah. We do.”

You swallowed. “Hyunjin, it was just the chocolate. That’s why it happened.”

His brows twitched slightly, and for a split second, you thought you saw something like disappointment flash across his face. But it was gone before you could process it.

“Right,” he said, voice carefully neutral. “Just the chocolate.” You weren’t sure why his reaction bothered you.

He let out a half frustration sigh, a faint tsk leaving his lips as he got up to walk towards the door.

You yanked away the blanket, ignoring the light sting in your crotch before he left completely, wrapping your arms around his middle making him freeze.

You pressed the side of your head against his back, heart pounding behind your ribcage.

"Tell me you don't feel the same and we can let this go like it never happened."

Hyunjin looked down at your arms around his body then glanced over his shoulder to look at you. His jaw clenched.

His fingers twitched at his sides, like he was fighting the urge to hold you back. Silence stretched between you both, thick with something unsaid.

Finally, he exhaled, turning to you fully. His voice was low when he spoke, almost cautious.

“Do you really want me to say that?” he asked, voice lower than before.

Your throat felt tight.

Yes. No. You didn’t know.

Your fingers twitched against his shirt, gripping the fabric. “Just say it, Hyunjin.” His fingers sunk into your hair before he exhaled, the weight of his breath brushing against your forehead.

“I can’t,” he admitted.

Your chest constricted, the world around you growing small, only his piercing gaze and the cold air making you shiver.

He unclasped your hold, turning to your clothes rack and grabbed your robe, covering you up.

Why does he do this? Why is he doing this?

"Why didn't you tell me what you felt?" He asked cupping your face, thumb grazing your cheek. His eyes searched for yours, brows furrowing slightly as if he was trying to piece a puzzle he should have solved long ago.

Your arms wrapped around yourself, fingers gripping the fabric of your robe. "Because it never mattered." you mumbled.

Hyunjin's jaw ticked. "That's not an answer."

"Every time I thought about saying something, about asking if we were more than just roommates, I'd hear you come home late after a date," you admitted, your voice shaking. "And then not long after, I'd hear...them..."

Hyunjin's lips pressed into a thin line. You didn't need to elaborate more. He knew exactly what you meant.

The walls of this apartment weren't thick enough to drown out the sounds of the women he brought over. The laughter, the muffled words, the occasional soft moans that cut through the night like a blade straight to your heart.

So you never said anything. Because it was obvious to you. Hyunjin would never have feelings for you.

While he was out dating, bringing girls home, moving on with his life, you had been stuck. Stuck wanting something you knew you could never have.

Hyunjin inhaled deeply, his fingers twitching against your cheek before he finally asked, "Does it still bother you?"

You hesitated. He waited.

You could simply lie. Say that it was because of the chocolate, that last night was a mistake and go back to how things were before. But your heart, your dumb heart screamed at you to be honest.

So you nodded gently, biting your lip.

He sucked in a sharp, low breath, his hand dropping from your face as he took a step back, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip, processing your words.

"I see," he murmured.

The air between you felt thick. Too thick and heavy.

“I was trying to forget you.”

His words hit you like a slap. You blinked. “What?”

Hyunjin let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think I wanted them?” He glanced at you, eyes dark. “I brought them home because I needed a distraction. Because every time I looked at you, I knew I couldn’t have you.”

Your stomach dropped. “What are you talking about?” you whispered.

His jaw tightened. “I caught feelings first,” he admitted.

“A long time ago. But I thought you only saw me as a roommate, as a friend. And if I told you, if I ruined everything, then what? If you didn’t feel the same, what would happen?”

He exhaled sharply. “So I tried to forget. I went on dates, I let them stay the night. But it never worked.”

Your breath was shaky now.

"Hyun," you started but he let out a quiet scoff, shaking his head. Before you could blink, his mouth crashed on yours, hungry and desperate, as if he was scared you're going to vanish away if he lets go.

You melted into his mouth, letting out what was like a quiet sigh of relief, until you pulled away, the gentle "ch" sound escaping your departing lips, trembling against his hold.

"Can I be yours?" He asked, the question slipping past him as if he had been holding it in forever. Your eyes widened, his words echoing in your heart before it reached your head.

"You..." your words clogged in your throat.

He smiled the softest smile you've ever seen radiate off him. "Yeah," he nodded. "Can I be your boyfriend?"

Of all the things you expected to happen after last night, this was never one of them.

Could he?

Could he be yours?

His gaze softened when you stayed silent, thinking of your answer. "I'm not asking because of what we did yesterday or because I want you to forget what I did before." He murmured, his voice filled with honesty.

"I'm asking because I want you," he continued, his fingers grazing your jaw, grounding you in the weight of his words.

"Not just for a night. Not just because of that chocolate. I want you because...it's always been you."

Your eyes welled, the sincerity in his voice made your heart ache.

The answer had always been there, buried beneath the stolen glances, the lingering touches, the unspoken jealousy. Beneath every time your heart clenched when you saw him with someone else.

And now you were standing here, with Hyunjin telling you he had been feeling just as much as you had.

You swallowed hard, then nodded smiling. “I want you too.”

Relief flooded his face, followed by something brighter and softer. He let out a breathy laugh, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Yeah? You do?” he repeated, almost teasing.

You huffed, the corners of your lips curling. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Hyunjin didn’t need to hear it twice.

His hands cupped your face, his eyes glimmering with something new that made your chest bloom with warmth.

Then, his lips found yours again.

This time, the kiss wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t rushed or fleeting. It was slow, sweet, as if he was memorizing you, promising something without words.

You sighed into him, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer and closer, until there was no space left between you.

Hyunjin’s thumb brushed over your lips. “I guess we’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.”

You smiled, tilting your chin up. “I guess we do.”

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Ivyy

[rbbalmung]

Not Her, but You

First actual post here. I definitely will be making more one-shots for each character. If you have any requests, please feel free to let me know. Or you can criticize if you feel tangy enough. Both are good. 👍

Bruno Mars was on loop the whole time making this, by the way.

It had been a few months since you and Lupin had made it official. The chemistry between you was undeniable—unstoppable, even. Things between you had been great—exciting, thrilling, and yet stable. Your relationship had grown in unexpected ways, with each passing day only solidifying the bond you shared. You had never imagined yourself dating someone any time soon, much less with someone like Lupin. However, the longer you two spent together, the more you found yourself drawn to him. His charm, his wit, the way he always seemed to be in control—it all worked, and it had found a rhythm, a kind of balance, that neither you two had experienced before.

You had always known that Lupin’s past was full of adventure, romance, and past relationships. But nothing could have prepared you for the conversation Jigen and Goemon were having late at night. You had left the room you shared with Lupin, sneeking past both of them trying to grab a glass of water. Somehow you were able to bypass them without them knowing you had entered. They had been sitting on a couch in an old cabin, talking about Lupin’s past heists, when they started sharing stories about his ex-lover, Fujiko. The way they spoke of her, the admiration Lupin had for her, the laughter, the moments of tension—it all seemed so vivid to them, so important to Lupin. It wasn’t just stories of their past; it was as if they were remembering an era in time that was special.

“Man, I can’t believe Lupin finally moved on from Fujiko.” Jigen had remarked with a cigarette in his mouth.

Goemon, ever the stoic one, had only nodded. “Yeah, I thought for sure he’d be chasing after her forever. You know how much she meant to him.”

Jigen leaned back on the couch, a chuckle escaping his lips. “Yeah, I remember the times. All the crazy things he did to impress her. Like that time he… what was it again? Stole the crown jewels of Monaco just to win her favor?”

“Yeah, and the way she would toy with him,” Goemon added, a hint of amusement in his normally serious voice. “I think Lupin was more of a pawn in her games than anything else.”

You were frozen, your mind spinning with their words, the implications. You had known about Fujiko, of course—Lupin had never made a secret about this. You never had any problems the days she showed up. She was definitely beautiful, a beauty any man or woman admires. She was surprising kind towards you as well. You had seen the way she talked towards the others and it was not nearly as close to the way she was with you.

It had taken Jigen a couple of days to get familiar with you and Goemon just a few more. They had honestly thought you were just some sort of fling that would last for a week. Someone Lupin would try to impress and spoil. As you appeared more every week, the more they realized how serious Lupin was with you.

You had always known Lupin had a complicated relationship with Fujiko, but hearing it from Jigen and Goemon and the stories they reminisced triggered a deep insecurity. Could you ever live up to the memory of someone so important to him? Were you just a distraction, a brief detour in his ongoing obsession with Fujiko?

You tried to brush it aside, but the seed of insecurity had been planted. Fujiko was more than a rival; she was the one Lupin couldn’t quit, no matter how many times she played him, betrayed him, or left him. You couldn’t escape the feeling that, in Lupin’s heart, she would always be a shadow—someone he would never truly forget. You quickly left and walked back to the bedroom, not realizing that Jigen and Goemon had been talking about how different, yet honorable you were rather than Lupin's past taste in women.

For the first few days, you found yourself avoided Lupin’s gaze. Other moments, you kept your distance with him, making sure you were at least a few feet away from Lupin. As the days went by, you had become increasingly distant. You would make excuses to avoid Lupin. You had made the excuse saying you weren’t feeling well. He responded saying he would gladly take care of you. You panicked and said that you had something worse than just a stomach bug and it was best to distance yourself for now. You packed your essentials with some cash and decided to check in to a hotel for now. Lupin decided to visit you regardless. When he had arrived to your house, you were no where to be found. He knew there was something up with you now.

He had never been particularly serious about anyone before—at least, not in the way he was with you. He was certain that his feelings for you were genuine and not some sort of lust driven craziness. But now, with you pulling away, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something he wasn’t seeing. Lupin decided to take matters in his own hands.

A week had passed since and he decided to call you to take you out to dinner. You had made another excuse saying your friend got injured in a severe accident and needed help. Little to your knowledge, the whole phone call had been a set up. With the help of Jigen, he was able to track down the location of your phone with just one call. Lupin wasted no time and rushed over to your location.

It didn’t take him long to arrive at the hotel you were currently staying. He approached the door and knocked. His knock was firm, but not aggressive. A few moments passed before the door swung open. You stood there, eyes wide, surprised to see him standing there with a grin. “Did someone call for room service?” He said teasingly.

“What are you doing here, Lupin?” Your voice was cautious, guarded. Lupin stepped inside the room and inspected it. There had been a few tissues on the ground. The bed was undone and the curtains almost covered the window, making the room slightly dim. Something that caught his eye was the giant bottle of liquor sitting on the nightstand. It was nearly finished. Something was definitely up and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

“I think you know why I’m here,” Lupin said, his voice laced with determination. You closed the door behind you. He turned around to look at you. Your face was slightly flushed. You weren't sure if it was because you had been caught red-handed or if the alcohol was slowly kicking in. His brows furrowed. “You're making excuses every time I try to see you.”

Your stomach twisted as your eyes flicked away from his. You didn’t want to admit the truth and confront your insecurities. You bit your lip, shifting on your feet. “No, I’ve just been... feeling under the weather,” you said weakly, hoping he’d drop it.

But Lupin wasn’t fooled. He placed his hands inside the pocket of his dress pants, standing his ground. “If pops ever caught you, he could easily see through the lies you make when being interrogated. There’s something you aren’t telling me and I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s really going on.”

You hesitated. You didn’t want to tell him what had been bothering you, but the weight of the truth was already pulling you down. You were unsure of how to explain the knot of insecurity twisting in your chest. You wanted to say something, anything, to make sense of what you were feeling. You took a deep breath and looked away, not wanting to see his reaction. “It’s just... you and Fujiko,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lupin’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Fujiko?”

You nodded, your insecurity growing. “You and her... you were so... close. I just—” Your voice trembled as you spoke. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol that helped you open up so easily or the bottled up emotions that were hidden for so long. “I know you and her had something. You were... close. I can’t help but feel like I’m just... not enough. I feel like a distraction for you, Lupin.”  

Lupin’s eyes softened with understanding. His puzzled look slowly vanishing as you spoke. He hadn’t seen this side of you before—this vulnerability, this quiet fear that you would never measure up. He took your hand, his thumb brushing the back of your palm. “You are no Fujiko, I’ll tell you that.” You felt your heart squeeze as you heard those words come out of his mouth. “You two are complete opposites, like Fire and Water. Sure the fire can be hot to the touch and mesmerizing to look at, but I think the water is mesmerizing to look at as well and doesn’t cause chaos wherever it goes.”

“Gee, thanks for that comparison.” You pulled away from his grip and walked over to your bed, sitting on the edge. Lupin followed and sat right next to you. “I just... I don’t feel like I can compare to her. Hell, I am not like her. I’m not... as clever as she is, or as beautiful... I’m just... not enough.”

You continued to rant to him about your insecurities. Lupin sat there as your words were sinking in. He never knew how badly it had affected you. He was very observant about every little detail that came his way. Why couldn’t he have seen the signs before? His only conclusion was that he was too preoccupied these past weeks to see and plan the next big heist.

Lupin was silent before he reached out for your hand again, gently pulling it toward him. His touch was warm, tender, as if trying to reassure you without words. But he didn’t speak. Instead, he leaned in and kissed the back of your hand, letting his lips linger on your soft skin. He felt the tremor in your hand, the uncertainty running through you.

He continued to kiss your hand softly over and over again. You immediately stopped talking as you looked at his gesture. You raised your eyebrow in confusion. “What are you doing?” You asked as you pulled your hand away from him again.

“Reassuring you.” He replied to your question. He grabbed your hand once more and placed a kiss on your palm, holding it there for a moment. He could feel your pulse racing under his lips.

“I’m not like her,” You sighed, your frustration bubbling. You felt as if Lupin wasn’t taking it seriously. “I’m not as clever, as beautiful, as... unforgettable as she is. I can’t compete with that, not even that close.” You spat, your voice filled with bitterness. Lupin started to trail kisses up your arm all the way to your shoulders. 

Lupin was determined to show you how wrong you were, began kissing your collarbone, his lips grazing across your skin. He moved further up and lifted your chin. He started trailing kisses over your neck and towards your jaw. You started to get irritated and placed your hands on his shoulders trying to push him away. “Stop it, Lupin. I need you to listen to me.”

He placed kiss on your forehead, in between your eyebrows, then your nose. “How about you don't focus on her? Focus on us, on right now.” He kissed your cheek, your other cheek, then your chin. Each kiss was a promise to him, a reassurance that you were the only one in his heart.

“I can't,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I just-“ Lupin didn’t let you finish as he placed a soft kiss on your lips. You were caught off guard by this. Lupin always managed to catch you off guard no matter what. His lips brushed against yours with such care. It was soft and tender, as if he wanted you to open up. You were hesitant, but gave in to the kiss slowly. You pulled away a bit after. “Lupin, I need to—”

His lips came down on yours again, this time slow and deliberate. His tongue tracing the line of your bottom lip before slipping past it. You gasped, the sensation of his tongue against yours sending a rush of heat through your body. Your hands grasped his shoulders, pulling him closer, but at the same time, your mind screamed at to say something—to stop this before it went too far.

“Lupin, stop... I’m trying to—”You tried to pull away. Your frustration rising each second, but so did a strange thrill. “Lupin, I—” But Lupin was already kissing you again, his mouth firm, overpowering yours. You tried to push him away, but it was no use.

Your hands instinctively pushed against his chest, but Lupin wasn’t giving you space. His hands slid around your waist, pushing you down on the bed slowly. He didn’t break the connection as he towered over you, placing his legs on each side, pinning you in place. “I’m going to kiss you until you can't think anymore.” He said with a grin. 

“Lupin, I’m serious!” You tried to pushed him again, but your words were lost in a fierce kiss. Each kiss he gave you, felt more demanding than the previous one. Your frustration mixed with something else.

You were annoyed—annoyed that he kept interrupting you, annoyed that he wasn’t letting you say what was on your mind. But there was also something irresistibly endearing about it. Lupin wasn’t giving you the chance to doubt, to voice your insecurities. He was showing you instead—showing you just how much he loves and cares about you.

He grinned into your mouth, that devilish spark in his eyes. “I don’t think you are. I think you just want me to kiss you.” His voice was low, teasing, as if he knew exactly what was going on in your mind. Another kiss, this one softer, as he nipped at your bottom lip before pulling back just enough to smirk. He gave you that grin that made your heart do flips. His voice was full of that teasing charm that it made you weak in the knees every time. “I told you, I’m going to kiss you until you stop worrying about Fuji-cakes. Besides, I think it’s working, so why stop?”

You couldn’t help but laugh—a soft, breathless chuckle that escaped your lips. "You’re unbelievable," you muttered against his mouth, your hands now resting on his chest. You felt your body start to respond, the heat between you two rising with every second. Your breath coming faster as each kiss became deep. You couldn’t deny him anymore. The passion, the heat, the connection—it was undeniable and Lupin wasn’t planning on stopping.

Lupin simply grinned against your lips, his eyes glinting with mischief. “And you’re still talking," he whispered against your mouth, before kissing you again. His lips were softer now, almost teasing, like he was savoring the moment, drawing it out longer.

A smile was creeping onto your face as you fought to catch your breath. “I’m going to kill you for this,” you murmured, but your words were slurred.

Lupin smiled, his lips hovering just over yours, his voice barely above a whisper. “I doubt that because I know you’re enjoying this too much.”

His lips crashed against yours again, the kiss no longer soft or playful. The kiss grew more urgent, more desperate, more raw and full of hunger. It was if both of you were trying to make up for the lost time these past weeks. Lupin’s hands worked their way down to your hips. his touch possessive yet gentle, as though he were trying to tell you everything without saying a word. You responded in kind, your hands on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. You felt your frustration slip away as you gave up, your resistance crumbling in the face of his kiss.

For a moment, there was nothing else—no past, no insecurities, no ghosts of people who had come before. There was only the quiet, overwhelming presence of the person in front of you.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your faces inches apart, foreheads lightly resting against one another. Your chest rose and fell in quick succession, your heart racing as you tried to process the flood of emotions rushing through you.

Lupin’s eyes were soft, intense, his breath mingling with hers. “Y/n,” he said softly, his voice a low rasp, “you don’t have to be perfect. In fact, I happen to love just about every little thing about you. It's what really makes me crazy about you. I just need you to be here with me.”

You looked deep into his eyes. Lupin was a known to be a flirt everywhere he goes. He can say just about anything to get a woman's knees weak. When you had met Lupin, he tried every trick in the book to make you swoon. Some worked, others not so much. You would never admit it, but you did enjoy the attention he threw your way. However, what made you fall deep was how caring and loving he could be behind his ego and charm. Whether if it was in the moment or behind closed doors, he appreciated you like if you were on of rarest treasure in the planet.

And in that moment, you understood. It wasn’t about being anyone other than who you were. It wasn’t about competing with anyone from the past. It was about this—about what was happening now, between you. A connection that couldn’t be denied.

With a small, shaky breath, you leaned in again, this time with no hesitation. You had let yourself be pulled into the kiss, into the warmth of Lupin’s embrace, into the present. The world outside didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was this moment, this quiet, intimate space that had carved out for yourselves. He pulled away with a genuine smile on his face.

"How about I take you to that dinner I talked about earlier? You can get ready here and I will wait right here for you." Lupin commented as one of his hand reached over to play with your hair. "By the looks of your hair, I can tell you need a shower." He teased.

You smack his shoulder as you chuckled. When you had agreed, both of you got up from the bed. He strolled over to the couch in the corner of the hotel as you walked over to the closet and pulled out a towel. You headed towards the bathroom, only to turn around to look at him. You had a smile, but your eyes clearly hinted something more. "Join me?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

[rbbalmung]

BF! SKZ finding out you've never cum

Pairing: OT8 x Reader Warnings: Explicit content! MDNI WC: 5200

Bang Chan:

“Oh really?” he asks, ears going red. He looks away, staring at the ceiling before glancing back at you. “Never?” you shook your head. He tongues the inside of his cheek and you fidget under his sudden intense gaze. 

“Do you wanna…” you bite your lip, thinking for a moment. “Would you want to help me try?” His eyes go wide for a second before looking at you. 

“You want me to?” he asks, shy. You nod your head and press your thighs together. 

Your boyfriend is hot. There’s no denying that fact, even now as he sits across from you in a black tank top and a pair of grey sweats. Even without trying, he’s effortlessly sexy. Though the relationship is new, you aren’t a stranger to makeout sessions and Chan, well it’s just in his nature to walk around and sleep naked. So, even though this would be your first time… you’ve wanted him. Craved his touch from the first moment he kissed you. So when he asks “Are you sure?” You don’t even hesitate before answering “Yes.” 

He pulls you to his chest. You immediately get chills as you feel his breath on your neck, your back pressed against his front. You can feel the sizeable bulge in his sweats pressed against you and as much as you want to press against it, to turn this onto him, when his hand snakes down your front you throw your head back and focus on the pleasure he’s giving you. His mouth is on your jaw and your neck and long gone is that shy act–you know exactly who you’re dealing with now. The man who isn’t afraid to take his shirt off on stage. The man who shamelessly flirts with Stays. 

“You already look so pretty for me,” he says into your ear. You can tell he’s smiling without looking at him. “I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already so wrecked for me?” You nod fervently as he hikes your shirt up, revealing you to him. “Say stop at any time,” he tells you with a kiss. The ever-caring lover you’ve fallen in love with, even when at his sexiest can’t not check in with you. He makes you watch every movement, every flick of his hand against your nipples. His warm breath and tongue against your skin, the absolutely filthy words he whispers in your ears when you aren’t looking him in the eyes. 

It feels so natural when his hand connects with your core and you’re already soaking wet. It takes him by surprise and he almost pulls his hands out of your shorts but you close your thighs around him, needy and desperate for his touch. 

“Please,” you say, looking up and blinking at him. You can tell a comment is on the tip of his tongue, something about you being so wet or needy for him but you silence him with a kiss. His deft, knobby fingers slide into you then and he smirks, smirks at the effect he has on you. His fingers are long, skillful in the way that every touch is purposeful. He reaches spots that you couldn’t possibly reach with your own fingers and he touches your body as if he has memorized every inch of you already. 

“Chris,” you whine, and that affects him in ways you don’t even know. You can feel him grow even harder behind you and he even ruts his hips into your back, groaning at the friction. He focuses on you though, one hand snaking up to rest on your neck. 

You’re close. You’re close and he knows it and he touches you now with the intent of getting you to finish. He whispers and groans the filthiest shit in your ear until you’re burning up, absolutely flushed from all the things he tells you he wants to do to you. 

You’re not surprised with how little effort it takes for him to push you over the edge. You pulse around his fingers as he keeps the same pace. He made you cum and he didn’t even have to take off your pants. You’re impressed but you know he would never take the compliment, that he would brush it off and turn red as if he didn’t just wreck you. He pulls his fingers from your center once you’ve come down from your high, sticking them into his mouth and moaning around his fingers. 

“God that was hot,” he laughs. 

You throw your arm over your face in embarrassment and he showers your face with kisses. 

His arms tighten around you and he rocks you back and forth, giddy until you’re both a giggling mess. 

Lee Know:

“Ahhh,” he nods. “I see.” He looks at you and where his hands rest underneath your shirt, playing with the hem. He thinks for a moment, biting his lip as he thinks of a way that he can help you without making you uncomfortable. An idea pops in his head and he looks at you and smirks, eyes dark with mischief. 

He spreads his legs then, his muscular thighs straining the fabric of his jeans. You would be blind to not notice the large bulge straining for some relief but he tsks and guides your vision to his face. You go red-hot from being caught staring and he all but coos, grabbing your waist so that you’re straddling one, muscular thigh. 

“Min–” 

“You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he prefaces and he blows a strand of hair away from his face. God he’s so gorgeous that it’s lethal, knocking your breath out from your chest with one stare. “But, if you want, you can grind your pretty pussy on my thigh. You do all the work and I’ll just watch you, yeah?” 

You feel shy from his gaze all of a sudden and he silences your thoughts with a kiss to your lips, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth. He can’t stop his mouth from connecting to your skin, leaving hot wet kisses along your jaw, neck, and ear. When he nibbles on your ear and you feel his hot breath against you, you can’t help it when your hips kick forward desperate to get some friction. 

“That’s it,” he groans. “Just like that.” Tentatively you roll your hips against the fabric again, head lolling back at the delicious friction it causes between your legs. True to his word he lets you do all the work, arms crossed behind his head and eyes heavy as he drinks you in. He smiles a familiar grin that causes you to heat up, one that’s smug but offensively gorgeous. 

You feel spurred on by the look he’s giving you and the feeling between your legs and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips when he tenses his thigh. 

“Fuck, you look good like this,” he says softly. You’re rocking yourself back and forth on him in earnest now, feeling your high start to build up. But you’re sensitive now and you’re starting to lose your rhythm, your hips becoming tired. 

“Min I can’t,” you whine, losing that feeling that had slowly started to build. 

“I gotcha,” he says, grabbing your hips for you. He rocks you back and forth using his own strength, not forgetting to push his thigh harder against your core. He works you back up embarrassingly fast and before you know it you’re spilling over the edge with your back arched and a loud cry. Just as he allows you to slow down he presses a kiss against your lips, breathing in your moans. You slump against his shoulder then and he strokes your back. “Beautiful,” he whispers. 

Changbin: Changbin doesn’t react at all when you tell him. His arms are full of you, who is currently straddling his lap happily. Your makeout session was starting to get a little intense and you could tell that it was likely to escalate–which you had no problem with, but you couldn’t stop the confession from releasing from your lips. 

He stares at you. No acknowledgement whatsoever. You gulp nervously… any reaction would be better than no reaction, you think. 

“Bin?” you ask, breaking his focus. You’re worried that you ruined the mood, suddenly anxious. “Should I not have said that? We can stop,” you say, lifting your hips to get off of him when he grabs your waist, setting you down flush against his hips. 

“Sorry,” he smiles sheepishly. “I think… I was flustered.” 

“Huh?”

“That turned me on more than it should have,” he admits with a small smile, staring at the wall next to him. You coo at the blush on his face, his ears turning suddenly red. His bulge pressing into your clothed core further proves his point–he wasn’t lying. You hate to admit how turned on you are now too, his thick cock pressing against you making less-than-pure thoughts run through your head. 

Your lips reattach to his in a messy kiss and your hands are everywhere, feeling his broad, toned pecs, his muscular shoulders, his tummy… You press kisses against his throat, his collarbone, his sternum and you can feel his cock twitch in his sweats. The thought that he’s just as aroused as you are, with your panties probably soaked from your arousal, pushes you even further. You rock yourself against his clothed cock, relishing in the way it presses against your clit just right. The groan he lets out is heavenly, his head thrown back in bliss. This gives you the perfect opportunity to lean forward and bite the junction between his neck and shoulder, sucking a pretty purplish-red mark in its wake.

His hips thrust up on instinct and you whine… This must have been the breaking point, you think, because he grabs your hips so tightly you think they will bruise… and he thrusts his hips up into yours so harshly that you let out a shriek in surprise. 

“Fuck… is this okay?” he asks, looking utterly debauched. You nod, trying to rock your hips in tandem but his grip is too tight–he’s in control. He’s lifted you up off of him a few inches and pistons his hard bulge into your core, the same way he would if he were fucking you. His cock slides deliciously against your clit every time and though you don’t know the feeling, you think your high is starting to build up. 

“Just like that, Bin,” you tell him, scrunching your eyes shut and throwing your head back. 

He growls. “You like that? You like when my cock touches your pretty pussy? You’re soaking me, fuck. I’m gonna cum, gonna cum in my pants you’re so hot, baby.” 

You feel your core start to tighten and his hand tightens in your hair, grabbing your face to push your lips against his in a hard but messy kiss. The second your lips come in contact you start to cum, spasming around nothing as he continues to drill his cock against you. 

It takes only a few seconds for Changbin to cum too, grabbing your hips and holding you tight against his bulge. You feel him pulsing in his pants, thick spurts of his arousal shooting out and soaking the sweats. It’s so erotic and he is a sight to behold when he cums, sweat glistening across his forehead and the veins of his forearms protruding from where he holds you tight. 

When he looks up at you he has the audacity to look sheepish again. You smack his shoulder lightly with a smile. “No need to be shy on me now,” you tease. He lifts you up, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist and your arms slung around his neck. 

“Wanna take this to the bedroom?” he chuckles. You answer him with a kiss.

Hyunjin: Hyunjin lets out a gasp as if what you have just told him is heresy. Ever the drama-queen, you have to remind your boyfriend to keep his voice down–you’re in public. You’re not even sure how the topic came up, honestly, and part of you wishes that you had kept this information to yourself. Hyunjin, the man that he is, cannot let you keep anything to yourself. He instantly pries for the details despite your red-hot face. 

“How often have you tried?” he asks, more excited than he should be. “You have tried, right? You just can’t…” you slap a hand over his mouth, looking around you. 

“We can talk about this later,” you hiss. He gives you a giddy smile. You can tell he won’t forget about this. 

Sure enough, he’s back on you the moment you walk through the door. 

“Why do you care so much?” you groan. 

“Because that means I get to help you,” he says with a glint in his eyes. “I get to be your first.” Oh. Oh. Well, maybe you like that idea more than you’re willing to admit. 

“Can I? Would you let me?” 

“Hyune, how would you even–” 

You let out a yelp when he rolls onto your back, rolling you on top of him. 

“You could sit on my face,” he suggests. He must see your hesitation because he calms you down by rubbing your thighs. “Grind your pretty cunt all over my tongue.” 

You squeeze your legs together from where you sit on top of him, ineffective due to Hyunjin’s broad frame below you. 

“Are you sure?” you ask. “It’s just… what if I hurt you? What if you don’t like it, or you can’t breathe–”

“Shh, pretty,” he coos. “It only matters if you like it, but trust me I’ll like it too. I can tap your thigh if I need to breathe. You won’t hurt me, okay? You can go as crazy as you’d like.” 

Reluctantly (and a bit nervously), you agree, rolling off of him to take off your pants. You’re already insanely aroused, embarrassingly so just from seeing the gorgeous man beneath you, rock hard in his pants. As you timidly straddle his face, you’re surprised when he pulls your core right onto his face. 

“Hyunjin!” you cry, jerking up. 

“Relax,” he smiles. “No need to be shy. Actually sit.” He lightly taps your ass and you lower yourself onto him, letting out a sigh when he swipes his tongue through your folds. He moans into your center, mumbling something akin to ‘tastes good’ and you relax. When his tongue circles your clit you think electricity has spread throughout your entire body and you lurch forward, his grip on your thighs unwavering. 

“Shit, Hyune, that feels good,” you tell him, his tongue alternating between sucking and flicking your clit to shallowly fucking your hole. You can’t help but rock back and forth on his face, any inhibitions thrown out the window. He groans and sighs into your cunt, clearly enjoying himself as well. He works you up surprisingly fast and he sticks his tongue out wide, letting you ride it and pleasure yourself on it the way you want. His tongue is warm and wet and feels heavenly against your folds and you grind yourself to a finish, his grip on your hips helping to aid you to your release. 

He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, releasing with a pop as he gently licks up your release. You roll off of him and catch your breath, staring at the ceiling in awe. 

“Was it everything you’ve ever dreamed of?” he asks breathlessly, licking his lips of your arousal. “We’re going to need to do that again,” you laugh incredulously. “Your tongue… no wonder I couldn’t get myself off if that’s what I was missing.” He laughs and rolls on top of you, pressing a long kiss against your lips. He tastes of you and that somehow makes it even better.

Han:

You flush when he makes the suggestion. Mutual masturbation. “I have a hard time… I’ve never been able to make myself finish before, though,” you remind him. 

“Yeah yeah, I know,” he says. “But it’ll be hot. And maybe it can help you…”

“But what if you finish first?” you ask him. “Won’t that be… unsexy?” “Unsexy? God no,” he laughs “If anything, I can help you finish after, if you want.” 

“O…Okay,” you agree. The kisses start off messy and you find yourself wanting to wrap your hands around his waist. “No… no touching,” he tells you. “Just kissing. No touching one another’s bodies. It will make it feel better. It will be sexier if we can just… watch.” You agree with him. The wet, sloppy kisses come to an end with a string of saliva connecting you too. You watch intently as he palms himself through his sweats, grabbing his length with a groan. 

“You make me so hard, baby,” he tells you. You feel entranced, lifting up your shirt and playing with your chest as he watches. You grope yourself, teasing your nipples while your gaze never leaves his, the way his eyes stare at you and each movement has you unknowingly biting your lip. 

He pulls his sweats down and palms himself through his underwear before stroking his cock through the fabric, hissing at the friction. Feeling bold, you free yourself of your underwear and move so that he can get a better view. His eyes look so wide and full of lust as he finally frees his cock and starts touching himself properly. He was right. It was erotic for sure. You couldn’t help how turned on you felt as you touched yourself, shallowly fucking yourself with one finger as he watches. He’s beautiful. This is a fact you have always known but right now, as he fists his cock and his hips jump up to meet his hand you can’t help but admire how beautiful, his brows furrowed and eyes struggling to remain watching you. 

This is the first time you’ve properly seen one another without clothes on, and while you have had a few intense makeout sessions and heavy petting, you have yet to go this far. You can’t say you regret it when his whines are so perfect, his neediness as he throws his head back and touches himself with such a vice grip. 

“You’re so hot,” you tell him and he moans. 

You fuck yourself even harder on your fingers, trying to bring yourself close to the edge. He watches when you start squelching around your fingers, so wet that the sound is borderline obscene. You can tell he’s close even though you’re struggling, but you swear you have never been closer to orgasm than when you saw Jisung cum all over himself, shooting his release on his stomach with a cry of your name. Your fingers speed up and you’re still not sure if you’re close, but before you can say anything Jisung crosses the bed. He attaches his lips to your clit without a second thought, his fingers replacing your own. He’s a sight to behold, hair sticking to his forehead and sweat glistening down his toned chest. It takes a few minutes but he doesn’t give up (even though you likely would have by now), he licks and sucks you through your first orgasm. 

“God I could cum again just from that sight,” he admits with a shy chuckle once he lifts his head up from between your legs.

Felix:

It was all because of a stupid card game. Okay, maybe some alcohol was involved too. It was one of those couple’s games and in your newly relationship-state, Felix suggested you play together. A little bit too much wine and a series of giggles and here you were. 

“What is the most amount of orgasms you’ve had in one day?” Felix read the card, a blush spreading across his face. 

“It doesn’t say that,” you laugh, reaching for the card. Sure enough… You let out a sigh. “Truthfully?” you ask. 

“Well–only if you want to,” he backtracks. “You… you don’t need to tell me anything you don’t want to.” 

“No, Lix, it’s fine, it’s just…” you run a hand through your hair, exasperated. “Zero. The answer is zero. I’ve never cum before.” 

“But… you had a boyfriend before me, I thought?” 

“Yeah,” you laugh. “That doesn’t mean he made me cum.” He looks at you thoughtfully, ultimately deciding to table the conversation. You were grateful. You’re both a little too tipsy and flustered to be having this conversation. You watch a movie and curl up against his chest, game long forgotten as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. *** It’s about a week later when Felix shows up at your door with a suspiciously large package in his hands. You were expecting him for date night but not aware of what he brought with him. 

“What’s that?” you ask. You don’t miss the way his ears turn red. 

“This is for later,” he tells you. “It’s a surprise.” You shrug it off and almost forget about it until after dinner. He brings you into your bedroom and hands you the package. 

“I remembered our conversation from last week,” he admits. “How you said you’ve never… so I bought some things that I thought you could use.” 

“Use? To help me cum?” 

He coughs, clearing his throat. “Um, yeah. I just thought… and I don’t even need to be here when you use them, but I thought that you could use some… tools? I don’t know.” 

“Do you want to see me use them, Lix?” you all but purr. He looks at you sheepishly. 

“I wouldn’t say no,” he laughs. “Only if you’re comfortable.” 

You open the package, then. A large dildo. A smaller one. A bullet vibrator. Some things you’ve never even seen before. 

“Wow, Felix, this is…” you lift up one of the larger toys to inspect it. “Was this expensive?”

“Don’t worry about that,” he tells you. “It’s an investment.” 

And that’s how you end up spread on your bed, Felix watching from a chair at the end of your bed. 

“I can always take a video,” he suggests. You furrow your brow. “Y’know, that way if you have a hard time finishing, we can watch it back and review and see where it went wrong?”

“Felix I KNOW you did not just suggest having a VOD review of my masturbation session,” you laugh. “I’m not one of your games you know.” He looks away shyly. You acquiesce. “If you want to record… use my phone though.” He looks way too excited as he grabs your phone and props up the camera as you start to play with yourself, fucking yourself with one of the vibrating dildos he bought. It felt really good, and it was just an added bonus that the sexiest man alive was watching you. 

“You can go deeper,” he drawls. You can tell he’s accentuating his deep voice because he knows it turns you on. “Don’t be afraid to really press the end of it against your clit.” The toys worked you up faster than you ever imagined and you squirmed beneath his gaze. Felix stands, bringing the camera even closer to your sopping entrance, really trying to get a good view of the camera. “You’re doing so good,” he tells you. You can’t help it. You cum. The vibrations from the toy, the camera, Felix’s watchful eyes and words… it was all just too much. You writhe through your orgasm until you reach overstimulation, turning off the toy and throwing an arm over your eyes. 

Felix is quick to jump into the bed, peppering your face and neck with kisses. 

“That was… wow,” you tell him. 

“Wanna watch the video?” he asks, voice laced with excitement.

Seungmin:

“Never,” he deadpans. 

“Nope,” you repeat. 

“Well, like, how do you do it?” 

“What do you mean?” you can’t help the blush that spreads across your face. 

“You’re probably doing it wrong,” he explains. “I know you’re not mansplaining to me how to masturbate,” you roll your eyes. 

“No,” he sighs, exasperated. “I’m just saying maybe I can help. It would be easier if you showed me.” 

“Showed you?”

“Don’t be dense, love. Just take your pants off, if you want, and touch yourself in front of me. I can guide you, if you’d like.” 

You were definitely blushing now. 

“Can you kiss me first?” you ask. You don’t know why but you felt like breaking that barrier would make things a little easier. He smiles, pushing his hand through his hair before leaning forward, capturing your lips in his. His hand brushed through your hair, deepening the kiss. When you pulled apart you felt a rush of confidence, pulling your pants and panties down to reveal yourself to him. He watches you from the end of the couch with his arms crossed, lips shut tight. 

You let him watch as you trail your hands down to your center, spreading your legs wider when you see him trying to get a better look. You circle your clit with one finger, dipping into your entrance to gather your arousal. You switch between fucking yourself with your finger and circling your clit, no sense of rhythm. Though Seungmin pins you with your gaze and causes your arousal to strengthen, you can’t build yourself up the way you want. You get frustrated. Seungmin takes notice. 

“Lift your shirt up,” he commands. He watches as you hesitate but follow his direction, lifting up your shirt with his heavy gaze. “Use your thumb and pointer finger. Trace your nipples.” You do what he tells you, following his instruction to tease, circle, and pinch your nipples. 

“Use one hand. Wet it with your tongue. Get a lot of spit–yeah, like that. Touch your clit.” He lets out a breath when you release a shaky moan. “Use one hand and circle your clit and use the other hand to touch your pretty nipples. Go back and forth between circling it and flicking it. Figure out what feels better.”

You squirm at the oversensitivity. 

“Seung,” you moan. “Feels good but… can’t you just touch me? I want to feel you.” 

He shakes his head. “No, baby. You need to do it yourself. I want you to know how to make yourself feel good.” You let out a frustrated sigh but continue to follow his direction. 

“Use your other hand now and push it inside. You can start with one finger. Don’t stop the momentum you’ve got on your clit but slowly fuck yourself with one finger. Good. Try curling it.” You can’t deny how good it feels–better than you’ve ever made yourself feel. You notice the bulge in his sweats and you whine. Teasing, you drag your foot up his thigh and try to press against his bulge to get a reaction from him. Before you can though he sighs and grabs your foot, harshly. 

“Don’t try it,” he warns. He doesn’t release his grip from your ankle and you’re thankful for the touch. “Try adding another finger.” You do just as he tells you, curling them inside you as you continue to stimulate your clit. 

“Seung, I’m… I think I’m close,” you say with a breath of surprise. 

“Good,” he smiles. “Don’t let up on the pace. Try to stay as consistent as you can. You’re doing so good for me, baby. Does that feel good? You’re so pretty, you have such a pretty pussy–”

You cut him off with a loud yell as you cum all over your fingers. Your legs kick up, unable to control them but he grabs your thighs and holds you down, rubbing small circles into your skin. 

When your breathing finally calms down he shoots you a grin. He opens his arms and you crawl right into them, laying your head against his chest. 

“Wasn’t trying to ‘mansplain,’” he mutters against your head. “Just wanted to see if I could help.” 

You laugh sleepily. “I know, Minnie. You did a good job. Thank you.” 

Jeongin:

With the way he smiles at you you’re not sure if he heard you right–he looks too giddy, dimples protruding from his face in a way that makes you want to poke him. 

“What–” you ask, taken aback. You were in the midst of a makeout session that had started to get a little too heated and you felt the need to confess your little problem. You were self-conscious about it and unsure how he would react but this is not what you expected. 

“Can I help?” he asks. 

“Help–”

“Touch you,” he clarifies. “Let me touch you?” He trails his hands up and down your cheek. Hot from his suggestion. But you’ve always loved his hands, long and veiny, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t imagine how they would feel. 

“Okay,” you stutter. “But if you can’t make me finish–”

“Shhh,” he kisses you. “Let’s not worry about that now. Just let me touch you and make you feel good, and if I can get you to cum that would be amazing. If not, nobody will be offended, yeah?” 

He sits up then and before you can ask what he’s doing he bends you over his lap. Your breath hitches and he runs a hand up and down your ass, grabbing and kneading the flesh. You’re glad he can’t see your face because you’re sure you’re flushed beyond belief. He touches you over your shorts and when you start to squirm he lands a warning tap to your ass that makes you yelp. He takes his time touching you through the fabric and circling your clothed clit before he lifts your hips up, pulling your shorts and panties off at the same time. 

“You’re so wet, baby,” he teases, gathering your wetness with his fingers. “All this for me?” 

“Mmm,” you respond unintelligently, wiggling your ass to get your point across. Still he teases, never quite touching you where you need him. 

“Jeong-In… Innie, please, touch me,” you whine. He coos at the desperate tone of your voice before allowing his fingers to finally push into your entrance. You welcome the intrusion and you’re glad that he starts slow, fucking you deep and with purpose. 

“Feels good,” you moan, burying your head deeper into the sheets. 

“Yeah?” he asks. He fucks his fingers into at a speed that you couldn’t imagine possible, a large hand splayed onto your lower back to hold you in place. You can’t help the sounds that escape your mouth and you vaguely realize that Jeongin is talking, whispering filthy things in your ear. 

“Fuck, baby… your pussy is so tight. So perfect,” he groans. “So warm and wet… this pussy is all mine, yeah?” 

“Oh my GOD, fuck, Jeongin!” you cry out. His words add fuel to the fire, allowing the warmth to spread through you and speed up your impending climax. He doesn’t relent, staying at the same pace and hitting that spot deep inside of you that has you seeing stars with his long, deft fingers. He hits that same spot every time and suddenly you’re cumming, spasming around his fingers. You swear you can hear his grin but you couldn’t care, not with the intensity of your orgasm. When you’ve come down from your high he strokes your back, letting your breathing even out. He reaches a hand around to your face and shows you his wet fingers, groaning when you wrap your lips around them. 

“I can make you cum in other ways,” he suggests. “Want me to show you?” ─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Masterlist <3

[rbbalmung]

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐬

♱ ━━━ PAIRING: HYUNJIN X READER ♱ ━━━ CW: CNC, ROLEPLAY (INTRUDER & VICTIM), CHOKING, BONDAGE, CLIT PLAY, FINGERING, MASTURBATION (M.), CUM SHOT, "NO" IS SAID BUT IS NOT A SAFEWORD, UNPROTECTED SEX, CREAMPIE, SLIGHT DACRYPHILLIA, PRAISE, (1) SLAP, DEGRADING, COCKWARMING, PET NAMES (DOLL), READER IS CALLED "GOOD GIRL" AND "SLUT", GROPING, AFTERCARE ♱ ━━━ WC: 1.8K ♱ ━━━ NOTE: ♱ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     Hyunjin was off an hour after their conversation. He didn’t waste time getting out of the company and heading home to his girlfriend. A little sweaty from dance practice too but managed to cool down a bit in the car ride over. 

     Y/n had busied herself cleaning up their living room when the dancer walked in the door. “You’re home early,” Y/n remarked as he kicked his shoes off

     “Home on time for once,” Hyunjin smiled as he walked over to her and pecked her lips

     “Mmm. Go shower,” Y/n told him

     “Join me?” Hyunjin grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the hall with him

     Y/n smiled and joined him down the hall. It was one of their little domestic activities that was a pretty daily thing. One Hyunjin started early in their relationship. 

     Y/n turned the water on while Hyunjin got them a change of clothes. Coming into their bathroom and stripping off his practice clothes. Y/n followed suit in getting her house clothes off while her boyfriend stepped in the shower. 

     The dancer dipped his head under the water as she got in behind him. Pressing a kiss on his back as she wrapped her arms around his waist. Hyunjin turned around in her hold and she pushed back his wet hair. 

     “Wanna tell me about your little fantasy?” Hyunjin asked 

     A nice warm bath was a nice way to end a shitty day. Y/n felt better after soaking in the tub for some time. Wrapping herself in a towel and walking back into her room. Looking in her drawers for clothes. Barely feeling the presence behind her. 

     A large hand grabbed her throat and pulled her against them. Her hands immediately flew to the hand holding her neck. Trying her hardest before the low chuckle next to her ear made her blood run cold. 

     “What a good girl. Stopped struggling so quickly,” the voice growled. 

     Y/n tried twisting away from the body, finding trapped by the other arm. Holding her waist tight. 

     “Here I thought about going easy on you.”

     Y/n still tried to get out of his hold, just for her body to get dragged backward.

     “Let me go!” Y/n choked out before he pinned her onto her mattress, the hand moving to hold the back of her neck.

     Y/n could feel his hips press against her ass. His free hand played with the edge of her towel. Y/n wiggled under him as he pushed the bottom hem of the towel up over her ass. A gloved hand ran over her ass as she twitched from the contact. Feeling his other hand moving from her neck to grope her ass. Y/n took a split second to quickly crawl up her bed to grab her phone on her bedside table.

     The intruder quickly grabbed her hands and turned her onto her back. Her towel had slipped down from her chest. Now she was trying to cover herself and get away. He straddled her to keep her down as he reached behind him and grabbed some rope. Y/n saw the white elongated mask and started to squirmed more as he tied her wrists together and then to the bed frame. Making escape impossible now while he completely opened the towel.

     “Gonna be the perfect canvas.” His hands roamed over her body. 

     Y/n flinched as his thumbs ran over her nipples. Tugging at her restraints as he got off her and settled between her legs, pushing them up towards her chest. Exposing her to him. 

     He watched her wet hole clench around nothing and laughed. “Someone’s been neglecting this little hole.” One hand moved to rub his thumb over her folds and to her clit. Rubbing the little bud she tried flinching away. Turning her head and closing her eyes, trying not to focus on the stimulation.

     The masked man noticed and took the opportunity the push a finger into her. Watching her gasp and turn her head back to him through the mask. Smiling as he curled his finger up into her. 

     “Feels good, doesn’t that?” He asked

     Y/n shook her head as she bit her bottom lip. “Hm,” he hummed.

     Y/n went to respond till another long finger pushed inside her and stretched her out. A moan escpaing her throat. “Feels good now.”

     Using othe hand, he unbuckled his belt and pants. Pushing the fabric down along with his boxers. Y/n watched his dick spring out of the material, tip angry and dripping with pre cum. Trying to close her legs but he was quick to push one down to the mattress to keep her legs open. 

     “Don’t try to hide, doll.”

     Y/n could feel the tears pricking her lash line as he pinned her leg down with his and wrapped his hand around his cock. Hands moving together as he finger fucked her while jerking himself off. Slow at first but soon he was picking up speed. Y/n whined as the tips of his fingers rubbed against her g-spot.

     “Gonna cum already?” he joked, seeing her reactions as he abused the soft spot inside her

     “No,” Y/n denied, not wanting to give him the satisfaction

     “Yeah, clenching around my fingers for no reason?” He asked, sitting up a bit and leaning over her, dick pointed at her stomach.

     “Ye— fuck—”

     “Gonna cum from just two fingers?” He teased

     “No.”

     “Not enough for you? Here,” He said adding a third finger into her, stretching her more, “This’ll help you more.”

     Y/n’s jaw fell open as her back arched, three gloved fingers stretching her out. “Can’t lie about how good it feels now.”

     His speed picked up again before burying his fingers inside her, thumb coming to her clit and rubbing the bud as fast as he could. Watching as her body jerked till her walls completely clung to his fingers and coated the gloves with her essence.

     “Good girl,” he chuckled

     He pulled his fingers out and let her essence drip out of her and onto the towel under her. He took advantage of her mouth hanging open as she caught her breath and pushed the three fingers that were in her cunt into her. Y/n gasped and tried pushing them out with her tongue but nothing. He kept them in there as he jerked himself over her.

     “Fuck,” He groaned, then she fealt warm cum hitting her torso.

     His fingers popped out of her mouth not long after he finished on her and cleaned them up by wiping them on her breast. She could sense him smiling under the mask as he moved her legs over his hips. 

     “No…” Y/n whined as he gripped her thighs

     “I’m gonna make you forget that fucking word,” He grumbled as he tapped the tip of his half-hard cock on her clit

     Y/n flinched away from him before he teased her folds, running the tip up and down, collecting her slick before he started pumping himself again. Groaning under the mask as he worked himself till he was fully hard again. 

      Y/n pulled back as his tip teased her hole. “Please…” Y/n begged, tears rolling down her cheeks 

     “Begging now? That desperate to fuck you?” He questioned, tip slipping inside her

      “N—“ Y/n was cut off from her sentence as he brought his hand down across her face. Then gripped her cheeks and made her look into the black eyes of the mask

     “No matter how much you say ‘no’, I’m not leaving,” he growled as he pushed into her, watching her jaw drop, “not until you're filled up. Got it?”

     “Y-Yes,” Y/n answered 

     “Good,” he lightly tapped her cheek and brought his thumb to her clit

     Y/n moaned, feeling him sit heavy inside her as he toyed with her. Making her clench around him. He waited till she was on the edge of cumming again before stopping his minstrations on her poor clit.

     “Wh—” Y/n started to ask as he leaned over her, hands laying next to her head. She barely felt him pull out before he was slamming into her and knocking the wind out of her.

     “What a good hole,” he groaned as he pounded into her. Not giving her a build up to get used.

     “Too much,” Y/n whined as she tightened her legs around him

     “Should be used to it. Little slut needing something in her all the time,” he groaned

     Y/n’s moans went up a few octaves as his tip rubbed against her g-spot, just like his fingers had. Her walls pulsing around him as his pace picked up. Unsure how how he could move as fast as he was going. Y/n bit her lip as he sat up and bent her in half, legs going towards her chest. She swore she could feel him in her tummy in this position.

     “Gonna leave you all tied up and leaking for the next person to use,” he grumbled under the mask, “Maybe just keep you as my own little toy.”

     “Please,” Y/n cried as she clenched around his cock pistoning inside her

     “Gone from begging me not to to begging me to keep you as my personal fuck doll? Cute.”

     Y/n shook her head but the little action went unnoticed as he buried his dick inside her. His warm seed painting her walls white. Deep gross leaving his throat as his fingers came down and rubbed circles into her clit. Watching her body shake as she got tighter around him till her warmth was coating his dick. Their juices mixing inside her.

     He pulled up and watched the cum mixture drip out of her before he lifted the movie mask off his face. Hyunjin tossed the plastic to the side and pushed his sweaty hair back out of his face, “fuck,” he groaned before he gently pulled his girlfriend out her the mating press he had put her in, leaning over her a bit.

     “Hey princess,” Hyunjin called to his girlfriend, kissing the sighed of her neck

     “Hm,” Y/n responded 

     “Feel alright?” he asked, untying her hands from the headboard 

     “Feel good,” Y/n said as he grabbed her wrists and kissed the skin

     “Yeah? Not to mean for you?” Hyunjin pulled her to sit up and into his lap

     “No. Perfect,” Y/n wrapped her arms around him.

     “Let’s get you cleaned up love. Then we can get some sleep, how does that sound?”

     “Sounds great.”

     Hyunjin helped her into the bathroom and ran them both a bath and got them a change of clothes for the both of them before helping her in the tub, getting in behind her. Washing his cum off her before just relaxing in the warm water with her. Gently placing kisses on her shoulders and neck, muttering all the praises he wanted to say under the mask.

♱ ━━━━━━ M.LIST    TIP JAR

♱ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback

© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[rbbalmung]

Confession and Cuffs s.c

Warnings/tags: suggestive fluff, cop hate lol, cussing duh, y/n aggressively flirty low key would be harassment irl. Lightly edited

Synopsis: You are a notorious criminal that is very familiar with your local police force. Detained on a faulty warrant and interrogated for hours, you give them nothing but sass and harsh criticism. That is, until you meet Detective Seo.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

You remain in the same sterile interrogation room you have been in for hours, stainless steel chair bruising your tailbone and digging into your spine. With an adjustable lamp clamped to the edge of the table turned off, the lighting is dim but you can still see the reflective surface of the one way glass opposite you. Even though you are alone, and have been for a while, there is no mistaking the feeling of eyes on you monitoring and examining your every move, every breath, every blink. You feel like it has been at least an hour since the last officer was in here with you demanding a confession to a crime you, for once, didn’t commit; even if you had, you’d never spill your guts to them. The only reason you are here now, is they arrested you under the guise of a warrant out for not paying a speeding ticket you received years ago as a teen. You know for a fact you paid it and got it expunged from your record, but it was so long ago you no longer have proof of the transaction. On top of that, it's a Friday night so the records department won’t be up and running again until Monday. These pigs orchestrated the whole thing to get you in their custody, and you aren’t even the perpetrator in this case.

Since your arrest, it has been a revolving door of officers trying different tactics on you. They’ve made offers of food and lenient sentencing. Tried to coerce you to sell out your compatriots. The last guy practically just screamed at you for half an hour, voice screeching and droplets of spit flying from his red hot face, trying to scare out a confession, but all you could do was laugh. He must be new, you thought, despite being a criminal, you have gotten to know and are on decent terms with a lot of the more reasonable officers. After having to release you on the grounds of no evidence countless times, many of them have accepted that your actions tend to only harm other members of the seedy underbelly of the city.

That is the case for most of the force, but obviously not the next officer that walks in. You can tell by his demeanor that he is going for bad cop as he saunters in with an expression of disgust and accusation when he looks your way. He avoids eye contact, maybe because he wants you to feel lowly and beneath him, but it's more likely he knows you will see through his ruse if he lets you meet his gaze.

“We know it was you” he spits flipping through a folder labeled evidence that is without a doubt filled with blank pages. While you usually give ambiguous answers or simply remain silent, you’re over messing with the investigators at this point,

“Hmmm no you dont” you hum out matter of factly

“Quiet! We’ve got you this time,” he must be really committed to the bit, raising his voice and ordering you around.

“Really? What dirt do you have on me? Go on. I wanna see.”

“It's in the evidence storage for the night,”

“You don’t have photos in that conveniently marked folder you've got? If I’ve told you dipshits once, I've told you 100 times,” you pause to squint at the name badge on his chest,

“Skinner, I’m not your guy” shouting back to get the attention of the people that are without a doubt recording, before leaning back in the chair that feels like a bed of nails at this point. Not allowing your discomfort to show, you continue,

“You're a bad liar, Skinner. If you had something real I'd have been arrested for a real charge and not some backhanded bureaucratic nonsense. I’m done talking” your statement punctuated by the crossing of your arms over your chest. The goose bumps on your skin are impossible to ignore; it's a damn icebox in here, another tactic to get you to admit to this crime you played no part in. Despite your refusal to engage, he went on accusing you and shouting garbage before stomping out like a frustrated child.

A while later, you are beginning to doze off with your head resting on the frozen table, but the sound of the locks being opened shakes you from your drowsiness. In walks a hunk not in the typical uniform. He’s got on a white button up that hugs his thick arms so perfectly accentuating his toned form and a black vest over it and pressed black dress pants with a key ring and badge clipped to the belt. You turn to the mirror and attempt the make eye contact with the people on the other side before blurting out,

“Oh so we’re doing sexy cop now? That's new,” before looking back at the man entering the room. He puckers his lips and presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek trying to fight back a smirk while dropping his file on the table across from you.

“I’m Detective Seo. I’ve been assigned to this case, and I just wanted to ask you a few questions” He says with confidence but politely as he pulls out the chair opposite to you and takes a seat.

“You and every other pig in this pen.” You say coldly before allowing your grimace to shift into a cheeky grin, “Don’t worry, I can kid around with them. We’re all close; I practically know them all by name” feigning sincerity in your tone.

“I bet you do” he lets the words slowly fall from his mouth as he mocks you for your seemingly endless unofficial record, opening the thick folder,

“I’ve checked out your file”

“Oooh a fan I assume?” you question, heightening your tone to speak more sweetly staring up at him through your lashes. He looms over you flicking on the table lamp. If he wasn’t so jaw droppingly handsome, you'd be irked by his attempt at asserting dominance over you. You like the look of him above you, but it ends all too soon as he pulls out the chair on the other side of the table and gracefully and controlled lowers himself into the seat drawing your gaze to his muscles straining against the fabric of his button down.

“You could say that,” he mumbles seemingly unimpassioned. His eyes skimming the papers in his hands,

“I can’t lie, I’m impressed. Life long career criminal and not a single conviction”

“I don’t know what this criminal nonsense you speak of is, but you're damn right, my record is as clean as a whistle. Well, I guess until today,” you aren’t trying to maintain an ere of innocence. Everyone here knows what you do for work, and you aren’t oblivious to that, but you’ll be dead before they get audio of some half ass admittance of guilt they can spin and manipulate to finally take you to court.

“We both know this charge is bullshit, and you’ll be set loose on Monday,” he nonchalantly muses and he peers over the top of the papers at you. His warm eyes would be mezmerizing in any other circumstance, but you have to remain sharp.

“You sound sad, babe. We’ll work hard to make the most of the time we have together,” you tease. Leaning forward to rest onto his elbows,

“I know I will,” he assures you then asks,

“So why did you do it?” he asks. You give an exaggerated disappointed huff before answering,

“So so handsome, but unfortunately just as dense as your mates,” clicking your tongue before continuing,

“Just as I told your last goon, and the one before that, and the one before that, and I’ll say it again just for you, babe, I. Didn’t. Do. It.” Holding unblinking eye contact you lean forward closing the distance between you, your voice becomes a cooing whisper as you go on,

“I don’t know how else to put it, love. Why can’t you understand me?” drawing up your eyebrows and slowly shaking your head to convey distress continuing to draw closer to him.

“My name is Detective Seo,” He mutters trying to correct you as he seems to struggle to keep his eyes from drinking in your approaching features.

“Oh I know, baby” whispering for only him to hear.

He has remained strong, not letting your seductress intimidation technique win out over his macho demeanor, but as you near only a foot of nose to nose separation he pushes back not only his upper body but his whole chair from the table causing a smug smile to spread across your features. His slight fluster is impossible to hide due to the pink rising to his cheeks and his lack of grace as he gathers his documents before heading to the door. Soon the feeling of watching eyes fall back over you, and you hope so deeply that they are his.

Despite the painful furniture and frigid temperature the only thing on your mind is Seo. He’s there when you’re awake being grilled by other cops or just staring at the damn wall, and when you get brief moments to rest, he's in your dreams.

You’ve long lost track of time in the windowless room, another way they are trying to disorient you to let your guard down. With some sweet talking, you convince them to allow you to use a private bathroom as opposed to the grimey stalls that the other detainees use. While you are lucky to be affording this luxury, you have ulterior motives. As your escort guides you through the hall passing cubicle after cubicle, you get a glimpse out the window. The light is dim and dusky; it must already be Saturday evening. Your romantic daydreams have done wonders for making time fly by. After a few turns down corridors, you see what you’ve been looking for, not the bathroom, a rich wooden door with a window covered neatly by a curtain, and just to the right a gleaming placard. Detective Seo Changbin. Such a pretty name for such a pretty man. You commit the path to his office to memory for potential future use.

They graciously let you rest for just a bit longer before starting up the interrogations again. Without fail you continue your typical slough of jesting and snarky comments without revealing any semblence of guilt, but unlike usual, there are some requests for the handsome detective sprinkled in. This continues late into the night and you can assume early into Sunday morning.

During a particularly kind session of questions, more like pleading on their part, you had just had a scrumptious meal hand delivered by your favorite officer; you are feeling generous. After some careful deliberation, you decide to throw them a bone but only on your terms.

“Bailey, you know me. You know I work alone and what little evidence you have points to a group of at least two. The fact that you guys won’t drop this line of questioning after hours of getting nowhere is making me question your sanity, lady,” you chide with a mouth full of food.

“I feel bad for you, hon. So bad, in fact, that I want to help you guys. I’ll share…” her face lights up as if what you're about to say will free her from this never ending game.

“But only to Seo” and her giddy face shifts to one of despair before one of determination as she rushes out the door pulling out her phone from her back pocket as the door slams behind her. Not an hour later, the man of your dreams is pushing open the thick door. Equally as confident as last time, but he has ditched the tough guy demeanour for a more flirtatious one to match your own.

“I heard you were begging for me all night” he humors with the corner of his full lips pulling up into a sly smile.

“Oh baby that wasn’t begging, that was negotiating, but I'll beg if that's what you want.”

He moves close, foregoing the chair and sitting on the edge of the table forcing you to tilt your head back to keep the steamy eye contact that makes a heat rise in your stomach. He sends you a wink and opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off,

“Getting you here is only part of my request. I'll help you, but in exchange, I demand a date with you once I’m released”, his sultry look quickly shifts to a genuine smile and red cheeks as he breathily chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief,

“Before you go on about it being unprofessional, this is all just a big misunderstanding on record, babe. Remember, there was simply a glitch in the system that put out a warrant for my arrest. I am perfectly innocent. Actually, this is a massive mistake on your part and a major inconvenience to me. It truly is the least you could do”

“Oh really? I don't think innocent is the right word,” he leans down a bit, eyebrows raising knowingly.

“How about blameless? I'm just a blameless woman held hostage by a mismanaged police force, the least you could do is take me to dinner.” jokingly sticking out your lower lip to pout. He gives his best attempt at a disappointed sigh, but no matter how many times he attempts to release his tensing cheek muscles, they keep returning to a full smile.

“Fine, now who was it?”

“You think I’m that easy, Changbin?” pulling back clutching your imaginary pearls with one hand in faux shock,

“I'm not doing your job for you, plus I can't be on record selling out a coworker can I? Now, you promise me to take me out Monday after we clear up this silly clerical mistake, and I'll tell you where to look, you just have to trust me, yeah?” Caused by the name drop and your outlandish proposal, the shocked look on his face is genuine unlike yours.

“Trust you!?” he chokes out the question, but you just look back expectantly waiting on his response.

“I promise, y/n, to take you on a date this Monday” This the first time hes had a serious look in his face since he walked in.

“No take backs detective Seo” you warn. His flush brightens hearing you say his title for the first time after only calling him pet names.

“The old storage units on the west side of town”

“The owner? No way Mrs Lee had anything..”

“Let me finish!” you yelp, holding hand up to stop him.

“The owner of unit 87. Me and Mrs. Lee are actually members of the same book club, and I have it on good authority that the owner of that unit hasn’t paid his dues in three months”

“So he's the…” you once again interrupt him trying to jump to conclusions.

“No! I said I'm not doing this for you! However, your cute looks and eagerness make me want to help you extra. His kid has some unsavory affiliations, and they have been using said unit to store some… things. I'm not saying it's them, but what I am saying is the stuff you find there will lead you guys to the perp as long as one of you has even the barest minimum of reasoning skills. I know that can be few and far between in this line of work.” You just had to slip in that last jab, “Now, there's your in. You're welcome in advance, baby” He is a whirlwind running out the door, but before it shuts he shouts back to you

“See you tomorrow!”

They keep you in custody for the majority of Sunday, but no one enters to question you further. Only a few familiar officers pop in to chat or share a meal as you're finally able to drop the smug persona since Changbin is hard at work clearing your name. He returns to finally have a normal conversation with you and iron out the details of your date before your release. While it is policy to keep suspects cuffed on your way out the door, they usually never do, but Changbin insists. Both enjoying it a bit too much as he locks your wrists together before guiding you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. You stop before the main entrance of the station for him to remove your restraints. While your conversations have been respectful and polite ever since you gave the crucial information in solving the case, his smirk resurfaces as he twists the key.

“If you behave for me, maybe I’ll bring these tomorrow night.”

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

A.n- I can’t be anti authoritarian; one of my best friends is a cop! Thanks for reading! I felt particularly delulu writing this one. Wanted to name this ‘If you’re bad cop, and I’m good cop, who is sexy cop?’. Also, what the hell else do you call a smirk? Lots of smirking in this one. I can only alternate bt smile, smirk, and grin so much before I start feeling silly

-mo (acab)

Masterlist

[rbbalmung]

can't help myself...

...the one where hyunjin is ridiculously fucking handsome as always and you just can't keep your hands to yourself (now this one's a little suggestive)

hyunjin barely steps through the door before you’re on him.

“oh- okay, hi- baby-” he stumbles back as you grab his face, eyes wide, but he’s laughing, hands naturally falling to your waist.

you don’t even give him a chance to breathe. you’re kissing him, hands running through his buzzed hair, down his shoulders, across his chest, like you’re trying to memorise him all over again.

“you’re ridiculous,” you mumble between kisses, pressing one to his cheek, then his jaw, then the stupidly sharp line of his neck.

"me?" he breathes out, dazed as he bites his lower lip.

“yes, you.” another kiss. “walking around looking like that.” another. “knowing i’d lose my mind.” another, firmer this time, your arms locking around his neck, pulling him further into you.

hyunjin’s laughing against your lips now, but it’s breathless, like you’re actually overwhelming him. “so dramatic,” he teases, but he melts into you so easily, so naturally, fingers digging into your hips.

“shut up,” you mutter, tugging him down for another kiss, one hand sliding under his jacket, fingers grazing over the silk of his shirt.

he hums, a little smug, a little dizzy. “keep kissing me like this and i might just do another versace event tomorrow.”

you bite his lip in retaliation.

he gasps. "jagi".

"don't push it, sweetheart."

you pull back for a second, just enough to actually look at him, and that’s when it really hits you. he’s standing there in front of you, all dressed up, still glowing from the flashing cameras, makeup still on and lips red and swollen, credits to you.

you trace his jaw with your fingers, tilting his chin up. “you’re unfair,” you murmur.

hyunjin smiles, slow and lazy, hands sliding up your back. “i can’t help it.”

you huff, pressing your forehead against his. “you really expect me to be normal about this?”

he shrugs, teasing. “you never are.”

"because fucking look at you!" you exclaim, exasperated, squeezing his face between your hands. “i have no choice!”

he laughs, soft and bright, and you cut him off with another kiss, this one even deeper, like you need to prove a point. you push his jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, fingers immediately working on the first few buttons of his shirt.

hyunjin groans against your lips, tilting his head back slightly as your hands roam over his chest, nails dragging over the fabric. “you’re being dangerous,” he mutters, voice lower now, breath warm against your skin.

"this is your fault." you push his shirt open a little more, running your hands over the exposed skin. he shivers under your touch, hands tightening around your waist like he’s trying to ground himself.

“i didn’t- i mean, i wasn’t trying to-” he stammers, but you shut him up with another kiss, slow and teasing.

“exactly,” you whisper against his lips, sliding your arms around his neck again. “you weren’t even trying. that’s the problem.”

hyunjin swallows hard, eyes flickering to your mouth before he finally lets out a shaky breath. “so what happens if i do try?”

you smirk, fingers dipping under the waistband of his pants just enough to make him tense.

"wanna find out baby?"

[rbbalmung]

modern au chrobin where they still have lucina at their canon (?) ages cuz theyre idiots

[rbbalmung]

I've dreamt about you (nearly every night)

Pairing: Sanji x Reader Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 7.900+ words Themes: PWP; huddling for warmth; getting together; mutual pining; fingering; intercrural sex; dirty talking; sub!Sanji, cis female reader Notes: This is my first reader insert fic in this fandom and my first one in general for a long while. I don't use Y/N in here, nor did I add physical descriptions for the reader of any kind (I tried my damn hardest) but she is explicitly a cis woman! Summary: The crew is caught in a storm awfully unprepared for such bad weather. Sanji offers you to take his sleeping bag, but when he's the one left out in the cold, you decide you can't let that happen. Can't you just share, and stay warm together?

Written for @infixop. This is my gift to @jsitmfgoesnsfw. I hope you enjoy it! I tried to put as much things you like in it as possible xoxo

Find me on Ao3

The cold bites like a starved dog.

You’ve got nothing more than a few inches of your face exposed to the mean night air, and that’s all it takes to freeze you down to your bone marrow despite the tent you’re in. For no longer than thirty seconds, you manage to shuffle lower into your sleeping bag, bathing in your own body warmth, but then the need to look at the silhouette impressed on your tent’s thin sides overpowers you once again.

The two lanterns still lit outside paint Sanji’s figure in a stark shadow. He’s sitting out there, in the freezing cold, keeping an eye out on the Sunny—at least, that’s the excuse he came up with when he gave up his own spot for your comfort. Even with how fuzzy his outline is, you can see him tremble, one foot tapping anxiously on the ground with no respite. He was chain-smoking earlier, but he must have run out of cigarettes at some point.

“Fuck, Sanji,” you utter under your breath. You’re in your little tent, almost cozy in Sanji’s sleeping bag, and he’s fucking dying out there. He’s more sensitive to low temperatures than other members of the crew, and well aware of it. In the morning, before they started exploring this atoll, he’s one of the few that insisted on bringing all the camping equipment the crew is now using.

They had thrown anchor when the sun was still high in the sky, bathing the little alcove and the surrounding forest in the warmth of a spring day, but it took Nami only a moment to study the winds and the cloud patterns above them and declare, with whatever sixth sense she’s been gifted with, that  by night they’d be surrounded by winter weather. She was right—but she undersold it. By a lot.

Zoro—who says any opportunity to survive challenging environments is an opportunity he’ll take—and Luffy—who just couldn’t be bothered to pack properly—barely changed their outfits before leaving the Sunny. You had least layered a bit and brought scarves and gloves with you, but that’s about it.

Meanwhile, Sanji rounded up all the sleeping bags and tents they had, saddling Usopp and Franky with sharing the burden with him. It had seemed unnecessary to bring so much extra weight for what was supposed to be a casual stroll on this little speck of an island, only big enough to keep Luffy’s attention for a day maximum, but thank God he decided to play it safe.

It was like the Sun decided to set early today, aided by a sudden deluge of dark clouds. A blizzard started raging in the distance, right above the poor Sunny, impeding the crew’s safe return to their warm beds and an even warmer meal, so you had to camp out in the open for the night. Neither the snow nor the rain reached the tundra-like stretch of open land you found yourselves in, but the cold was—and is, even worse now—brutal. Chopper was deeply apologetic to be the only one enjoying the situation.

The tents were set up quickly, and they offered a little comfort, but the ground you are all trying to sleep on remains frigid at best. Nami, who borught her own sleeping bag, managed to squeeze Robin right next to her for the night, but there was no hope of letting a third person in.

“Let’s switch. I’ll be okay with sitting nearby and keeping watch, at least for a while,” Robin tried to propose, and from the gasp Sanji let out upon hearing that, one might have thought she just shot him in the chest. 

“Nonsense!” he exclaimed, blonde fringe flying left and right as he emphatically shook his head no. “Mon ange, you take mine. I insist.” 

Your mouth snapped closed at his preemptive rebuttal. In hindsight, you could have tried to manipulate his chivalry and convinced him that sharing was the perfect solution, but in the moment you lacked the courage. Strange how his eagerness to put the women around him on a pedestal has somehow looped around to make him intimidating—for you, at least; Nami and Robin certainly have no such issues. He thinks of you so highly, and the idea of shattering that perception by saying or doing the wrong thing often paralyzes you.

Now, that proposal that died in your mouth is all you can think about. We could sleep together, would you mind? He would have blushed at the double entendre and caved in quickly if you had made your tone sweet enough.

Another minute of your thoughts spinning around the same centre, another minute of running a nail over the edge of your teeth to dispel nervous energy, and you decide that neither you in here, nor Sanji out there, can take any more of this. 

You extend an arm outside of the warm cocoon of the bag, and stretch it as far as you can to open the tent a bit. The sound of the zip raising up a few inches makes Sanji’s silhouette shift as he looks in your direction, and before you can actually call out for him he’s moving closer on his own. 

One gloved hand goes to close the zip again. “Wait, Sanji,” you whisper to stop him. 

He stops trying to pull. “Oh, darling, y-you’re awake?” You can feel your face fall into a grimace at how shaky his voice is. “I thought the wind was making your t-tent open or something.”

“No, no, it was me.” Without having to slip out of the sleeping bag all the way, you try to tap the zip further up and open. A frigid tendril of wind snakes in and makes you wince. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Me? ‘M doing just fine,” Sanji says. Just because he’s lying with ease, it doesn’t mean it sounds convincing. “Was I, uh, keeping you awake…?”

Your heart squeezes in your chest when Sanji lowers his head to peer at you through the opening. He’s trying to bury his whole face in the puffy neck of his coat, but there’s a constant tremor in his jaw like he’s attempting to keep his teeth from chattering. Eyes large and round, darker spots on his cheeks and nose that would be a bright red if colours weren’t so muted by the moonlight—he’s probably the cutest he’s ever been. And so visibly uncomfortable.  

“Come in here for a while.” You meant to first reassure him that he hadn’t woken you, but the invitation tumbles out of you before you can manage. “You must be freezing. Come on, just a few minutes.”

“I don’t want to let the cold in here…” he protests weakly, but you can see that he wants to say yes. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth as you repeat your plea to stay with you and warm up. “I guess—if you really don’t mind—”

You limit yourself to a wide smile when he finally acquiesces, and that’s all you can do to avoid tugging him down to lay on top of you before he’s even managed to fully crawl inside. You watch him as he squats in a spot as far away from you as he can. He takes off his gloves, sighing in relief when they’re not wrapped around his hands any longer.

“We should have all listened to you, we were not prepared well for this weather,” you say softly. You frown when he starts trying to blow warm air on his fingers. “Did your gloves not help you at all?”

“They may have gotten a little wet, it’s really humid outside,” he admits, sending a small but sincere smile your way. 

“Sanji…” you sigh. You hope you don’t sound exasperated, since all you are is pained that a boy you hold so dear was literally left out in the cold like an abandoned puppy, but Sanji still looks a little downtrodden at your tone. “Can you come here, please? Why are you so far away?”

“I don’t want you to get cold!” he reiterates, but still shuffles near you at your request. The groundsheet crinkles under his knees. “Darling, I promise you I’m fine—”

He’s finally close enough that you can grasp one of his hands. You gasp at the complete lack of human warmth in his fingers. Sanji’s hands, so precious to him, almost blue from the cold? And he thinks you’ll just curl up in his sleeping bag and doze off while he suffers? 

“Holy shit, that must feel awful.” You free your other hand and bring it out of the bag enough to gesture that he should let you hold both of his, and he complies easily. The image of him kneeling next to you, hunched over so you can rub some life back into his fingers, while still mostly buried in a plush lime-green sleeping bag must look funny to an external viewer. All you can think about is how to convince him to strip down a little and get in there with you. 

He gently interlocks his fingers with yours when your movements slow down. “That’s so much better, angel, thank you. I’ll change my gloves and be more careful not to get them wet—”

Holding him like this, no matter the context, goes to your head. “No way I’m leaving you to freeze.” Before you can consider if the move is too revealing, you swipe your thumbs down the line of his index fingers, trying both to soothe him and draw him closer by the sheer strength of your longing alone. “You don’t have to keep guard or anything, you can just use your Observation Haki—”

“I promised Nami-san…” he protests, eyes downcast to stare at where you’re touching. You can’t tear your gaze away from his face—from the redness, first induced by the cold, now spreading all over from being alone with you. 

“Not true, you told Nami you’d stay awake and keep an eye out. You think she wants you to die of hypothermia or something?”

Sanji sighs. “No, of course not. And I guess if I catch a cold I won’t be able to properly take care of my favourite ladies.”

That drags a smile out of you. Sanji never misses an opportunity to act too cute for his own good. “Think of it however you need, as long as you get in here quickly.”

“In where?” he asks, one curled eyebrow raising tall on his forehead. “In there?”

“It’s your sleeping bag, and there’s some more space in here,” you try to explain. A good dose of mortification falls like lead into your stomach. Was that too forward? Have you been pressing too hard on the topic this entire time?

Sanji’s mouth hangs open for a moment, and his hands go slack in your hold. You take it as a sign to release him, some more of your courage waning. “More space—to fit both of us? In there? Together?”

“Sanji,” you groan, shuffling deeper down into your cocoon, hoping at this point that a portal will open at the bottom of it and swallow you whole. 

You can’t get over the embarrassment now that Sanji is acting so bewildered by the notion. Part of you, no matter how much insecurity you harbor about Sanji desiring you as much as you desire him—at times the thought feels absurd— believed he’d jump at the chance to get in bed with a girl, even just to sleep.

“No, hey, don’t hide! Come back up, darling,” Sanji coos. “I don’t want to say no, obviously.” Maybe he read your mind. “Why would I want to say no to such a wonderful offer?” Or maybe that strangely confident part of you was right. 

“Come in here, then,” you say without reemerging from the depths of the plush fabric. You realise anew how warm it is under there, and your blood starts pumping faster at the thought of Sanji squeezing in next to you and cuddling close to share that warmth. “So we can both sleep.”

“I—okay. I need to take off some of my clothes, is that okay? Or you’ll be the one freezing.”

You nod before you remember that he can’t see you. “Y-yeah, no problem.” He could strip naked and let you kiss every inch you can reach in such proximity—that would be ideal—but you’ll take a Sanji with three layers on over no Sanji any day of the week. 

You listen to the sounds of shuffling, metal buttons popping open, and quiet curses when his coat drops to the floor and Sanji can feel the cold tenfold. You pretend you’re being very patient, but the way you’re tapping the toes of one foot against the others tells another story. 

“Darling?” he calls, hesitating after he’s taken his shoes off. “My trousers are kind of damp, I can’t—”

“Take those off, too, then,” you interrupt him with the most indifferent, placid tone you can fake. Sanji wears shorts sometimes, when they’re in a stretch of hot weather on the Grand Line, but even his swimwear is usually on the longer side and quite baggy. You’ve only ever seen a few inches above his knees, so your excitement at the prospect of seeing his bare legs borders on comical.

Not that you see much of anything now, either. Sanji manages to take off his pants while hiding most of his body from view, as if he needs to be ashamed of anything, with a physique like his, and the dim light blurs the details of what you can observe. You think his boxers have a heart print on it, but it’s not a safe bet. 

Sanji crawls closer to the edge of the sleeping bag, and you signal once again that he should get in by unzipping the side. “Thanks,” he says, voice huskier than his usual. 

Your breath stays suspended in your lungs as he slips inside next to you. Despite his efforts to not touch you, the space he’s trying to squeeze himself into is smaller than a single bed, and your sides slide together as he lays down. He murmurs a few sorry’s as it happens, but his earlier protests seem to have died down completely.

When the warmth has had a moment to sink into him, he lets out a tremulous sigh of relief—it’s obvious that he needed a break from the harsh weather, and still he never would have asked for it. Your heart constricts painfully at the tremors that shake Sanji's body. He's still trying so hard to keep his teeth from chattering, but there's little he can do for everything else. 

“You've got to stop,” you beg. There's enough anger over Sanji's self-sacrificing tendencies to turn it into a command. 

Sanji tries and fails to shuffle back within the confines of the sleeping bag. “Sorry,” he whispers shakily, “it should get better soon.”

Frustration and fondness form an unlikely mix that grips tight around your throat. “No, no, Sanji, come on.” You move a foot blindly, hooking it around Sanji's calf to still his retreat. “I didn't mean stop shaking or moving. Stop doing stuff like this to yourself.”

“Ah, Mellorine—” Sanji mumbles, and you know, you feel it in your bones, he's going to try and downplay his near-hypothermia and shower you with compliments to deflect your worry. Be it the late hour, the pressure behind your eyes that demands you close them and sleep; be it how cold Sanji still feels or the sweet ache in your bones at being so close to him—whatever it is that imbues you with courage, you decide you won't let him get away with that this time. 

“I don't wanna hear it.” You were hoping to get it out with a firmer tone, but you sound on the verge of tears instead. “Shut up and let me help.”

You reach out, fingers bumping into his shoulder, the soft material that surrounds you pushing and pulling. It seems more than happy to get you closer, folding over your bodies as you shift enough to feel Sanji's chest on yours. 

Shielded by the shadows that cover your face, your lids flutter at the novel sensation. You'd feel ashamed of the tendrils of pleasure slowly pulsing in time with your heartbeat, since, after all, you got this man in your sort-of bed for medical-adjacent reasons, but…it's Sanji. He's never shown anything but breathless gratefulness at being touched by a woman. 

Just in time to squash any lingering doubt, you hear his breath hitch at the contact. He dissolves into a long shiver that breaks his resolve, and suddenly you're gripping him tighter, nose in his fine hair, knees knocking together before you raise one thigh over his. 

Sanji moans softly, in obvious and innocent pleasure now that your body heat is enveloping him properly. “Oh, ‘t feels so nice,” he stutters over your neck, “you really are an angel. Thank you, darling.” 

You almost thank him back on instinct. You might feel nice to him, but he's perfect in your arms, cuddled up as best as he can against you like he wants to sink into you. Gladly, you hold him tighter, burning up now that you have him in such close proximity—your face might as well be on fire, heart pumping hot blood like an overworked engine. He must be able to hear it. Surely all the layers of clothing between you are not enough to muffle the sound of it exploding out of your ribs. 

“You're so silly,” you mumble instead. His hair smells superficially like faint smoke, and like artificial mint from his shampoo when you brush your nose between the soft locks. “Your hands okay?”

You barely bite back a pet name at the end of the sentence. Sanji shuffles to get his arms folded between the two of you, and his closed fists are frigid when they bump into your stomach. “Mh, they've felt better, but it's okay. I’m also pretty sure my toes are all attached, but who knows—’t’s not like I can feel them.” 

You huff a laugh, and his face opens into a boyish smile. You can't see it, only sense his cheeks where his face is touching the naked skin of your neck. ”You joke, but we better check.” At the bottom of the sleeping bag, where there’s more room for movement, you have to swipe your own feet forward before you manage to meet his. Sanji, for all his insistence on being ready for bad weather, hadn’t bothered with proper boots or heavy socks. You hiss in sympathy at how cold his naked ankles really are when you touch them. 

“Sanji, your leg can catch on fire, how did it get this bad?” you mumble into his hair. 

Sanji’s little content sigh that he lets out when your warmer skin stays in contact with his just about breaks you. “I gotta be at least a little mad for the fire thing, Mellorine,” he explains, dismissing the topic with a gentle shake of his head. “You shouldn’t worry so much about me, I’ll be just fine. Don’t let me keep you awake any longer, please.”

You bite your bottom lip to hold back your own plea, wishing you could infuse the very air around the two of you with all that joyful, desperate fondness Sanji evokes in you. He could soak it all up, too tangible to doubt, and he’d feel soothed and weightless as if he’d just lowered his tired body into a hot bath. Frightened as you are to speak your feelings for him out loud, the best you can do is fumble to hold his hands. “We’ll both rest when you’re all better.” Before you can second-guess your intentions, you bring Sanji’s hands under the hems of the shirt and tank top you’re wearing. The first overwhelming impression is that you just shoved ten icicles up against your flank, but the knowledge that a part of Sanji’s body you’ve fantasised about one too many times is now under your clothes is enough to make you melt. 

“Keep ‘em there, it’s warmer,” you choke out quickly, not trusting what your voice will reveal if you let your desire to fully set in. 

“Miss, I—that’s—” Sanji stutters. His palms press more firmly into the dip of your waist, only for a moment. “You’re too good to me,” he settles on eventually.

Your vision is tinted blue from the moonlight filtering through the tent’s walls, and Sanji’s humid breath trickling down the collar of your shirt is making a haze settle over all your thoughts; all in all, this is starting to feel more like a dream you’ve had a thousand times. The oneiric atmosphere is not conductive to make well-thought out choices—but maybe that’s what you’ve needed this whole time. You could have had Sanji like this months ago if you’d found the courage to make the first move. 

While he’s mumbling more of his thanks, throwing a couple more Miss in there like the title is not making your cunt throb, you grab both his wrists and slide his hands up towards your solar plexus. You’re not wearing a bra, which Sanji notices with an accidental brush of his fingertips and remarks on with a gasp that silences his words. He lets you properly slide an arm under his neck, and soon enough you have him moulded comfortably to your frame—entwined legs included. 

“Try to rest, ‘kay?” you tell him. Your thumb swiping back and forth on his nape seems to do the trick; Sanji’s one visible eye slips shit after a couple of slow blinks.

“You, too. Goodnight, angel.”

He goes out like a light. You try to fall asleep, you really do—perhaps it’s physically not possible to do so when your body is firing on all cylinders, begging you to get some sort of sexual relief. Just knowing that Sanji’s legs are naked, meanwhile you are wearing stupid fucking clothes that keep you from feeling his skin on yours, is driving you insane. A couple of minutes of staring off into nothingness while listening to Sanji’s steady breathing calms you down just a notch, so at least now your heartbeat isn’t an active bomb threat anymore, but you’re a far cry from relaxed.

After a while, Sanji starts grumbling and moving in his sleep. You attempt to soothe him by petting his hair, whispering sweet nothings that he won’t remember, but it only gets worse until he wakes up with a confused call of your name. 

He stiffens for a second upon opening his eyes, and you let him move back a little from your embrace. Is he still in pain from the hours spent outside? Were you touching him too much while he slept?

“You okay?” you ask tentatively.

“Mh? Yeah, sorry! I woke you up again?” Sanji refuses to meet your eye. His fingers twitch over your stomach, and he seems shocked to find them still there under your shirts, right before sliding them out. 

The loss of contact saddens you more than you thought possible. “Kind of, I had just dozed off,” you lie. “It looked like you were having a nightmare, though, I was worried.”

“It did? I don’t remember what I was dreaming.” You swear a blush spreads on his face, but the faint moonlight doesn’t help you decipher his expression that well. “I’m good now, darling. Let’s go back to sleep, I promise I won’t wake you up again—I wouldn’t want my princess to be tired tomorrow.”

His princess. That’s a low blow—you can’t argue with him after that. You only nod, bidding him goodnight again, and you’re gifted one of those beautiful smiles of his. 

Determined to not act like a freak this time, and just relax and doze off for real instead of sniffing his hair or whatever the hell you were about to do earlier, you try to settle in a more comfortable position. The goal is not achieved, since you accidentally press one thigh over Sanji’s front, and feel—

“Ah, fuck,” Sanji says under his breath when you gasp. He’s very clearly hard, enough that you can half guess the length of his cock, that’s how obvious it is. 

So he was blushing, and he was not having a nightmare. How did you miss this when you were half on top of him? 

If you were aroused before, it pales in comparison to the sudden, violent heat that starts in your stomach and quickly pools low between your legs. It’s like you got sucker-punched by desire, so much so that you lose your breath with that gasp, and can’t find words to defuse the situation. 

Sanji tries to shuffle away from you, instinctively raising on one elbow like he wants to jump out of the bag. The way he’s pulling on the fabric makes you roll closer to him, and it’s all you can do not to moan when suddenly not only you can feel his erection, but your cunt is pressed so, so nicely over his own thigh. The unfairness of the situation hits you: Sanji can’t hide his physical reaction, meanwhile you’ve been getting wetter and wetter since he got in there with you, and he’ll remain none-the-wiser unless you shove his hand down your underwear. 

The thought of those long, lithe fingers playing with your clit almost makes you black out. You’re trying to stay lucid, but you’d like to see someone else coping with a wet dream come to life. 

“Damn it, I—I’m sorry, I can’t control it. I mean, I can control myself! Just, not it,” Sanji babbles, clearly building up to something close to panic. “It’ll go away, I promise, sorry. I mean…okay, it’ll go away if I stop touching you, that’s what I was trying to do. You’re just…so soft and warm. And pretty, duh! Oh God, why am I still talking. Make it stop, please.”

You snake a hand up his chest until you can press your palm over Sanji’s mouth. You catch him mid-word, but the sentence dies down quickly with a tortured bitten-back lament.

“Calm down,” you say softly. If you sound breathier than intended, it's because you can't hope to hide all signs of your demanding arousal. “It's okay, Sanji. You didn't do anything bad, did you?”

Sanji stares at you for a moment with huge watery eyes, the usually hidden one left more visible by his fringe all knocked askew. 

“Did you?” you prompt him.

His lids drop lower, as he exhales a warm breath over your hand as he relaxes his body at your request. He shakes his head without removing your palm from over his mouth.

You do it for him. “Everything’s fine.” Sanji should never look this unsure and embarrassed, especially around you. You adore him, he’s your favourite everything. Isn’t it obvious? “Sweetheart, lay back down. You’re letting the cold in.”

Sanji’s eyes go wide again, be it because of the first pet name you’ve dared use for him, or the reminder that his seated position is keeping the sleeping bag half open. With one smooth move, he’s laying on his side once again, one hand clutched on the open hem to squish it closer to your bodies. 

“Why aren’t you kicking me out?” he whispers after he’s settled. He bites back a sound when you shift your hips just enough to satiate your curiosity—yes, he’s still hard, and yes, touching his cock even through all the layers of clothes has the same electrifying effect on you the second time as it did the first. “It’s going to be like this all night, Miss,” he commiserates, a little whine behind his tone that snaps whatever composure you had left. 

“Sanji, are you really that blind?” you ask in the near darkness. You cup his cheek in one hand, tucking whatever you can of his fringe behind his ear. “You haven’t figured it out?”

He frowns like he’s either worried or confused, and part of you can’t blame him—you’ve never  spoken to him this way, voice trembling with excitement. You enjoy what you can see of Sanji’s flushed face framed by your fingers, then you close the distance to kiss him. 

With great effort, you keep that first touch brief and chaste. The tip of his nose is cold where it presses gently on your cheek, his lips a little dry, but you enjoy immensely both that perfect cupid bow of his and the tickling sensation of his moustache. When you pull back a millimetre, which is all the distance you can bear to put between you, you’re awash in goosebumps and hot shivers. “I want you, too,” is all you can manage to say to fill the silence.

“Oh,” Sanji replies, “oh, I must still be dreaming.” He nuzzles into your hand, his own freeing the sleeping back to clutch your wrist instead. “I hope I don’t wake up too soon.”

A dopey smile opens on your face—you’re sure you look stupid with love and desire—and you want to put two coherent words together and tell this beautiful smooth-talker that he’s very much awake, or stuck in your dream if anything, but Sanji kisses you again. 

This one doesn’t end quickly; if you have it your way, this one won’t end at all. Sanji tilts his head and slots your lips together with a wanton moan muffled by the contact. Your finger sinks in the soft locks of his hair, slipping like fresh water between your digits as you caress him. There’s not enough space to move freely, to roll on top of him or pull him until he can lay all his weight on you—phantom feelings you’ve chased through your daydreams hundreds of times, and are now just out of reach, but what you get is enough. It’s everything. Sanji moving his arm out of the way so he can wrap you in a half-hug and squish your chests together; your leg pushed between his so you can properly get his flat abdomen and hard cock right up against you. 

His breath hitches as his hips roll forward. With the grip you have on his hair, you instinctively tug his head back, breaking the wet kiss just in time to hear his breathy moan. “No, please, more. Wanna kiss you more,” he begs—and really, who would say no to such a request?

You lick his bottom lip just to put to rest the demon that once made you stare at Sanji’s side profile while he cooked for way too long, whispering in your ear his lips are so plump, wouldn’t they look good on a girl? You don’t know about that, but they are extremely kissable.

At the time you thought that Sanji, who strives to be a real gentleman—emphasis on the man—would be freaked out by those thoughts…seeing how he’s behaving now, maybe that’s not the case. Maybe he’d enjoy being talked to and handled like a precious little thing. Still, you abstain for now, horrified by the idea that you could ruin this long-awaited moment, and content yourself with kissing him silly.

Well. Calling what you're doing to him kissing is an euphemism; you're licking into his mouth as if with enough effort you could taste his soul, and when the push and pull of your bodies separates your lips, he lets you curl your tongue around his in the open air before you pull back properly. 

“‘M so hard, I could come just from this,” Sanji mumbles while you move down to suck over the pulse point on his neck. Your eyes are closed, but they still roll back into your skull when the fading scent of his aftershave fills your senses. 

“You won't have to,” you promise. You grasp at him blindly through the tangle of your limbs and the obstructive plush fabric all around. Sanji, sweet angel, perfect boy, arches to push his hips right into your palm. 

You let out a giggle and a dreamy sigh on the tail end of it when you manage to properly palm his hard cock, even if just above his boxers. You’d be embarrassed by the sound if you were lucid. There are many times when your affection for Sanji simmers gently and far away from lust, but this isn't one of those times.

Sanji stiffens at the first stroke you clumsily give his cock, just to quickly melt again in your arms. “Please, let me touch you, too.” His hands run down your form until he can hook his fingers into the waistline of your pants. “I want you to feel good with me.”

You nod with an enthusiastic hum of assent against the skin of his neck. The first touch of Sanji's fingertips on the naked skin usually covered by the hem of your underwear almost makes you jolt. You follow suit, shoving your hand inside his boxers. “Oh, fuck, yesyesyes,” Sanji mumbles before you’ve even done anything, just closed your fist around the tip of his cock. He’s leaking just enough to smooth the way as you play with him, teasing strokes and swipes of your thumb on the slit. 

It’s not that you’re being mean on purpose, eking out his pleasure like he might just run out if you get too greedy—you’re just so distracted by what he’s doing to you. Already, he had the unfair advantage of your near-obsession with his hands, born mostly from his insistence that they must be reserved for loving acts. He usually means cooking, of course, but Sanji has never hesitated to hold, carry, protect and serve the women in his life with his hands…so can you be blamed for getting ideas? You feel vindicated for each dirty thought you’ve ever had about them in the here and now. As soon as you raise your thigh high on his hip to leave him some space, Sanji slides his hand fully into your panties and cups your pussy like he’s cherishing being allowed to touch you so intimately. He doesn’t leave you waiting for something more substantial, quickly moving to sink his middle finger between your labia, gathering the copious amount of slick wetness. You have one moment to wish he had just pushed inside you before he starts drawing circles over your clit instead, and then the choice to just let him do whatever he wants is easily made. 

“How are you so wet for me? I barely touched you,” he asks with a tone that should be reserved for his first glimpse of the All Blue. 

You almost laugh at that. “I’ve been wet since you took off your pants,” you admit, “and then you kept calling me Miss—”

Sanji tilts his head to make eye contact with you, forcing your mouth away from the delectable line of his neck. “Wait, you like being called Miss? Really?” He has no business sounding shyly pleased; you suspect he uses the title specifically to elicit this sort of reaction—or is it that you have a heightened appreciation for it? You’ve never thought to ask the other girls what they think about it…Nami’s teasing over it would be brutal.

“Don’t take too much advantage of it!” Your pout robs the intimation of its strength, but Sanji’s eyes drop to stare at your lips like he’s hungry to get another taste, and you finish off the attempt at distracting him with a good series of strokes up and down his cock that he seems to really appreciate. He lets out a guttural moan that you’re sure whoever is sleeping in the tent next to you must have heard even above the wind now raging outside.

Sanji must take your renewed efforts as a sign to up the ante himself, and finally he slips a finger inside you. He figures out roughly two seconds in that quick and shallow thrusts make you writhe in pleasure, knowledge he has no qualms abusing until you’re shaking, lingering on the precipice of an orgasm. 

You’re still trying to give him the attention he deserves, but you know your movements over his cock have gone artless and a bit sloppy. “Mmghfuck, Sanji—” you moan through your teeth, biting the neckline of his shirt. You want to kiss him and lick wherever you can but your body is acting on its own. You think you add something along the lines of gonna come, just for you, baby, you want that? but you can’t be sure; maybe you’re just mewling nonsense with your face hidden in his neck. 

Whatever he hears, it’s enough to get Sanji very excited. “Yes, holy fuck, you’re perfect. So good for me.” You don’t know how he does it, but in a quick move he lifts you to lay more heavily on top of him with his free arm, locking it around your waist to keep you still. He’s got two fingers pumping in and out of you with no reprieve, but he hazards a guess and slides them out to focus on your clit again. In an ideal situation you’d like both things at the same time—hell, in an ideal situation you’d be bouncing on his cock already—but at this point you want to come, and being played with like this will get you there. You're clutching both hands around his sides now, palming at his abs, and Sanji’s erection is pressed tight over your hip. He doesn’t complain, taking advantage of how his underwear is riding too low on his hips to grind against you and seek out some friction.

“Like this okay, darling?” he asks with a murmur in your ear. You nod fervently. “Fuck, I really can’t believe this. My whole hand is wet, you’re dripping. Next time—can I—I want to lick until you’re coming on my tongue, I need to know what you taste like.”

Your eyes fly open, all the muscles in your legs and abdomen tensing with pleasure at Sanji’s words, the rumble of his voice thick with desire, the mental image of his blond head buried between your legs. That almost does you in, but the promise of a next time brings a realization—now I can have him like this again and again and again—that makes you fall over the edge. You come with your cheek pressed on his solid chest, one of Sanji’s hands now closed around the back of your neck, your voice stuck in your throat. Wave after wave of shivers run down your spine, wracking your body even as you’re coming down from the high, because Sanji won’t stop rubbing wet circles over your clit. 

“Stop, stop, I need a breather,” you complain, trying to escape his touch—but not really. Even as you’re supposedly squirming away from him, between the stifling top of the sleeping bag, and your leg locked around his hips, it’s clear that you’re right where you want to be. 

Sanji relents, sliding his fingers out of your now-ruined underwear. “Sorry, my love, you just sound so good while lost in pleasure.” He squeezes you in a full hug, pressing a few kisses over the crown of your head. “I can’t believe you let me do that…”

“I didn’t let you do anything. And there’s nothing strange about a woman wanting you like this, Sanji.” You tilt your head up, trying to meet his eye. “You know that, right?”

Shily, he allows the eye contact. You wish it wasn’t so dark in here, but the stronger winds must have brought clouds to cover the moon, and the lanterns Sanji had lit outside had long since died. You can’t see the stunning blue of his irises. 

“If you say so, darling,” he says, much to your chagrin. You hate how often you have witnessed Sanji being rejected, and in hindsight, by virtue of dismissing his advances as unserious, you have contributed to it. But he must have had his fair share of sexual experiences if he can bring a woman to orgasm as easily as he just did with you. 

You hope to have the opportunity to ask him about it. The urge to get to know him better, to be closer in all meanings of the terms, is stronger than ever—but now is not the time. You’ve got something else to focus on. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to believe me. I can just show it to you.” You manage with some more wiggling to get your pants and underwear at least halfway down your thighs. “You thought I was going to leave you hanging, baby? We can’t, uh, go all the way…not right now, I don’t have protection—” you start to explain while trying to slide a bit further up his body.

Sanji starts shaking his head, eyes as wide as saucers. “Oh, no, you don’t have to do anything for me! I can’t possibly ask for more!”

You kiss his lips to silence him. Sanji whines like a wounded animal when you raise yourself just enough to hold his cock again—he has not gone soft despite the lack of stimulation, which doesn’t shock you. This is Sanji, after all. 

“I’ll come and stain your clothes and make a mess,” he says all in a rush, his fingers spasming around your hips. 

“Ssh, it’s okay. Don’t worry about anything, just let me take care of you.” You bring his cock between your legs, forcing them open despite the pant’s waistline pressing into your skin; when you’ve got the hard length pressed over your bare cunt you get your hand back on Sanji’s chest and squeeze your thighs.

You don’t know what feels best for him—clenching your legs as tight as you can, or to leave more space to swing your hips up and down—but whatever you try, Sanji vocally loves it. Despite how cold he had felt when he first got in the sleeping bag with you, he’s now burning up just like you, and you’re both starting to sweat under your clothes. You can feel him leak more precum when you raise up as far as you can and squeeze just the head of his cock between your thighs.

“Oh God, Miss,” he breathes out at that move. His hands slide down to grope your ass, and the feeling of him kneading the muscle there to his heart’s content makes your eyelids flutter. 

“Feels good, baby?” you ask. The question is redundant, but dammit, you want to hear him say it.

Sanji nods with a hum, lips parted and his cute little curled brow frowning in pleasure. “Yes! Yes, you feel perfect, you’re so soft. I would stay between your legs forever if you let me.”

Oh, this man. He doesn’t know how badly he drives you crazy, even when he’s just babbling the first thought he had. You lean down to dip your tongue in his mouth, your hands firmly planted over his pecs. He accepts the kiss easily, moaning each time you nibble his bottom lip or snap your hips down with more vigor. You pull back with a string of saliva still pulling between your mouths. “Next time you can fuck me like this,” you promise. Your mind is clouded with lust again, and you have half a mind to reach down and angle his cock so you can sink down on him for real, but you hold onto sanity enough to avoid that. “As soon as we’re back on the Sunny. You want that?”

“I’ve wanted that since the first time I saw you,” Sanji replies. He grips your ass more firmly, guiding you into moving faster. “I’m so close, please, just keep going.”

You don’t know if you can believe something like that said in the heat of the moment, but either way, he’s just so cute. In your imagination Sanji has been everything from the experienced lover that blows your mind to a playful partner that laughs with you in the middle of sex, and you’ve loved all those versions that existed in your head—but if the real one is this submissive and needy, you have no complaint. Reducing such a powerful and competent man to a moaning mess is nothing short of intoxicating. 

Gladly, you keep doing what you’ve been doing. Sanji begs for another kiss, and keeps you so busy with it that you realise he’s coming only when he gasps open-mouthed over your lips. Hot liquid drips over the back of your thighs—you spare him the overstimulation he inflicted on you earlier, out of the goodness of your bleeding heart, but it’ll be a while before you even consider unclenching your legs from around his cock.

Sanji takes in one last shuddering inhale, and all but melts into the thin mattress underneath him. One wet kiss pressed to his cheek, and you feel him smile as wide as when he serves you, Nami, and Robin some snacks and he gets to listen to all three of you compliment his cooking at the same time. 

“Mh, it’s too hot in here now,” you note with humour, “don’t you think?”

“It’s ‘cause I’m burning up for you, Mellorine,” Sanji replies. You huff a laugh when he attempts an exaggerated wink, which doesn’t work when one of his eyes is completely covered by ruffled hair. 

You slide a little to the side, keeping in mind the streaks of come splashed on your skin as you do so. Sanji lets out a saddened sigh when you’re not pressed skin-to-skin with him anymore, but you’re still so close, your heads only barely peeking out of the sleeping bag. 

“You were right, you did make a mess.” You’ll have to take off your pants off and use them to clean yourself and Sanji somehow—or maybe he’ll volunteer his boxers for the job, still pushed barely down his legs—as soon as you have the energy. 

“Ah, sorry…I usually have very good manners, I swear.” The apology seems genuine, but Sanji is just too giddy to sound contrite. “Hey, can I ask you something? But I don’t want to ruin the moment.”

You smile at him. Now that the adrenaline peak is fading away, your eyelids are once again heavy and ready to stay closed for a good six hours at least. “You can’t ruin it, Sanji.”

“You have a lot of faith in me, darling.”

“Just ask, dummy.”

He clears his throat, embarrassed by his own stalling. “I know that I-I said something about doing this again first, but then you said it, too, and I just—I don’t know if you meant it. Because I did. So, would you like to…?”

“Would I like to? Baby, I’m gonna wear you out.” You would sound much more convincing if you weren’t actively falling asleep. “I’ll ask Franky to build a secret bedroom, and no one will ever see us again,” you mumble before being interrupted by a yawn.

You feel the warmth of Sanji’s fingers caressing your cheekbone, the line of your jaw. You smile thinking of how this started, with Sanji’s poor hands cold as ice shoved under your shirts. 

“I’ll ask you a few hundred times more in the morning, sweetheart. You’re about to pass out, I’ll clean you up myself, okay?”

You think you nod, or maybe you just hum a vague affirmative sound. The last thing you remember, with the rumbling of the wind and the distant raging of the ocean lulling deeper into sleep, is Sanji pressing a kiss on your neck, warm and heavy with affection. 

Omfg. I've had this idea for a while and jumped at the chance to write it when I saw that it could work for my assignment in this exchange. Huge shoutout to @twoflowers for passing onto me the "Sanji calls women 'miss' intstead of using honourifics" demon, as you can all see I've used and abused that idea.

[rbbalmung]

RUN, RABBIT, RUN: Part 2

Wet Cat Activities (and an Impromptu First-Aid Class)

Trafalgar Law x Reader Zombie Apocalypse AU

Part 2 of my @infixop gift for @namism!

CW: Zombies, graphic depictions of blood, death and violence. Named side character (not super relevant), descriptions of decomposition and bugs. No use of Y/N or gendered pronouns.

WC: 8151

<-Prev Masterlist

(A/N at the bottom)

Law wakes up at the crack of dawn. The morning light is just coming over the horizon, casting long shadows across the roads from behind endless skyscrapers. He’s quiet when he stirs, barely moving under his blanket before he shoots up. He’s not wearing his hat. In the early morning light, you can see the flattened shape of black hair, usually hidden.

“Good morning.” You say, blinking the dryness away from your eyes. 

Law turns and frowns at you. “Did you stay up all night?”

You don’t bother to answer, taking a sip of the cold water you procured from your bag. You’re down to one and a half bottles, so you hold the liquid in your mouth, savouring the way it wets your dry tongue and throat. The plastic bottle crinkles in your grip.

Law’s frown deepens. “I’m not letting your lack of sleep hold us behind today.” 

“I don’t intend to let that happen.” You say. 

The morning goes by quickly. After eating a little more of your rations, you finally decide to breach the question that’s been nagging at you all night.

“What’s the plan?” You ask, zipping your grey backpack up around your blanket. 

Law doesn’t look at you. But after a moment of silent contemplation, he answers. “I think we should still try to cross the river. There’s another bridge if we travel further west.”

You don’t try to smooth the disgusted expression that crawls upon your face. Your hands bunch around the straps of your bag, turning to him and asking: “Are you kidding me, Law? Did you forget what happened last night?”

“I have good reason to suggest this.” Law says, as cryptic as ever. 

You can tell he knows something more, and it frustrates you that he doesn’t seem to trust you enough to share. The frustration melts into hot anger, licking at your ears as your mind wanders to Johnny and Yousaku and Michelle. Strangers who took you in despite knowing nothing about your nature. You could’ve been a maniac that gained their trust only to steal resources, yet they still trusted you. Your stomach turns unpleasantly, and you can’t help but let out a few sharp words.

“Just like how you suggested we go to the bridge two days ago?” 

“I did not suggest that.” Law retorts. He’s far too calm in the face of your accusation, arms crossed and expression carefully neutral. “I only confirmed that there are resources on the other side.”

Okay. That part is true. You take a breath. It’s unfair to blame what happened last night solely on Law. It was a combination of factors and small decisions— 

Letting grief overtake you at a time like this is the worst thing you can do right now.

“Sorry.” You mutter. “But you still haven’t told anyone how you know that. We need to work together from now on— so can you at least tell me why?” 

Law stares at you. You meet his eyes. You will not relent. You hope he knows by now.

“I lived on the other side for most of . . . this situation. So I know.” Law says, finally.

Somehow, that sentiment doesn’t surprise you. You blink at him. 

“That explains some things, I guess.” You say, pushing your bag to the side. “So, you know another way to get across? Why are you here, anyway?” 

Law shrugs. “Somewhat. There are a few things that need to be done before I can say for certain. So let’s get going.”

He stands up, swinging his bag over his shoulders. You follow suit, and the two of you leave the roof quietly.

You don’t push the fact that he only answered your first question. 

~~~~

The streets of the city are mostly empty. The offices and residential buildings loom high over you, caging you in like rats in a sewer. Cars still line the roads, some parked by the curb and others haphazardly in the middle of the street. Scorch marks from fires long put out scar over ashen remains. It’s really a pity. Usually, during the springtime your city is an oasis of green. There were flowers on every corner and tall, leafy trees. Now, it’s a barren wasteland stretching out far ahead of you. 

Law doesn’t talk much. You’ve been walking for close to two hours now, and he still hasn’t said a single thing. A few zombies had to be slashed here and there, and you can’t help but feel useless. The only weapon you had was that shovel. The steady weight it had in your hands is not forgotten. 

At least it’s cloudy today. You think as you look to the sky. Suddenly, a cold breeze blows by. The scent it brings catches on your nose. A slight humidity, the distinct petrichor of precipitation.

Shit, you think. Nature is scary. You know this from living on the streets for the last month. A strong wind can knock over shelter, and the scorching sun depletes water sources far too quickly. Humidity is one you haven’t faced quite yet, but the thought of the wet, sopping clothes sticking to your skin and the ailments that come with being too wet for too long is enough to make you shudder. 

And here, all signs point to rain. 

You voice your thoughts to Law. 

“We can keep going until it starts raining.” He responds.

Yeah, whatever. Mr. Efficiency or something, you think. However, the clouds are congregating at an alarming rate. It takes another block of walking before the blue sky disappears behind a battalion of angry grey. Another two blocks, and the grey turns a deep shade of blue. The cold is setting in fast. Without the sun, the wind is able to thread through your jacket, chilling your fingers. There is a certainty within you that if not for the skyscrapers, the sight you would be seeing is one of the impending rain moving closer and closer, turning the streets beneath it the ink black of wet asphalt. 

You turn to Law. “We need to find shelter. Now.”

Almost immediately, a few drops of water hit your head. Then a few more. Then it starts pouring. 

The streets around you are filling up with little fat dots, much like a colour by number scene. You let out a muffled sound, hurrying to maneuver your bag over your head as some form of cover. Frantically looking around, you lock in on an old apartment building with an extended canvas over its entrance half a block down. You start gunning for it, running as fast as your legs can carry you.

Law’s footsteps follow your own— interrupted with the pitter-patter of rain hitting your bag. The rain is coming down really hard. You’re sure it’ll have you soaked in seconds if you don’t get out of it now. Glancing back, the sound of a deep chuckle travels through the thrumming of rain. It startles you enough to make you jump and stumble over your own feet. You almost fall.

Law’s laughing. You didn’t know he could do that. 

“Shut up!” You turn to him, huffing. “If you haven’t noticed, our misfortunes are shared. And what are you doing? Hurry up!”

You duck under the canvas, Law following close behind. 

The rain is really coming down now. All around you, the world is a misty white, broken by little needles of falling rain. You’re still somewhat dry, with the exception of your pants and shoes. The squishy feeling when you move your toes means your socks weren’t able to escape the downpour either. That’s the worst of it. Your clothes will have to dry out with hopes and prayers if the rain does not stop falling. 

“I hope the rain passes soon.” You say. It’s already wet and miserable. The only way for it to get worse is for it to last.

The apartment entrance behind the two of you opens with a mechanical click.

Instantly, Law is sliding his sword from its sheath. It’s out and in his hand before he even turns, and you step back, nerves standing on edge. 

A short guy with dark hair and dark eyes stands in the doorway. His eyes are wide with alarm. He raises his hands, trying to seem as innocuous as possible. “Do you want to come in? It’s quite . . . wet outside.”

Despite his kind words, you narrow your eyes in suspicion. 

“We don’t have anything on us.” Law says. 

You eye his backpack, very much full with things, but not edible things.

“That’s— I don’t plan on robbing you.” The guy says again. He pulls the door open wider. The building is dark behind him, full of shadows. Does this man not have any self-preservation skills? You would not be this insistent with the possibility of getting skewered. 

“I’m Piper.” He says. “I’ve been living here for a while. There’s no one else here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Law turns to you then, questions in his eyes. You frown, eyes darting back to Piper. 

“You can take a look around, if you want.” Piper says. 

Even if you look around, if there are others inside it’s over before you even begin. But then you turn, and the white mist of rain still surrounds you. You shiver. 

Maybe he’s actually nice. Maybe, just maybe, there is someone kind in the middle of the apocalypse trying to help others. You look at Law again, then nod.

He nods back. 

“We’ll take your offer.” Law says. 

Piper beams, opening the door even wider. Law enters first, you follow close behind. 

The lobby smells musty. There are a few armchairs to the left of the entrance, pushed against walls covered in yellowing, flowery wallpaper. On the right, is a rickety set of stairs, its handrails a freshly painted pristine white. Further down the hallway, long shadows criss-cross the emptiness like knitted yarn. It’s quiet, lingering hands stretching out through old cedar floors, only stopped by the thundering rain outside and the small window at the end of the hall. He shows the two of you to a room upstairs. Two hundred two. The second door after going up the stairs. You lock the doors after Piper lets you be, letting Law carefully inspect the place. 

The rain does not stop. 

Piper offers to let you stay the night.

Neither of you object. 

~~~~

You didn’t sleep much again. 

The dawn brought with it more rain. With Law still asleep in the other room, you slowly get up from the spot on the carpet you decided to take, shuffling through to the entrance. You remove the table placed there for extra security, and unlock the door. The hallway is empty. You tip-toe out to the railing, leaning over. The wood creaks and bends, stretching under your weight. It’s mostly dark on the first floor. The shadows seem to shift, making shapes in your eyes. You blink, leaning further down. 

“Hi!”

You yelp, jumping back. Piper is beside you, an easy smile on his face. He holds out his hand, helping you up with a grunt. 

“What’s your name again? I don’t think I asked.” 

You tell him your name after little consideration. He’s probably been lonely, you think, living in such a big building by himself. 

“That’s a cool name.” He says. “Have you lived here long?”

The question catches you off guard. “Like here in the city?”

“Yeah.” He says. 

So you start talking, About yourself, about your life before all this. About your dreams, aspirations, your life now that the world has ended. Piper is easy to talk to, you find, good at wrangling out more words from you even when you think you’re done. It’s more than you even dream about sharing with Law.

“Can I ask you one more thing?” Piper says after you’ve rambled enough that the sun is starting to come up. The rain is still falling, but the soft shade of grey is unmistakable. “Why were you up so early?”

“I’ve been having insomnia.” You admit. Piper hums, moving to stand straight. He stretches, then starts making his way down the hall, slowly. “I think it’s the stress. I don’t sleep well when I’m stressed. Especially with the last three days.” A tired chuckle escapes you. 

“Yeah, sounds like it.” He stops by the window, staring out at the falling rain. 

The silence stretches. You turn away. The wallpaper is coming to life again, the patterns crawling like folklore creatures around the walls. 

“Have you been bitten?” 

What an odd thing to ask. You stop leaning against the guardrail, standing up to your full height.

Piper is walking back towards you, each step slow, careful, like the steps of a predator. The dawn light shining through the clouds is just bright enough to light up the hallway through the window. The thrumming rainfall is a constant— but the low dragging of metal against the wood is not. 

“I know the signs.” Piper says. His eyes are so wide. The black pupils seem to have shrunken. “Insomnia, twitchiness, hunger. I’ve seen many like that right before they succumb. I take it upon myself to put people like that out of their misery.”

“That’s bullshit.” You say. You’re pretty sure you haven’t been exhibiting any of these signs. And you didn’t even know if the signs were real. You haven’t been bitten. You know that. If you were bitten, you wouldn’t be fighting this hard to keep living. “No one actually knows that stuff.” 

“If you are me, then you do.” His voice drops dangerously low. Piper raises his hand. In it, you see the long and disdainful hook of a crowbar. 

You need to get Law. You open your mouth to scream but Piper is already rushing at you. The crowbar swings at your head and you have just enough time to tuck it into your arms. The edge hits your elbow, hook thankfully just missing skin, but it sends a shock of pain and unpleasant numbness through the limb. Stumbling back, you shift your weight and grab the curved end of the crowbar as Piper tries to reel it back. He fights you, the weapon rolling forwards and backwards between the two of you in a frenzied game of tug-of-war. He’s winning— just barely. You can feel the cold metal slipping from your hand as you’re forced forward, drawing closer and closer to the landing. An idea suddenly strikes you— and with his next tug you let go. Piper stumbles backwards with the momentum— and the crowbar flies out of the window behind him with a loud crack, leaving a mosaic of shattered glass in its wake. 

Instantly, the cold wind from the outside pours in along with the rain. Piper hisses, stepping away from the puddle forming on the floor. 

You’re breathing heavily, all senses on high alert. 

“Why can’t you make this easy for me?” Piper wails. He moves towards you, fingers twitching. 

In response, you drop low, backing yourself against the landing wall, readying for anything he might try. 

Click!

Piper spins and you look up. Law comes out from two hundred two, sword lending against his shoulder. He’s in a plain black shirt and his hat is missing. His eyes are narrowed, mouth pulled down in the same frown someone unceremoniously woken up would wear. But then he looks. Really looks. And you see him shift.

“You too!” Piper wails, voice cracking. 

Law tenses. He’s taking the sword from his shoulder when Piper charges at him. 

The sword clatters against the ground behind Piper, useless. You’re still pressed against the landing wall when Piper shoves Law out the window, the remaining wooden frame shattering from the force. Law grabs Piper’s arm, cursing as the man dangles his upper body out in the rain. Piper sneers. You rush forward, grabbing at Piper’s shoulder, trying to get him off but he swings— his elbow makes hard contact with your cheek. 

Your vision blurs with dancing stars and you let go, wobbling towards the landing. The taste of iron fills your mouth with a gush of blood and for a second— you’re stunned. 

Piper pushes Law. You see him teetering for a split second. 

Then he falls

“Law!” You shout, running forward as he disappears out the second story window. You get two steps in before you remember him, Piper, still there and alive. He’s still staring at you, eyes wide and breathing heavy, when he slowly pulls out a knife from his pocket. 

You glance around. The stairs are right beside you, but he might just chase you down. You can run but but— 

Then you spot it. Law’s sword. It’s so close. Just behind Piper and if you time this right— 

Piper lunges for you and you dive, the knife missing you by a hair. Your hand closes over the sword as you slide to a stop against the far wall, right under the dead ‘EXIT’ sign. The sheath slides off easily, and you throw the cover at Piper, using that distraction to scramble up against the wall. You spit out the blood in your mouth and aim Law’s sword right at Piper. 

“Don’t come closer!” The sword feels foreign in your hands but you grip it anyway. Your skin is icy-hot and all you can see is Piper and his knife. 

He hesitates for a moment there. His eyes are filled with a frenzy. He wants you dead— and he’s already shown what he can do. 

He might’ve just killed Law. 

No. You can’t think about that right now. Piper advances, that tiny knife held up, and despite your much larger weapon, you take a step back. 

You need to do this. To protect yourself. You can make a cut on his legs and render him unable to follow you. Then you can go and check if Law’s okay. 

Piper’s staring at you, expression raw. He doesn’t try to stab you. Not yet. 

He’s readying himself. You realize. He’s talking himself up to make the kill just like you. But this is the one truth. You need to get him before he gets you. 

The sword goes through his stomach. The squenching, soft feeling under your hands is alien.

You just stabbed him. You just stabbed someone.

The world spins and on instinct, you pull back, knuckles still wrapped tightly around the hilt of Law’s sword. The feeling of the metal coming out is just as bad as it going in. Blood flows down his pelvis and legs, pooling around his feet at a rate you didn’t want to think about. He takes a step towards you and you step back. His eyes are wide, full of fear. You wonder if he sees the same of you. 

He opens his mouth, and a garbled sound comes out. 

You turn and run.

Law. If you only think about Law you can probably keep your mind long enough to find him and make sure he’s okay and get away. 

You burst out from the fire exit at the end of the hall. The rickety black stairs shake under your weight and the force of the wind. Rain pelts your face, hitting your eyes but you ignore it, hopping down the stairs two at a time. It seems like forever, your hand grazing the railing and the other still grasped tightly around the hilt of Law’s sword, until your feet finally touch the pebbled path of the alleyway. You turn left, then left again at the next opening between the buildings. The sound of pebbles crunching underfoot and falling rain accompany your steps and all you can think about is Law. 

You pray he’s okay. 

The suffocating walls on each side of you break into open streets and you frantically look both ways— relief rushing through you when you see Law standing in the middle of the road, wet coat standing out from the white mist around you. To his right are bushes, a few more deformed than the others. Your footsteps alert him, and he spins to you, a sharp look ready before he realizes it’s you. 

“Law.” You call, jogging the few steps to stop before him. “I’m glad you’re okay— are you okay?”

“I’m fine. What about—” He manages to say before you interrupt.   

“He’s not an issue anymore. Don’t worry about him.” You look away. The sword in your hand is glistening with the rain. It’s almost clean now, the remaining crimson spread around the metal like sunlight dappled upon leaves. “I lost your sheath though. Sorry.”

Law doesn’t press. He does sigh, however, the rain trailing down his face in little droplets. “That’s fine. Just keep holding her now. We need to find a place to wait out the rain.”

“We . . . can go back inside?” You offer. There isn’t a better option. The rest of the apartment is empty, and who knows about the other places?

Law nods. 

The two of you walk back towards the entrance of the apartment building. Ghosts of the path you took the day before haunt your steps, and the vision of Piper leading the two of you into his home flash over reality. Your throat tightens. A chill, more thorough than that of the rain, seeps into your bones. 

Law turns to you. His eyes gloss over with concern and he opens his mouth—

“Did you call your sword her?” The words rush out of your mouth in a shaking string. You need something, anything, to bring you away from the body that is surely laying on the second floor hallway. 

Law blinks. 

“Yes.” He says.

“Is it like the boat thing?” You ask.

Law moves forward again, reaching out to hold the door open for you. You step inside, and the lobby smells exactly the same. Stale. Vaguely like cigarettes. Just like yesterday. 

“You can think of it that way.” Law says. The door closes softly behind him. “Her name is Kikoku, by the way.”

“You named your sword.” You say. “Are you one of those people that give names to everything?” 

Law scoffs, and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up your throat. The tension in your shoulders is finally lifting, leaving behind an exhaustion that grows deep in your limbs. Kikoku is suddenly very heavy in your hand, and you hold her out, urging Law to take her back. 

Law reaches up his left hand— and winces. 

You frown. “What’s wrong with your arm?” 

Law grunts, reaching for Kikoku again, this time with his right hand. You jump out of his reach, carefully setting her against one of the lobby chairs. You turn to Law, crossing your arms. How can you assume Law fell out of the second floor without any consequences? 

“Law. What’s wrong with your arm?”

Law stands there, looking very much like a child caught red handed for some infantile crime. He attempts to mirror your stance, raising his own arms until he winces again. 

“Law.”

“I may have fractured my left forearm.”

Oh. 

“And why didn’t you tell me?” 

Law shrugs. “I thought there were more pressing things to deal with.”

Okay, fair. Law doesn’t know he’s dead.

Actually— you should probably go check and make sure that he is dead.

“I’m going to get our stuff from upstairs.” You say. 

“But what about—”

“He’s not a problem anymore.” You insist. You hope the look on your face speaks for you. To admit he’s dead to someone else— is to admit you killed someone.

Law’s face remains passive, but he relents. “Take Kikoku with you.”

You nod. You pick Kikoku up as you walk to the stairs. Each step is agonizing. The muscles in your legs scream with every lift, and the landing of the second floor looms ever closer. That growing, anxious hole deepens. Slowly, oh so slowly, your eyes begin to level with the landing. You turn so you can see around the bend, and a sigh of relief leaves you when you spot Piper’s still body through the railing, sagging against the door to unit two hundred two. Kikoku’s sheath also lies across him in the hall, dropped there from the altercation. 

You hop up the next two steps, brushing around the railing and his body. Kikoku’s sheath is quickly picked up and tucked under your arm. Opening the door to two hundred two, you spot your bags on the floor. You pull your backpack over your shoulder and Law’s into your free hand. His hat is on the bed, and you grab that too, tucking it under your arm with Kikoku’s sheath. 

Piper still doesn’t move when you step around him again. His blood splashes against your shoes. The fabrics around his stomach are soaked with blood. A familiar queasiness settles in your stomach. You hurry to the landing and don't look up as you descend the stairs.

Law is waiting for you around the corner. You hand him his hat. It goes back on his head almost immediately despite the wet status of his hair. 

The two of you begin moving down the hall. There is no desire to go upstairs again, not with the cracked window and all that occurred minutes ago. The first floor is not much different from upstairs, both sides lined with rooms labeled by floor and number. You pass them by, one by one, until you stop at one of the slightly ajar doors. Just inside, a purple, metallic glimmer catches your eye. You press forward, pushing the apartment door open. 

“Wait—” Law says—

A wave of death hits you. The sweet, rotting smell is strong, and you quickly spot the source. A decomposing body, melting into the carpet beside a purple bat— the source of the metallic reflection. The body is mushy, the skin almost completely gone. Law makes a noise of disgust from beside you as you gag inwardly, lifting the collar of your shirt over your nose. 

“I’m just going to get the bat.” You whisper to Law. You’re not quite sure why you lower your voice so. Maybe, you think, you hope to disturb the dead less than they have been. You shuffle slowly on the wooden floor. The clack of your shoes are soft, and you reach the bat in three small steps. Bending down, you pick it up. The metal is cold in your hands, but strong all the same. It’s sturdy, and you turn, ready to leave, when a sound from deeper in the house catches you attention. Glancing towards the little opening at the far end of the living room, you spot the telltale deformed shadow of a zombie. 

You look to Law. It’s just one. You’re sure of it. And whatever happened in this apartment, it must be the romantic tragedy of some poet. It’s not a story you will know, and now, you can’t let that thing keep wandering around. 

“I’ll get it.” You say. Law’s silence is his agreement. 

You adjust the bat in your hands, lifting it in a ready position. You shuffle down the room, around the carpet and couch in the living room, slowly approaching the entryway. You stop right before the entrance. 

It’s a kitchen. The big windows look out to the side of the building beside it, letting in faint grey light. Rain splatters across the glass like snail trails, drawing long patterns. It’s a beautiful backdrop for the hideous creature knocking itself against the far counter. 

You tighten your hands around the handle. 

One zombie is not so scary as you shuffle closer. Its decomposing skin is greyish, and you gag a little into your mouth when you spot the shadows of maggots crawling just below the surface. Flies buzz in an ever constant hum now. And, as much as you wish, you can never get used to the smell of death. It makes your eyes water, blurring your vision. You can’t hesitate anymore. 

You lunge for it. Your bat makes contact with its head— bone breaking with a sickening crunch. It goes down without much of a fight. The skin breaks in an explosion of rotting flesh and blood, a wave of maggots crawling over each other in a clear desperation not so different from your own. They spill over the counter, down the wood flooring, and around your shoes.

Your head goes blank. Your arms don’t feel like your own. The motion seems automatic— the only thing you can keep doing— the endless repetition of the head of the bat making contact with that twitching mess of rot below you. Outside, with the adrenaline and sun and howling wind, slaying a zombie never felt as visceral as this. 

A soft call of your name freezes you. The bat slips from your fingers and you stumble back. Pain from the sharp edge of the kitchen counter startles you enough to breathe again, a gasp shooting from your throat as you spin, leaning against that same counter, gagging. 

“Are you okay?” 

You look up at Law, startled. 

“That is a hell of a question.” You say. “Are you talking about this,” You gesture behind you. “Or this?” You throw your arms out. 

It feels like you’re losing your mind. The incident earlier. This second wave of adrenaline. You can’t breathe, you’re exhausted and the sight of blood has carved itself into your mind. You stumble forward towards him. The world is both upright and sideways, and you drop down into a little ball, wrapping your arms around your head as you lean against the kitchen counter, sobbing. You want to sleep. But you can’t. Not right now. Not when Law is still untreated and you haven’t even found a safe, zombie-free place to spend the night. 

You feel a hand wrap around your own, urging you to stand. 

“It’s filthy here. There’s another room down the hall that’s empty. Com’on.” 

His hand is warm. Comforting. And it’s nice that he doesn’t offer to go upstairs. You force your focus on him. Only him. Somehow, you find the strength to stand. Your legs are shaking, and warm tears slide down your cheeks. The sticky cold of your clothes seeps into your bones. The world is blurred, and your head hurts. From exhaustion or the cold or disgust, you have no idea. 

Law pulls you closer then, awkwardly wrapping an arm around your shoulders. His body, warm and alive, grounds you. You take a heaving breath, resting your forehead against his chest. The tears are slowing. The little control you feel is back, and you turn around, picking up your bat. The end is almost alive with wriggling maggots and crushed ones. 

If you had more food in you, you’re sure you would’ve thrown up by now. But you don’t. You pick up your new bat by the handle, and follow Law out of the kitchen, past the blue couch and matching carpet, where you wipe the remains from the metal. It leaves streaks of mush in its wake. Tomorrow, if you make it until then, you’ll clean your new weapon more thoroughly. 

Law waits for you outside. He looks more concerned. That’s another thing you never expected to see from him. There are no words shared even as Law leads you down the hall, to the very last room at the end. You push the door open, and he locks it behind you. 

The layout of the apartment is quite similar to the one you were in before. The living room is arranged slightly differently, with smaller armchairs, a coffee table, and a T.V instead of just carpet and a couch. The kitchen, one that probably looks the same as the one earlier, gleams at you from the other side of the room. You look away. 

Law needs help right now. Think about Law.

“Do you know first-aid?” You ask him. You didn’t. You were planning on taking a class but then the world exploded. 

“Yes.” Law says, hesitating. But then he continues. “I was a surgeon before all this.”

You blink, then send him a shaky grin. There’s an urge in you that needs to be cheeky. You’re pretty sure it’s the trauma. “Oh. That means you can talk me through fixing your arm, right doctor?”

Law scoffs. “You can’t fix a fracture. It needs to heal on its own, and we need to brace it so that the bone sets properly. ” 

“Details, details.” You turn then, starting towards the other doorway across the entrance. “We should probably get you out of the wet clothes first.” 

You push the flimsy door open to a bedroom. There is a large bed in the middle, covered in maroon sheets, with a wardrobe tucked neatly at its side. At the far side is another door. One you assume goes to the bathroom. 

You step across the creaking wood floors and enter. 

The bathroom is small, with a tub on the far side and a window above. The light is soft and grey, but it’s enough to see most things. You turn around to Law. He’s followed you in, still quiet, and his arm is still limp at his side.

“Sit down.” You say to him. Law looks around, before deciding to gingerly sit down on the closed toilet lid. He’s only wearing a black shirt and pants. They’re both soaked. You lift his hat by the rim, setting it on the counter beside you. Then, you carefully pull the corner of his sleeve, urging him to take his good arm out. The wet fabric clings to his skin. It jostles his other arm as you try to tug the sleeve off. Law grunts slightly, sound penetrating the silence. You freeze. 

“It’s fine.” Law says. “It just hurts a little when you touch it.” 

You take a deep breath. Trying to ignore the queasy feeling crawling up your back. “If you say so. But let’s try something else.”

You let go of his sleeve, instead reaching down to the hem. Your hands are gentle, slowly lifting the fabric. The expanse of cold skin grows ever-larger. You urge the shirt over his head, your fingers brushing against his cheekbones. Then you nudge his good arm out. You get ready for the hardest part, the part where you try to get wet, tight clothes off a fractured arm, but then you pause. 

His body is covered in tattoos. Swirling black ink loop over sharp muscles. Hearts and circles and patterns you have never seen stretch over his chest and shoulders and arms. The patterns are so pretty. The edges are all slightly blurry, a show of time passed. You can’t help lifting your hand, ghosting just slightly over the bottom of the large heart stretching right over his chest. Your fingers brushes just barely against his skin, following the pattern with your eyes. 

“Your tattoos are so pretty.” You say. Law inhales. His abdomen tenses under your fingers.

You rip your hand away in a flight of mild, confused panic.

“Sorry.” You mutter. You glance up then, eyes meeting his. The pair of gold are gazing at you with an inexplicable softness. 

You turn away before that look can drown you. Twisting your hands together in front of you, you look anywhere, everywhere that is not Law. “Let’s get your shirt off completely first.”

You stand. You already thought about how you’d do this. Wiggling your fingers into the shirt from the shoulder hole, a little space is created around his arm. His skin is icy under your fingertips, interrupted by a slight, swelling bump. You swallow, trying to keep your hands steady despite the uncomfortable feeling. Slowly, the material nudges downwards, and you reach to pull the sleeve from his hand. It’s like an inchworm, bunching up and extending, until finally, his hand comes out from the sleeve opening.

You unceremoniously discard the garment behind you. 

“What do I need to do?” You ask him, resting your hands on your hips. Your heart is pounding. It’s easy to ignore the way injuries gross you out if you’re not looking at it. 

Law is still looking at you that way. But he speaks with a steady professionalism that almost knocks you over from the contrast. “Best case scenario, we first get a stabilizer for the forearm. A piece of wood or hard plastic can work. We also need bed sheets and a pair of scissors. If you can find all these, that would be great.”

“It’s like a scavenger hunt.” You say, feeling the edges of your lips tilt up. “Do I get a prize at the end?”

“Depends. If you do well ‘fixing my arm’, you might get something.”

“Really? What is it?”  

Law glares at you. There’s no real malice behind the look.  “Depends on how you do. Now get moving.”

“Whatever you say, doctor.” You laugh, heading out from the bathroom. 

First things first, you take a look in the living room. There's a sewing kit under the coffee table. You rummage through the threads and needles, feeling a sense of victory when your hands close around a pair of red fabric shears. 

Now, for the stabilizer. There aren’t many flat hard plastics or wood planks in the average household. You look around, trying to find something that could work as a replacement. Your eyes land on a hardcover textbook shoved under the T.V. 

Hm. You think. It's time to improvise. You pick up the textbook. It’s for some advanced math subject you remember crying over in school. You bend the cover back, and rip. 

It doesn't budge. 

You try again. 

Its cover still doesn't come off.

You hold up your newly found shears. The sharp point goes through easily enough, leaving an edge of rough, jutting material. You open the shears, carefully holding it open like a knife, and gently scrape the mess. The extra pieces are slowly falling off, leaving a little pile of dust beneath you. Satisfied with the newer, smoother look of the cover, you tuck it under your arm with the shears.

The next course of action is the bed sheet. You head back to the bedroom, straight to the wardrobe. Pulling open the heavy drawers, you shuffle through them, going from top to bottom. A drawer of shirts, then pants, then miscellaneous towels and sheets. You pull one of each out, eyeing the clothes for Law’s size.

Law is right where you left him. You hand him the towel and shirt, and set the textbook cover on the counter. 

“Now what?”

“We need the bedsheet to be triangle shaped.”

“What kind?” You ask, spreading the fabric out on the ground. 

“Isosceles.”

You follow Law’s instructions, slicing through the fabric with ease. Patches of the cloth fall away, leaving an isosceles triangle with a large base. You then fold the extra pieces strategically into long strips. While you were busy with the bed sheet, Law slipped on the T-shirt you got for him. It’s just a little small, stretching across his chest. You stare pointedly at the wall behind his head.  

Law, thankfully, does not seem to notice your predicament. He holds out his arm for you, and the textbook cover is already tucked under the fracture.  “Since my forearm is the problem, we need to stabilize it. First, tie the two strips, one right above my wrist and the other below my elbow. Make sure to tie the knot under the brace.”

You do as he instructs. The bed sheet strip loops around his upper arm twice, then you cross it under the cardboard hardcover and pull.

Law doesn’t scream. But he does inhale sharply, body following with a noticeable jolt. Vertigo hits you, that familiar queasy feeling fogging your mind. You never liked looking at injuries. Your own or anyone else's. That’s why you always played it safe, avoiding situations that may cause you pain and refusing to go into medicine. You regret that a little now. If you had studied medicine like Law had . . . maybe you would feel less grossed out now. 

“You’re shaking.”

Law’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You blink, taking a deep breath, and the world stabilizes enough. 

“Just . . . give me a minute.”

You take a few grounding breaths. The queasiness subsides enough to think again. Your fingers tremble as you double knot the tie under the stabilizer. Then, you repeat the same process with the other strip of bed sheet just above his wrist. You give both a careful tug— and they hold.

“What’s next?” You look up at Law, hoping he doesn’t notice the uneasy look that is surely all over your face.

“You’re doing great.” Law says. He gestures to the cut bed sheet. “We’ll make the sling next. Turn the point to my arm. Yes, like that. Pull this corner under my arm and behind my neck. Now take the other corner and tie it behind my neck.” 

You do as he says. The bed sheet goes under his arm, then over. You press the corner on his shoulder, and lean forwards with the other one. It’s hard to see over him when he’s seated— and you're practically draping yourself onto him in your attempt to tie the knot behind his neck. Your thawing fingers fumble against his warm skin, and from here, you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. He’s so close, his face brushing against your shoulder, hair tickling your cheek—

The knot is so hard to tie from this angle.

You back away, the corners of the sling once again free to fall. 

“Can you please get down? It’s hard to tie the knot.” You do not acknowledge the pounding of your heart. 

Law scoots off the toilet, slowly lowering himself to the floor. The makeshift sling has somewhat fallen off— so you kneel before him, going through the motions he led you through one more time. You try to drape the other corner around him first. You reach out, lean forward— and this time— a little too far. You’re falling before you realize, knocking Law down backwards. 

His back hits the tiles first. You land on our arms, hands splayed out on either side of him. The shock travels through your shoulders and knees, aching the bones just slightly. You try to get up, but Law begins moving too and his flailing arm hits the inside of your elbow just so that you fall down again into that mess of tangled limbs and legs. The bottom of Law’s shirt is slowly soaking from your own wet clothes, and you feel yourself shrivel at the feeling of his muscles under your fingers. 

This is so embarrassing. You look up at him, lifting your head from his chest and you realize he’s looking at you too. 

Your eyes meet. Deep hues melt into pots of gold, and the sight makes you shiver. Your breath catches in your throat. You feel a hand— his hand— rest on you back. 

The touch startles you enough to rip you from his gaze.

“Sorry!” You shoot up, scrambling to unstraddle his thigh and get away from him, away from the heat flooding into your ears and the intensity in his eyes. 

He gets up too. There’s a look on his face, one that makes you think he wants to say something. But you don’t want to know what it is. 

“Let’s try this again.” You blabber, stopping Law before he can even start. One more time, you go through the motions of swaddling his arm. You’re careful not to touch him, not to look at him. This time, you hold on to both corners and awkwardly shuffle behind him, successfully tying the double knot against the nape of his neck. You do not let yourself linger.  

“There. Is this good?” You stand up, walking around Law. 

Law drops his shoulder. The sling sags, but holds. 

“Yes. Thank you.”

You exhale a sigh of relief leaning against the wall beside you as you stare down at him, wondering what to say. The idea strikes you a second later, and you smirk, pulling on the teasing tone from earlier. “So . . . what’s my reward?”

“Bold of you to assume you even got a passing grade.” Law says, moving to his feet. “You knocked your patient over.” 

Your neck instantly burns in a rush of heat, boldly different from the one minutes ago.

“Look,” You start to say, but stop when he reaches towards you. His hand comes startlingly close to your cheek. And before you can even register what’s happening—

Law flicks your forehead. Hard.

“Ow!” You jump back, hands coming up to the wound, a retaliating kick quickly landing on his calf. It’s not malicious, with just enough force that he feels it. “What was that for?”

“I’ll tell you everything.” He says.

You stand there, confused. “Huh?”

“I’ll tell you everything.” Law repeats. “About why I know so much about the other side. About why I’m here.” 

You stare at him, unsure of what to say. 

“There’s a safe place out there.” He says, still as cryptic as ever. “But right now, I want to finish changing so you can too.” He gestures at you and your still wet clothes, cold and drying at the edges. 

You, in turn, eye his pants. “I trust you don’t need help for that?”

Law rolls his eyes at you. 

The confession doesn’t shock you as much as it might have. Maybe the sleepless nights are finally catching up to you. Either way, you think you’re okay with moving on right now.

“Okay doctor.” You laugh, striding to the door. “Don’t take too long!”

He takes a lot longer than you thought he would— without accounting for the arm. By the time it’s your turn to change, you already have a set of clothes picked out and are also more than half dry. You’ve also reached the conclusion that you trust Law enough to believe whatever he’s going to tell you, and he trusts you enough to finally tell you what’s actually going on. 

When the bathroom door closes behind you, you strip yourself of your wet clothes. It’s thrown in a soggy pile with all the other garments. The clothes you choose for yourself fit decently well. They’re comfortable and dry.

Law is on the bed when you come out of the bathroom significantly less wet. 

“I found these in the kitchen.” He holds up a stack of canned turkey and crackers. 

Your stomach growls.

~~~~

It’s not a gourmet meal, but it sure feels like it after a month of canned soup. You push the crumbs of dinner onto the floor, shaking the bed sheets free from residuals.

It's then that the fatigue of the day truly hits you. Your eyelids are so, so heavy, limbs dropping against the bed and Law seems to notice, for he nudges you towards the pillow, urging you to lay down. But you shake your head. “You still haven’t told me anything.”

“You’re exhausted. Sleep first. I’ll still be here tomorrow.”

Your stomach does a loop. A day ago, if he said those words you wouldn’t have believed him. But now . . . 

“Okay. You stay. I’ll go to the couch.” Law stops you as you try to slide off.

“Why?” He asks. “This bed is big enough for the both of us.”

You stare at him then. A vague idea of you resting by the door to stop him from leaving haunts you. But you can’t say that. It’s embarrassing. And you don’t think he would just do that anymore. But your mouth moves before you can stop it. Maybe it’s because of the exhaustion of the day, but all the insecurities begin to spill out like water from a broken dam. In a small and broken voice, you confess: 

“I don't want you to leave.”

“I’m not going to leave you.” He scoffs immediately, but then softens. He reaches out his pinky, looping it with your limp one resting against your leg. “If it makes you feel better, I promise you. And sleep on the bed.”

“How old are you?” You let out a chuckle, full of a genuine sound you didn’t know you possessed. The anxiety is not completely gone. It’s still there, right under the surface. But you think it’s quelled enough to rest. The euphoria of a soft mattress beneath you is lulling you right to sleep. Your eyes are so heavy. With your stomach full of food and all that’s happened today, it feels like your physical body is ready to give out at any second. You lay down against the pillow, closing your eyes. The weightlessness of sleep cradles you, tipping you along the edge of dreamland.

You don’t remember anything after that.

A/N: I got an offer to take a free first aid class in the middle of writing this fic so i did. It was lowkey really fun and the entire time i was giggling like a madman because I can now write semi accurate medical treatment :D

shout out to my doctor friend as well, she read over law's instructions and was like "yep, a medical professional would say this" so slay your exams girlie <3

The textbook is also a linear algebra textbook (i hated that class so much)

lore for anyone interested: The city geography is based on Albertan prairie city geography where the city is split in half by a river. Most of the time the downtown is on one side and the lower human density residential areas on the other. That how i decided on the climate as well, it's just prairie climates LOL, in the spring and summer we tend to get rain for either twenty minutes or DAYS depending on how the sky is feeling

[rbbalmung]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤtreat me like a dollㅤㅤ＼ㅤtrafalgar law sugar daddy texts: one, two, threeㅤㅤ𖥟

トラファルガー၇⃪⃖ꪆ୧ㅤ𝒕. law x fem! readerㅤ 𓊉 ㅤㅤ───modern au, lami and law are further apart in age, swearing ᭮ ━─⠀ ❤︎ ㅤ2025©vyainide ㅤㅤ︶ིྀᩧㅤ1864lib

vyon's mouthpiece. self indulgent cause capitalism has found yet another victim (me)

[rbbalmung]

𝑨𝒓𝒕 𝑫𝒆𝒄𝒐

♱‧₊˚. pairing: dom!hwanghyunjin x sub!femreader 𓈒 ୨९⟡₊⋆∘ synopsis: An eccentric and peculiar artist, whose art is well known for its captivating and erotic method, is fascinated by you, who naively thought you just accepted a small job for him. ೨౿ ⋆ ˚｡ genre — warnings: MDNI, smut, shibari ropeplay, dubcon, bdsm, sex toys, impact play, spanking, edging, overstimulation, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names. ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ word count: 9.3k

♬⋆.˚ art deco by lana del rey ♥︎ closer by nine inch nails ♥︎ tear you apart by she wants revange ♥︎ red lights by stray kids

(𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 '𝟮𝟰) ₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚. 04: artist

wen’s note: bitch christian grey who, also red lights is a rope bunny slut wbk

The distant scent of cigarette smoke hit your face along with the cold night breeze. You shrank into your jacket, feeling your whole body shiver with cold as you waited for the driver you paid for in an app, to wait outside the large chateau property in the middle of nowhere.

It was cold and you felt the anxiety that there was no one left but you.

You heard footsteps behind you and with a shiver you turned, seeing how from the darkness and dim light emerged the bearing of a tall man in a suit.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t recognize him, someone like him would stand out anywhere. Hwang Hyunjin. A handsome adult with long black hair as shiny as night and slitted, villainous eyes in contrast to the rest of his smooth, harmonious face with beautiful bushy eyebrows, a straight nose, and full lips. He was so beautiful and handsome that he also became the model sometimes.

Hyunjin came out for fresh air and he noticed you, he had noticed you from the gallery, the young girl making little notes. Hyunjin had counted the journalists in his exhibition and knew their names and faces but you… he had never seen you, you were too young to work in journalism or as a critic, and yet you still took your notes.

Hyunjin approached you, playfully puffing on his cigarette.

“What did you think of today’s exhibition?”

You looked at him, surprised, you had never been that close to him or talked to him directly but you certainly knew his voice from the one or another interview you saw on the internet. Ah, the great exhibition today by Hwang Hyunjin, you were grateful and amazed that you had gotten a spot to be able to attend. His latest art exhibit, a compilation of sculptures, paintings, and photography inspired by 1920s nightlife, Art Deco, The Great Gatsby, Fitzgerald and Zelda, Hemmingway, Lempicka and Picasso, in a place perfectly with an interior design exactly referring to that era. Hyunjin never did small exhibitions or hung around in small galleries, if he exhibited his art he did it big, in the famous Hwang chateau with a very strict list of upper-class guests, it was not only an exhibition, but a fashion show and almost a carpet event as his dress code was strict and even the most important fashion magazines and designers attended.

You were surprised that he suddenly walked up and spoke to you. You had been lucky enough that the university had gotten you a very coveted spot at the event. You had enjoyed his art… you just couldn’t lie about feeling a little uncomfortable seeing it for the first time in person with your own eyes. His classic and characteristic section of somewhat erotic photographs of women being tightly bound. The photos showed naked and semi-naked women with their red, slightly purple limbs, signs of how truly tight the ropes must have been. But Hwang Hyunjin was praised for his play with eroticism and a popular fetish practice.

In fact, there were so many unsolved rumors and mysteries regarding the uproar of those photographs, of which you were very curious about.

You had to be honest, you were in front of the artist himself, which is very busy and coveted in the art world, you didn’t have that opportunity every day; plus it was what you did, you wrote your most honest thoughts.

“I thought it was beautiful, wicked, perverse and devious.”

You added a bit of mischief and sarcasm in your tone, throwing in a few popular adjectives of which they catalogued his art over the years, an amusing reference that Hyunjin understood perfectly and you were relieved that he did, as if you had instantly connected. He laughed playfully, forming a smile that showed his teeth and narrowed his eyes.

“Wicked and devious, who are you, The New Yorker?” he took another puff of his cigarette, “They called me wicked and compared me to a politician, how dare they, fucking bastards. I prefer the version of The New York Times.”

Erotic and provocative. An artist born to succeed. Art whose photography arouses more than one feeling. Once in their lifetimes, unique art that happens once in many years. The one Hwang Hyunjin. Young and ambitious.

You smiled, as he was clearly just playing along and feigning an angry tone.

“By the way, I’m Hwang Hyunjin” he added more softly staring at you, stepping on the butt of his cigarette.

“I know, nice to meet you, Mr. Hwang.”

He raised his dark eyebrows as he licked his lips, waiting for an answer.

“And… you are…”

“Y/n” you replied, repeating it with your last name.

Hyunjin looked you up and down for a few seconds and your compliance vanished from you in seconds, now you were nervous, feeling penetrated by his gaze in that cold, dark night. You couldn’t lie, Hyunjin was fucking hot and handsome, his scent exquisite and his presence out of this world, he was worthy of a work of art on his own.

“Mmm… I see” he met your eyes again, “Did you come as an enjoyer or a critic?”

“A little of both” you said proudly with a smile.

“Mmm, you can never be both” cold weather steam now coming out of his mouth every time he spoke, “You work for some magazine… are you waiting for someone? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a face like yours before…”

You almost fell at his feet at his soft rambling tone of voice, you almost believed him and fell for his charms that you were sure was just another one of his moves as an artist. So you just let out a soft chuckle, but his face reflected subtle genuine confusion.

“No… I’m here for college, I also study art, I got on the list… I have a little blog of my exhibition reviews.”

Hyunjin listened to you carefully, “Ah… I had no idea a college girl would come…” he whispered almost to himself, “And a blog? Like… written? People still use that?” he added amused

You smiled, “Well so far it’s going well.”

“I’m glad. You’re going to write about this? What’s it called?”

You knew exactly what to write about, a charming, playful artist with a mysterious haze about him, you were not to be fooled by his charms…. Hwang Hyunjin was still hiding things.

“Sure, it’s called Red Lights.”

“Ah, of course I’ve seen it, you do those reviews?” your eyes reflected mild surprise, “I liked that write-up about Lee Felix’s fashion collection… but I don’t remember seeing you there on your blog.”

You lightly bit your lower lip feeling a little flattered that someone like him would read something like that, maybe it came to him because of the last review you did of his exhibition months ago that you saw online.

You called his art and method erotic, like many other major media, but it wasn’t just because it was nude… it was because there really was something erotic about it. First, the bondage of the woman was shown, and in another photograph the genuine and true face of pleasure itself, a twisted pleasure, a wicked smile, and shiny tears. That left as much to the viewer’s imagination as the popular belief that it was evident that Hyunjin was pleasuring or performing sexual acts on his models. In your writing, you revealed that Hyunjin himself had exposed liking that sort of thing, such as discipline and light physical abuse. You did not call him a sadist as such since it was just a pair of nudes and ropes tightly bound a woman’s body and upper limbs and their faces with tears of joy. You mentioned the mystery that the photograph captured and left a faithful follower of Hyunjin wondering how it was always a different woman. He had no fixed muse, despite also expressing how romantic he was.

You suddenly felt insecure remembering your review of him, you left more questions than answers but you couldn’t help it. No one really knew Hyunjin outside of the public eye. He could be whatever, his attitude now could just be part of his technique, he was a spontaneous artist, many times compared to Helmut Newton, but you weren’t sure about that, Hyunjin’s art was more haunting and in color.

“You haven’t seen me because I never show my face. I only write. But my instagram is there.”

Hyunjin let out a giggle and you blushed instantly, your body heated in embarrassment, why would you say something like that to an artist much older than you that you had a certain social media. A notification on your cell phone interrupted you, the driver texted that he was close to arriving.

Hyunjin thought it was cute that a beauty like you wasn’t a bit snooty and showing your face, making short art information videos, as it was obvious you had little influence, attending fancy events, dressing well, but still kept to the old method of simple writing. Maybe you were the one looking for a real position in one of those magazines. Maybe you were a beautiful girl stuck in the present day with an old soul.

He couldn’t deny that you had absolutely captured his attention. He was smitten. You were young and smart, but care and rough sex could make you dumb, which was what his deepest, most perverse thoughts hid.

“Sure, a face like yours is unique…” you smiled shyly, ”I’d remember and recognize it everywhere.”

The driver was getting closer and closer to his destination. Hyunjin licked his lips softly and a silence formed in the cold night. He questioned… whether to do it… when every girl he chooses, he studies and gets to know her first, but you arrived so spontaneously, dressed in a Maison Margiela by Galliano that gave those touches of a classic 2000’s Dior.

He acted impulsively.

“What are you doing this Monday afternoon?”

Your heart raced. If he said so, you’d cancel anything.

“Nothing in particular, I’m going to college early.”

“Are you interested in modeling for me?”

Monday, but what a strange and rushed day. Hyunjin didn’t even have plans to start his work at once, but he didn’t want to let you go. He wanted you in his art, somehow something about you connected so much with Art Deco.

The car stopped in front of you right with the descriptions that came in the app. Hyunjin didn’t think you would leave so suddenly, he didn’t even contemplate it.

You thought about it… modeling for him… it meant posing nude? And if the rumors were true… you would be subjected to sexual activity. It was the perfect opportunity to see with your own eyes and fully experience the true process and method of Hyunjin’s art.

“Can I ask you something?”

Anything, Hyunjin thought. He nodded, sensing that the situation was being rushed since you had to get into the car.

“Can I write about it?”

“Deal” Hyunjin didn’t even think twice about it, he would see how he would manage, “I’ll send you the details later. See you soon.”

You got into the car and Hyunjin closed the door for you, bowing with a tender smile that you caught a glimpse of from the window. You wondered if he was staying alone in the huge chateau.

You would finally find out what’s really going on behind the camera.

Only Hwang Hyunjin could make your Monday so fucking interesting. You were about to spend the afternoon with him and that made you nervous, despite having received all the information in the e-mail where it was specifically worded by Hyunjin’s staff that it would be a simple portrait modeling.

You were slightly disappointed, not because you expected to be tied up and have sex with the most handsome man your eyes have ever seen, but because you wanted answers to all the questions that caused a buzz in the art community, you thought you would be special and be the first to write details about working for Hwang Hyunjin, because every woman he photographs are young and unknown to the public and not much is known about them, not even Hyunjin shows them in his exhibitions so that the public knows that they are real, that they existed and are not just art captured from him… or maybe they were just that. By working for him you became his property and immortalized as such, maybe the beautiful twisted women were others in their daily life.

Still… you hoped you could ask him a few questions and maybe he might reveal something.

Hyunjin was specific with your makeup, natural, with subtle gold with silver glitter eyeshadow and thin-pencil eyeliner. His team showed you in the email the example and sent you exactly the right eyeshadow, foundation, soft blush in a cool pink shade, and the perfect nude shade of silky lipstick. You complemented the makeup hoping it would be what Hyunjin had wanted. He had also been specific with the clothes, nothing that would make marks on your skin, from tight underwear or clothes.

You arrived at the address Hyunjin gave you. A lonely loft building, owned by Hyunjin, where he had his photography equipment and a small studio. Upon entering it was nothing like you expected, everything was perfectly decorated, you should have seen it coming from him.

He greeted you with a smile and you were surprised how he became more handsome in two days… or you were beginning to see him differently after your little paranoia you kept looking for things about him, you couldn’t deny it, he had a unique beauty and charming personality without even trying, something that captivated you and trapped you.

But it was very well known that Hyunjin was a guy who loved to party despite being reserved, he was the perfect combination of a partying artist, lonely, mysterious, and romantic, all his love life was very well hidden, and nothing was known about him romantically other than his art, lifestyle and the way he expresses himself.

Hyunjin saw you with a sparkle in his eyes, knowing you would document everything later. His plan was to go moderately slow, though he couldn’t wait and was itching to tie up your body until you were bruised. But first, he would charm you, with little details and photo shoot appointments, and before you knew it, he would be offering you something much more interesting. He recognized that the process could take days, weeks…

“Welcome. You look beautiful, my godiva. I’ll show you around.”

“Godiva?”

You followed Hyunjin and he turned with a tender smile continuing his walk. Hyunjin looked so good, wearing all-black attire, a thin turtleneck sweater and pants that matched his manly long legs, with his hair slicked back and ring details on his long fingers and a watch on his wrist.

“It is one of my favorite paintings with a story, a pretty and kind woman whose kindness and heart changed her ambitious husband’s mind and helped the village, in exchange for a shameful sacrifice, you know the story?”

“I know it, yes… why did you call me that?”

“Do you want an explanation for everything, don’t you, sweet girl?” he looked at you amused, “Because you are my kind woman. For today. My muse.”

You felt a good shiver. You were happy but at the same time you thought maybe then it’s something he says to every woman who passes through here or works for him. Just another part of his tricks.

You didn’t understand why you were suddenly making such a big deal out of it, it wasn’t like someone like Hyunjin was magically going to fall in love with you.

Hyunjin showed you around, telling you details and stories while you listened to him carefully… but there were times when you got lost in the movement of his lips, you couldn’t help it, so full, so kissable; he noticed it and an occasional mischievous, shy smile escaped from him, normally he felt like he had the highest ego… but with you, it felt like the innocence of a first date.

“Wouldn’t you be taking notes of everything I would tell you?” he paused in his talk to tell you.

You opened your eyes slightly, you knew exactly what to write. Your evening with a real artist, an attractive and charming one, all your college girl classmates would go crazy. Anyone who saw Hyunjin would have a crush on him.

“Oh, I’ll remember everything, don’t worry Mr. Hwang.”

Hyunjin licked his lips, arousing his senses that you spoke to him formally.

“God, I wish I could give you something better to remember tonight” he whispered, his eyes glued on you then averted, you had heard him. “Call me Hyunjin.”

Next was your photoshoot of which you hadn’t felt nervous about until he was attractively setting up his camera, you hadn’t even prepared yourself… the whole damn time you were thinking about his other kind of pictures, the erotic ones, how he tied with his nimble, long fingers and what was really going on for women to have that fucked expression on their face. You only knew that Hyunjin himself talked about that very thing three years ago, that he traveled to Japan to relax, to find inspiration in the little things, and that suddenly one day he discovered the art of shibari, the Japanese rope play and that he learned it from scratch; months after that trip to Japan the world got the first photographs.

It couldn’t be possible… that it was you who was lusting after Hyunjin, and if that was his plan or how he used to do it, it was working, you didn’t care. His clothes were tight on his manly, slender figure… and his thighs thick, but you couldn’t help but notice the large bulge that formed precisely there, the bulge of his notorious cock, which was right there, impossible to miss and without needing to be hard, you cursed mentally, thinking it must be big.

You started to get hot, sweating slightly from your lower back, the dirty thoughts were happening at an incredible speed in your head.

He approached you, ready for the pictures and noticed the faint red color on your cheeks; he smiled smugly, as he had done nothing but exist and you were already all flushed.

You confessed to him that it was weird being the model because you used to be the artist, but he took it upon himself to help you.

You tried on different outfits that suddenly didn’t feel like you. And after a while, you thought you were done when he suddenly ordered you in a harsher tone of voice:

“Wear this Versace, now. I’ll take pictures of you.”

You were surprised because he had all along been polite and didn’t order as such… but you liked how his voice suddenly got thicker as he ordered you something.

The shoot was officially over, and after that and with timid steps, you were ready to get back into your clothes again, Hyunjin was tidying up his photography equipment a bit when he stopped you.

“Where are you going? Stay dressed like that” he ordered you again and then realized his tone, “You can keep the dress… it’s made to fit you. Okay, any questions now that we’re done?”

Too many, but you had no idea how to phrase them.

“It’s night now, would you like to go out to dinner somewhere taking advantage of that pretty dress you have on, sweetie?”

He was driving you crazy, ordering you around but then talking cute to you while looking this handsome and asking you out. You didn’t turn him down.

On the way to the restaurant in Hyunjin’s car there was a tense atmosphere somehow, but he softened it with small talk, he really liked to talk, he was tender.

You arrived at a fancy place, you weren’t ready for all that but you let yourself go, just walking beside him felt good already.

A delicious dinner, a couple of drinks, and you and Hyunjin were getting to know each other more and more and becoming more comfortable with each other. Even comfortable enough to ask him:

“So… how do you do it?”

“Do what?” he replied with a smile.

You looked at him with your eyes narrowed.

“Your… photographs…”

“Well, with a camera” he joked, “What photographs?” Hyunjin noticed your slight uncertainty to answer in seconds and understood. “Ahh, those photographs. You’re dying to know, aren't you?” he said smugly.

“Of course not…” you jokingly replied.

It was all giggles, until he got serious, took from his glass with champagne and, with the glass near his lips said:

“Do you want to find out for yourself? I bet you want to try.”

A wicked smile formed on Hyunjin’s face each time you got closer to your destination. He had fantasized about it but he didn’t want to seem like a pervert or rush things with you… but you agreed, you did it and now you couldn’t believe it.

You were more and more surprised because it had been 20 minutes since you had left the city and just driving out of town. Twenty more minutes and Hyunjin finally stopped the car in the middle of nowhere, in front of a traditional Korean house.

A part of you trembled that you felt it in the foreground, that it was you who now let out tears of pleasure as you had fantasized as a handsome, older man like Hyunjin. But another part of you hoped it was only information told.

Hyunjin opened the car door for you and you looked at the place… truly a house in the middle of nowhere among the trees. You felt a chill and the cold of the night on your skin, thinking then that’s where it all happens, where other women have been before you.

“This hanok belonged to my grandfather and he passed it down to me. I’ve kept it ever since. I learned a lot from him, I owe my love of the art to him.”

Hyunjin spoke sincerely. You admired the nice garden.

“It’s nice and peaceful.”

You were trembling with nerves.

Finally, you entered the main room. Everything was still so traditional, with wood everywhere, but you noticed the little modern details Hyunjin added. Every one of his places was just like another art exhibition, decorated with paintings.

“I use it to relax, I get distracted here for a really good time and it's ideal for inviting my friends over… and well, this is where I usually practice bondage.”

You nodded, avoiding looking him in the eye. You wanted to leave. Since you knew the place you could leave; you were biting your lip in constant regret that you were actually going to be tied up. But you wanted to leave because you were embarrassed, not because you didn’t want it—the unique sex experience.

“Come here. You wanted to see it for yourself.”

A couple more rooms with sliding doors. You arrived, but Hyunjin paused with his hand on the door.

“So that you know absolutely everything��” he spoke, looking you in the eyes again.

You nodded, you were anxious and slightly excited but you were beginning to accept your fate —which you weren’t complaining much about—. Hyunjin continued:

“Usually this is where I take the pictures, I like to play with the scenery and re-decorate it, that’s why you see different scenery” he pointed in front of a spot in the room with more photography equipment. “Before entering the model is given a consent form that they decide whether to sign or not, it talks about agreeing to pose nude, to have risqué photos taken even on her genitals, and to abide by my orders as well as choosing a safe word in any case she feels uncomfortable or doesn’t have as much tolerance for pain. I like to play with them, dress them, tie them up, and let the art perform itself.”

Your breath shortened. It was so twisted but coming from his lips, voice, and serious tone… why it was so hot and mesmerizing.

It was a small disappointment that before you there were multiple women and you could almost imagine their naive and excited faces before walking through that door. The contract thing? Slick and dirty.

“Can I see it?” you said suddenly.

He raised an eyebrow in confusion looking so attractive, there was something about his bearing that looked commanding all of a sudden, as if his eyes became sharper and his body more desirable. You were impatient, at least you wanted to kiss him, you didn’t understand why so much desperation.

“The contract” you sentenced.

Hyunjin chuckled and walked over to a desk, pulling out two sheets of paper from some folders and handed them to you.

You bit your lip as you held them… thinking that maybe you were getting excited in vain, that after all, he wasn’t inviting you to be one of his models and that he hadn't even given you the contract nor did he look like he intended to give it to you, just because you asked.

The contract was specific and explicit and talked about you agreeing to be Hyunjin’s submissive for as long as he chooses by being inside that property. In the end, it said something that made too much sense, that after the shoot and when all is concluded, the model should only approach and address him professionally and under no circumstances divulge what she experienced and did. The model has the right to attend the event where her photographs will be exhibited and is obliged to use an artistic name or pseudonym. And it ended with an impressive amount of money with which she would be paid.

You sighed softly as you finished reading. It sounded private and serious from what you said:

“I won’t write about this.”

“Wise decision. But because I like you so much I can give you the exclusive and you decide already whether to write or not, sweetheart.”

You didn’t even have time to think when Hyunjin took the papers from your hand and slid the door open, revealing a long rectangular room decorated in classic wood and well-lit, with a sweet and mesmerizing scent, everything was spotless… but in the room, there was evidently sex practice furniture.

“Obviously everything is clean, it’s rigorously cleaned every time the mess is finished, and you’re lucky that the chairs and stuff are new.”

Lucky. You were at a loss for words. It was real. It was what he liked to do. You didn’t judge him, it was so normal, just another way he lived his sex life. But it was unknown to you, at least living it or actually seeing it and the unknown gives you that certain uneasy feeling.

Hyunjin took a step forward staring at you still holding the papers in his hand.

“Do you want to give it a try? Do you want to sign the contract?” he brought his face close to yours with a smug smile. “It can be for artistic purposes, just so you understand the art you’re so curious about” he crooned, playfully.

You shuddered and maintaining eye contact you nodded shyly. You knew exactly what you were agreeing to, there was no need to play dumb, you wanted it, you wanted it ever since you saw him when you entered his loft.

“You can sign later. I’ll get you dressed” Hyunjin spoke, in a more cheerful and excited tone.

He was just as, if not slightly more impatient than you. He hadn’t felt this aroused in a while, most of the time he did get aroused but it was more like pleasure play, he found satisfaction and didn’t get too involved, he was more dominant and knew how to control it… he wasn’t sure if he could pull that off with you just now.

You went back to giving a visual tour of the place as Hyunjin walked to another door that appeared to be a closet. You sighed as soon as you saw that it was a closet, with lingerie, sex toys and his ropes.

Hyunjin approached you, holding a silky white babydoll and thigh high sheer stockings also white. He held your face for the first time, making your heart almost stop as you saw him so close and felt his warm hands and cold rings on your cheeks.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m going to dress you in white because…. you have that energy in you so pure and wise, you’re as beautiful as a woman waiting dressed in white at the altar, anyone who marries you will be a lucky fucking son of a bitch. So just for tonight be everything to me, my object of pleasure, my lover, my wife.”

Hyunjin caressed your cheek and you felt your knees go weak at hearing him and seeing the gleam in his dark eyes, you didn’t even have that silly thought that he might have told someone else, you didn’t care, at least you were the one hearing it and living it right at this moment, with him.

“Undress, love, now” he ordered you softly, sliding the zipper of your dress and he took two steps back and moved a little away from you.

His piercing gaze watched you standing there and a subtle wicked smile twitched the corners of his lips. You did as he ordered and as soon as your dress fell to the floor the sensitive spot on your pussy throbbed in excitement, there was something in the atmosphere and in the room beyond your arousal and his incredible sexual energy, something about the place made you feel haunted, as if the silence of the night had a supernatural erotic power on you, you were as uneasy as you had ever been.

Hyunjin licked his lips, watching you take off your last little garments, your underwear. You were so wet, that you felt your wetness slide into your folds as you took off your panties. This time, his cock was unbelievably hard at the sight of your naked body. Hyunjin’s world stopped for a second as his cock throbbed in complete pleasure, and he paused to watch you carefully without missing any detail about you, from your shy and slightly nervous expression to the shape of your neck and how it connected to the delicacy of your shoulders and collarbones, showing your chest and breasts… the shape of them, your nipples, your delicate limbs, your abdomen and the sweet juicy skin of your pubis… every detail, down to the moles on your body. He was satisfied.

“You are beautiful,” he told you, moving closer to you.

Up close he became more absorbed and managed to perceive the scent of your perfume, delighting himself in it. He bit his lower lip and couldn’t resist how soft your exposed breasts looked, so he brought both his hands to your tits, making you shudder slightly, massaging them gently, with the babydoll on his broad shoulder. You too bit your lip in pleasure to stop a sigh. You saw his big hands grab your breasts, move them and play with your nipple and in the process you noticed the huge erection in his pants and then you saw his face, thinking he was even bigger with a hard cock, you wanted Hyunjin now, you needed him, you needed to feel him inside you, in your hands, in your mouth… He was so close to you… you could appreciate his so manly features perfectly marked, like his nose and sharp jaw and his lips, you wanted to kiss him and have him take you at once, you felt he could fuck you right there, you were already so ready for his cock to slide into you without even truly touching him.

He repeated your act, he saw your breasts and enjoyed the feel of your tits adjusting to his hands and then he watched your sweet face holding back and he smiled.

“You like that, bunny, huh? Answer everything I tell you.”

“Yes” you sighed.

His giggle again appeared and what started out sweet became more and more intense, squeezing your breasts with intensity and treating them rougher, ending with a rough play towards your nipples that made you sigh.

“Arms up, my baby doll, I’m going to dress you.”

He took his hands off your breasts leaving you with a void as it felt too good, he was stimulating you and turning you on more. Hyunjin put the silky robe on you and took the opportunity to caress and squeeze your ass, taking you to heaven. He got down on his knees and put on your stockings, caressing and squeezing your thighs, until he couldn’t resist, he lifted the robe covering your pussy and his face was in front of your mons pubis, Hyunjin finely ran his fingers on your slick once, and then did it deeply again, earning an unexpected shudder and soft moan from you.

“Shit, you’re so fucking wet, baby.”

He smirked and went to the closet again, finally pulling out the ropes. You didn’t move an inch.

Hyunjin began untying and preparing them, standing in front of you at a distance and looking so fucking sexy as his hands and arms wrapped around the rope.

“Do you know why I chose this place? A house in the middle of nowhere?” he commented, a flirtatious tone in his voice preparing the long rope.

He looked at you and you shook your head, he smiled running his tongue along his cavity, satisfying him as you were suddenly at a loss for words as you had gone from being bubbly and chatty with him to showing yourself just the way he liked it: submissive. A submissive with the big eyes of a frightened bunny, of a prey about to be devoured, of a helpless woman about to be fucked hard.

“Because I took so much admiration for this practice in Japan and my first bondage I did when I was young in a traditional Japanese house, the place inspired me too much and I remembered I had this house a bit abandoned… but the best part of it all is that you are free to make all the noise. You can cry all you want, no soul but me is going to hear you scream.”

Your skin stood on end, the last sentence had been dangerous in every way, hot, commanding and when you least knew it, he was already close to you rolling up his sleeves and ready to start the real attraction.

“Turn around and put your arms behind your back.” he ordered, in a rougher way and intimidating you with his gaze.

You obeyed him and stood staring up at the traditional walls of the room and felt the sensation of the soft rope passing through your arms and Hyunjin placing it in front of your body, encircling your breasts and abdomen, and going up your shoulders. You were so excited that if you opened your mouth you feared a moan would come out of it.

“So… what’s going to be your safe word?” he questioned in a rough, seductive voice and you felt your first squeeze in your arms through the ropes. “Or will you make a bad girl and not need it? That never happens…”

You hadn’t thought about it… was it so painful as to require a word? You thought you were holding on. You will.

“There will be no safe word” you mentioned in a shaky voice.

The next squeeze and the first strong tie in your arms.

“You are a little sick. I adore it. You want to be all spunky girl” he kept on tying, each time squeezing tighter and drawing your arms tighter together, “Let’s see how that works out for you, honey.”

And suddenly, it wasn’t the intensity of the bondage that surprised you, but the way he began to tease you, feeling his warm breath behind you, his heavy breathing, and his erection rubbing against your body.

“Tell me, my dear, have you tried submission and bondage before…?”

“No.”

He tied hard. Squeezing around your breasts, marking them on the babydoll.

“It will be an honor to be the first. But I won’t be gentle, I never am. Do you like rough sex?”

“I-I don’t know.”

You weren’t even beginning to think straight, your pussy was throbbing painfully down there, you were afraid you were going to start dripping from how turned on you were and he was just tying you up and rubbing his erection against you. All you could think about was how good his long fingers must look holding the rope and skillfully tying you up, you wished you had eyes on your back right about now.

“You don’t know?” he tied tight close to your hands, finishing. “You’ve never been fucked hard? Or don’t tell me you’re a virgin?”

You swallowed nervously, gulping saliva that burned in your throat from how enormously aroused you were, your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

“I’m not…”

“Oh yeah? Who was the lucky guy who entered paradise between your legs for the first time?”

Hyunjin stepped back, appreciating the beauty of the bonds in your arms, leaving you immobilized and staggering. He walked to the front of you with a predatory gaze, admiring his creation now on the front of your body, your breasts well marked on the fabric and your abdomen bound in a figure.

“Remember to answer everything, I thought you would be a good girl.”

You looked into his eyes, your big, merciful eyes, full of pure sexual ecstasy.

“My first boyfriend, when I was 19.”

“How is he now?” Hunjin ran his hands through your hair, pushing it a little away from your face, “Knowing he won something wonderful in life, your purity.”

You felt slightly humiliated, you were facing him, in a slightly curved position because of the tight bonds that bothered your arms, which bothered your circulation a little.

“He’s fine, I think. He studied law.”

“Too bad for him, he lost you, but now you’re mine.”

Hyunjin walked out of the room to return with his camera in hands.

“There go the first pictures, hun..”

Flash behind your back, this time Hyunjin didn’t bother to change the setting of the place, he had never shown the place as such, he always decorated it in a way that suited the concept of his exhibition, but you had been so spontaneous, you weren’t even planned for weeks like all his models, the concept was the simple nature of desire, erotic and experimentation.

Then he took pictures of your body in front.

“Fuck they look so good, so homely and domestic. I love it” he mentioned looking at the pictures.

He put the camera away leaving it on the floor carpet and moved your body from your shoulders forcing you to take a few steps, all the way to the center under a bar with chuncky metal hooks hanging from its ceiling.

“You seemed to get so excited at the idea of being tied up. But let’s steady your position, sweetheart.”

Hyunjin hooked you from the rope that ran behind your shoulders and left you hanging, just touching your toes to the floor. You felt strange and excited, unable to move and hanging there like nothing.

He smiled again, satisfied and wicked and his erection throbbed in pleasure at the sight of your state, helpless and bound.

“You still want to know how I take my pictures” he whispered hotly in your ear.

He gently pulled away until you felt his hair brush against your cheek, being in that position and tied up was making you uncomfortable but there was something so hot about it.

“Yes, Hyunjin.”

At this point you couldn’t say no to him and you weren’t thinking clearly, other than the feeling of your limbs and body tied, dangling and your throbbing cunt.

“I know absolutely everything they say about me, but although it may surprise you I never fuck my models, I don’t even kiss them, but I do like to play with them, with their pleasure and temperament, I enjoy taking them to the extreme and having them explore the very capabilities of their body…”

Hyunjin spoke close to your face, like a villain telling his plan to the poor helpless and immobile victim.

“Oh, honey, but I asked you if you like rough sex because I plan to fuck you” he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

He turned away to go back to his kinky closet.

“Wooden paddle or leather?” he hummed for himself, “What will I beat your cute ass with?”

You began to move your hands in desperation looking for a release. It was starting to bother you but you didn’t want to complain, you wanted to truly feel that rare and erotic experience.

Hyunjin approached you, with a vibrator and his leather spanking paddle.

“You’re a good sweet girl, let me get you ready.”

He ran his hand in your folds and you moaned instantly, shuddering, he played with your clit and he bit his lip, getting lost in the soft, sticky, warm feeling of your pussy lips wrapping his fingers. It was feeling so good, you were so needy. Your nipples hardened and your body sought to move in pleasure.

“Go on, sweetheart, make all the noise you want, don’t be afraid to enjoy absolutely everything.”

You let out a choked moan, you pressed your hands against each other unable to move your limbs, it was feeling like heaven itself to be touched by him as you looked into his eyes, his sultry gaze and wicked smile.

“God, you are so wet, are you liking this, my bunny?”

You nodded, desperate.

“Yes!” you moaned in pleasure and surprise as you spoke just as he thrust two fingers into you.

His fingers were perfect in you, so long reaching a soft spot inside you as he stirred them deep in you, almost as if exploring then slowly penetrating you. Hyunjin felt his erection to the fullest, if it wasn’t for his very good control and management of his body, he would be whimpering with excitement, everything about you made him so fucking horny.

But then he left you an emptiness, as he removed his fingers from you. You opened your mouth, breathing was becoming a difficult task, Hyunjin took advantage of your expression and stuck his fingers that were in your pussy to mouth.

“Taste yourself. I bet you taste so good my little doll” he removed his hand from your mouth to hold the sex toy, “Alright, this goes inside you.”

You whimpered in pleasure moving your legs in desperation as you felt the vibrator slide deep inside you, you watched as Hyunjin pushed it into you settling it into a delicious and strategic spot. You again noticed his huge erection and had a great need to touch it… but you were right in that painful situation with your limbs without proper circulation. He placed the single sofa of the room right in front of you and sat comfortably as if having a girl tied up and hanging was the most normal thing on a Monday night for him. Hyunjin placed his calf on top of his thigh, watching you. He stirred in place as sitting made the fabric of his pants squeeze his erection tighter and he grunted softly.

In his right hand he held the small vibrator control and didn’t hesitate to use it, with a single click and a wicked grin on his part, the toy began to do its thing inside you making you moan breathlessly.

You bit your lip hard and swirled your pelvis in pleasure, cursing softly as your walls vibrated, you felt it tingle in you, your labia majora were already a mess. Hyunjin pressed his lips together, examining how you writhed in pleasure with the limited body parts you could move, your head, your neck and your lower limbs.

“Now… tell me that story you didn’t finish, how your love of art was born.”

“What?” you whimpered.

You didn’t think he was serious, he was overstimulating you.

“Do it. Now. I want to know,” he ordered roughly. “Tell me, now.”

You whimpered feeling every great change of vibration and movement in you. You didn’t think he meant it and could hold a conversation having you as a rag doll dangling in front of him.

“I tol-d you that my fa-father had a replica of a painting… by Norman Rockwell in his room… and…” it was hard to speak, between whines and sighs, combined with the guilty pleasure of the pain of not being able to move. “It was fun to look at it… I liked it.”

“Just that? I want more details. I feel you know everything about me; but what do I know about y/n?”

Hyunjin switched the stimulation mode to simulated thrusting motions. Your poor body writhed and contracted, you felt excitedly trapped with nothing you could do about it. You were agitated, excited, with your slightly watery eyes and your pussy getting wetter and wetter.

“Fuck” you whimpered and he smiled, “The painting was done by a friend of his…”

“What was his name?” Hyunjin loved playing with you, for an incredibly smart woman, the sexual pleasure was making you silly and he was barely into foreplay.

“Jack… Bahng… and my father noticed the admiration I suddenly had for paintings and took me to my first gallery when I was twelve in New York…”

Hyunjin thought the last name sounded familiar, but he played with you, interrupting you and increasing the intensity of the thrusts that tickled your cervix almost bringing you to orgasm. You squeezed your legs together, it was painful and pleasurable, you felt you couldn’t cum because the position was uncomfortable so you were building the intensity of your climax.

“Whose gallery was it?”

“John Currin, November 2015… mmm, fuck, Hyun-”

“Focus, honey, you’re telling me something? John Currin, doesn’t he also do nudes? I think you like a certain kind of art, you little slut.”

“Mmm…” you didn’t even know what you were talking about, you started to stammer breathlessly, “But… they’re exaggerated or funny paintings sometimes. I attended with my father, his friend and his son, his son is also an artist and he taught me how to paint and from there, from there it was…”

“Aw, you’re daddy’s little girl? Who is your daddy’s friend’s son? Was he the one you said between drinks was your first crush?”

So many questions that were suddenly so hard to answer; this time you didn’t, you were about to burst into your first orgasm, you could feel it, you bit your lip and rolled your eyes softly.

“Don’t you dare cum, I haven’t authorized you yet. Hold it” he spoke annoyed, “You have to answer what I ask you, don’t make me beat you and punish you with the fucking wooden paddle.”

“What?” you stammered, desperate, watching his expression, his smooth thick black eyebrows furrowed in anger.

“Who was the guy who taught you to paint?”

Shit. You wanted to cum already, you were at your peak that you accidentally cum whimpering his name, which Hyunjin disliked completely.

“Chris-Christopher Bahng, ahh.”

This time he was genuinely pissed off.

He turned off the vibrator while you thought you fell into a small release but you were still trapped with pain in your body.

Hyunjin walked towards you and grabbed you roughly by the face.

“I ordered you not to cum.”

That wasn’t what he was truly angry about, it was that you whimpered another man’s name while cumming and it was someone he knew well.

“Christopher Bahng?” he claimed to you in annoyance, releasing you from the hooks and holding you up to lay you down moderately roughly on the floor. “Isn’t he a professor at your university?”

You nodded, exhausted. Christopher had been your first innocent love but it was obvious he was someone older and you were a child, after fifteen you never saw him again and came back reconnecting with him as you remember him, looking the same and teaching art. In fact, he was one of the most important reasons why you attended those important art events, he would get you places, but you used to say it was college support, because in part, it was true. He was just so good to you.

“Use your words.”

You had fallen sideways, turning your back to him and you were giving up feeling your arms, you wanted to be untied already.

“Yes, he is, he’s my teacher now.”

“Unbelievable, you go from Rockwell to Nabokov. You like older men, don’t you?” he spat, taking his camera to photograph you from that angle, with your bare ass, your wet thighs, your numb white arms. “That’s why you’re here, seducing me. Do you know how old I am?”

His choice of words, his tone, he was playing with you. Hyunjin photographed you on the floor, one last time before inflicting physical pain, before leaving your ass red-purple and sore. It was so dirty and hot that you thought for a second that they could be interpreted as the pictures of a helpless victim.

“Yes, I know.”

“I’m older than you, I should have known better bringing in someone so young, sleeping with her seniors for fun. And how old is Chris now?”

“I don’t know… 33, 34.”

“And did you enjoy fucking your teacher, you fucking slut?” he whispered, putting his body over yours without crushing you, to then roughly pull the toy out of you causing you to moan, “Did he enjoy being reunited with his little girl?”

You turned your neck to look at Hyunjin, he was getting the wrong idea, he was breathing heavily against your skin.

“It’s not like that, nothing happened.”

“You know how much it infuriates me that you whimpered his name while you were cumming like a fucking whore, writhing for him, huh? You were thinking about him? When you’re supposed to be mine tonight.”

You were about to answer, but Hyunjin turned your body leaving you face down and began to spank your ass violently with his strong, heavy hand, making you scream and whimper.

“I’ll show you that you’re mine, fuck, I don’t just want you to be mine tonight, I want you to be mine forever” he babbled, giving you spank after spank.

Your body contracted at each stroke, your arms sought to move and you moved your legs but Hyujin held them tightly to stop you from resisting. Your cry and his hand hitting your skin were present in the room, you could even feel the firmness of his rings digging into your skin.

“Hy-Hyunjin!” you couldn’t with the pain that was uncontrollably arousing you, you felt sick, your buttocks were burning but your clit was throbbing again.

“You fucking like this, don’t you, little slut? You like being treated like what you are, huh?”

He stopped spanking you to play roughly with your pussy, penetrating your entrance and stroking your labia hard. You whined in pleasure, the pleasure seemed painfully eternal with Hyunjin. And minutes later, you cum on his fingers unable to resist. He couldn’t resist how swollen and juicy your cunt looked either, so in one swift movement, he settled his body to lick and revel in your juices. You were desperate, you wanted to move, you wanted to touch him, you wanted to see his handsome face as he ate your pussy but you were limited from so many things; still Hyunjin continued, running his hot thick tongue in your cunt.

“Mmmm, fuck baby, you’re—so fucking delicious, I can’t” he moaned, sucking on your labia and cumming slowly and painfully in his pants, unable to hold it in any longer.

He continued to make a series of movements in a rhythm that blurred your vision and brought you to orgasm after orgasm. You were exhausted, sore and hoarse. You had been used.

Hyunjin was hard again, ready to do one last thing before he untied you completely. You felt his mouth pull away from you and heard the sound of a belt buckle and zipper being pulled down. You knew it, you were just slightly recovering when you felt his hot wet tip rub against your puffy pussy lips. He settled your body so that you were supported on your knees; he kept teasing you with his hard member in you, which made him moan until he finally pushed his entire length into you.

New tears began to flow from you. Hyunjin was huge. He was tearing you apart, but his warm cock inside you filling absolutely everything made you feel so whole.

He held on to the ropes, as if he was riding, he began to fuck you and ram you hard, bumping skin against skin.

“Hyunji-n, Hyunjin” you whined his name.

The gasps from both of you filled the room; his cock pounded every part of your insides. His movements were fast, beastly and violent but they left you so satisfied that you came twice in the process and he still continued in you until in sensual moans, he finally filled you with his cum.

Hyunjin pulled out of you to appreciate your used entrance and, out of breath, began to quickly untie you. It was unbelievable, you had not used any safety words or begged for him to stop.

He knew he was rough and that had to untie you soon, otherwise, the ropes would leave more serious marks, of which serious marks, only your ass suffered, red and swollen with signs of bruising. And you had resisted every damn spanking of which he lost count and only hit you for his slight sadistic pleasure of feeling your soft skin being abused.

Finally, your arms could breathe, but you felt a tingling in them. You were just adjusting again when Hyunjin turned your body to see your flushed face covered in tears and light sweat on your forehead.

You groaned in pain as your bottom brushed the carpet. Hyunjin unfastened your rope and robe, leaving you naked and wearing only your stockings.

He began gently caressing your breasts and waist.

“A photograph is not enough to capture you, my dear. I need to immortalize you with my oil painting. I need to paint you. I think I’m in love.”

You watched his face, with your breathing and heartbeat agitated and altered and you also noticed his visible cock, veiny, wet, shiny, erect and big.

You blinked, feeling your eyelashes still wet. Wanting to believe he was serious. Wishing it. That he could be in love with you.

He leaned toward you, brushing his nose against yours and for the thousandth time in the night, he broke every one of his rules with a model:

“Kiss me.”

You joined your lips, his kiss soothed every physical ache in you and the sensation was just as you imagined, dreamy, velvet lips deft in their movement.

The kisses escalated to be more and more sizzling, his hands kept massaging your breasts and his lips started to slide down your neck, you were obsessed with Hyunjin’s lips, your weak arms found a way to caress his hair.

He slowly separated from you. Looking at you with his typical mischievous and tenderly wicked smile.

It was a night to remember, a night you body will remember, but you got the feeling that is was just the beginning.

𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @lolareadsimagines @lailac13 @ayyonoona @do-you-remember-summer-127 @wildtokay @korthbum @oddracha @hyune-sssne @velvetmoonlght @shadowhunterathene @compersian @binniesbabe @strayywayy @isabel-018 @paborachaslvt @tirena1

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SKZ Crack!Horror Master List

List below the moodboard

Part One Info Part Two Info

Bang Chan

You Live Like This?

Lee Know

That Your Man?

Seo Changbin

Blink Twice If You Need Help

Hwang Hyunjin

Don't Look at Me Like That

Han Jisung

You Called?

Lee Felix

All Ye Who Enter Here part 2

Kim Seungmin

Damn Puppy Dog Eyes

Yang Jeongin

Do You Need A Straw?

Part One Info Part Two Info

exploratory tag list : @velvetmoonlght