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forlix · 1 year ago

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‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝・h.j.

— stars flare brightest in the absence of light, and you see his clearer than day.

words・6.4k

pairing・han jisung x female reader

genres・college!au, friends with benefits to lovers, snowed in trope, smut, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS THAT INTERACT WILL BE BLOCKED, angst, ANGST, you have been warned, hurt/comfort, i can't write normal fluff to save my life, happy ending!!!, semi-slow burn

warnings・depictions of insomnia, recurring nightmares, graphic violence, character death (in the nightmare), fears of abandonment and falling in love, alcohol consumption, humans helping each other heal. smut warnings under the cut

playlist・stay - acoustic by jonah baker・all of me by big gigantic・babydoll (speed) by ari abdul・oasis by exo・volcano by han

a/n・hi, here's my second installment of winter falls. writing this was immensely challenging and twice as meaningful, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. thank you to my may for being so fucking instrumental in piecing together this rollercoaster—this one is for you, i love you. thanks to my sahar for everything, always and forever. and thanks to all of you for being here. happy new year ♡

smut warnings・spitplay, unprotected piv, please practice safe sex!!!, car sex, dirty talk, jisung's dick game is kinda crazy, squirting, lots of aftercare

Every time Jisung closes his eyes, he sees somebody’s back.

It’s leaving. Traipsing somewhere he can’t follow. He tries to chase it—he always does, he never learns—but the premise doesn’t so much as surface before the ghosts circling around his ankles go for his throat instead. They snare him by the shoulders, force him to his knees, slam his forehead into the permafrost hard enough to break bone. They make sure the next time he tries to move will be the last.

So he remains, keeled over in the cold, until tearwater clings to his lower lashes in small icicles. Until bloodstained snow coats his lips like the manifestation of a curse. Until the back has disappeared.

Who does it belong to? He’s left to wonder. Where is it going?

Why can’t I follow?

Then he wakes up.

No longer does he lay awake for hours afterwards, scouring the dream’s every frame for his answers.

Now, he tosses and turns in clammy sheets until his exhaustion wins.

Now, he welcomes sleep like a miracle granted by some pitying god.

You see him.

Through a living room packed with red-faced partygoers and dissected by oscillating strobe lights, albeit, but you see him anyways.

Jisung can barely make out the rest of your face—he blames the lighting, or the soju, or both—but your eyes alone turn him to glass. Not a fancy vase through which the world distorts, but a simple pane that puts him and his ghosts on full display.

He hopes you like horror movies.

Felix knows you, because of course he does, and Jisung has never been happier to call the extroverted Australian his friend than when you come over to say hi. You stumble out of the crowd all smudged makeup and sweaty skin, your figure hugged by a short black dress with two diamond-shaped openings just above your hips, your glossy lips curved in a drunken smile. Jisung immediately wants it against his mouth.

Instead, it disappears behind his friend as you pull him into a quick hug. A few wisps of your hair dust over Jisung’s arm, momentarily replacing the smells of grease and vodka with cherry blossoms and vanilla.

“Lix, hey!”

“Darling, it’s good to see you! Feels like it’s been ages.”

“I know, right? How are you? How is everything?”

“Good, thank you. Just happy the semester’s over.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Then you go to lift your drink and discover thin air in its place. “Or I won’t. Whoops.”

This prompts Jisung’s first contribution to the conversation—and his first effortless laugh in a long while.

“Eventful night, huh?”

He meets your gaze from all of two feet away this time, and his knees buckle under him. That gaze, fuck. So clear and true, like a prism of glass refracting light into a rainbow. He would let you refract him a thousand times over if he had any light to give.

“Maybe,” you giggle. “Seems I’m a little too happy the semester’s over.”

“Wanna not get a drink to celebrate?”

Your expression flickers. Not in a bad way, more like you hadn’t expected him to ask so soon—or for yourself to have your answer so quickly.

A strobe light catches right under your eye and refracts the color in your blushing face. A rainbow.

“I’d like that.”

He tilts his head towards the kitchen. You give Felix’s elbow a light squeeze before moving past him; he gives Felix a glimpse of his growing smile before falling into step behind you. The blonde shakes his head, throws back the rest of his beer, then swivels at the sound of someone calling his name from across the foyer.

Felix will get drunk enough to forget the sight of you leading Jisung up the stairs, two bottles of pink lemonade tucked under your arm. Nothing stronger, as promised.

Jisung asks his question an entire minute after he intends to. “Where are we going, by the way?”

“Somewhere I can see your pretty face without having to squint,” you reply, and his stomach tumbles like a schoolboy with a valentine.

You don’t stop at the second floor. Instead, you nudge open a door Jisung swears just materialized to his left and emerge into the night air.

It’s warm for December, but he’s still met with chilly winds licking down the sides of his neck. That’s not the only reason he shudders, though. Below his feet, he finds a metal platform akin to that of a fire escape. Above his head, a staircase that looks one forceful step away from dropping off the side of the building.

You turn towards it.

In a hurry, he sputters, “I’m, uh—I’m not sure about this.”

A beat passes. Your hold on his wrist loosens, not to let go, just to trace wordless reassurance down the back of his hand. Your fingers feel perfect sliding into the spaces between his, like drops of honey in the craters of soufflé pancakes.

“It’s safer than it looks, I promise.”

Jisung heaves a sigh. It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

You’re right, though. The iron rungs are surprisingly rigid beneath his feet, and the two of you make it to the roof with no trouble. He does stumble when you pull him up onto the gravel, but it’s intentional, a purposeful blunder to have you closer. To snag another glimpse of that blush, another trace of that floral vanilla.

“Sorry,” he whispers almost directly upon your lips. And that earns him all three.

The next hour evades him for the most part, and Jisung is pissed about it. He’s with the woman of his dreams under a sky so clear it’s almost lustrous and he’s too shitfaced to recollect when he gave you his hoodie to wear; what you said that made his lungs capsize with how hard he laughed; how you ended up so close to each other, your legs strewn over his lap, his hands tracing over your thighs.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things. He remembers how frighteningly easy you are to talk to; he remembers your habit of smacking his stomach when you get flustered; he remembers you getting flustered a lot. He remembers the timbres of your different laughs and how your stunning features crinkle with each. He remembers feeling like a pane of glass in front of you, just like he had downstairs, and he remembers liking it, somehow. Liking the way you see through him, the way you allow him to just exist as he is. Liking the way you acknowledge his ghosts with such nonchalance, inviting them over for tea and biscuits.

He wants to remember everything about you.

It’s not often he wants to remember anything.

Eventually, your conversation comes to a natural close. In its absence, Jisung notices that the alcoholic sludge in his brain has largely diffused; with it, the rumbling bass of the party below. The full moon hangs at its highest point, blanketing the two of you with anticipatory silence, nudging you towards the only topic you’ve yet to breach.

He meets your gaze again, from all of two inches away this time, and his insides twist.

“You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”

You blink at him, not following. Then he leans his forehead against yours, lets his eyes flicker to your mouth with such unbridled want that you’re instantly dizzy—and no longer confused.

Regret pools in your eyes moments before they close. “Yes, I think so.”

Your lips are so, so close that he can feel the air shift between you when they move, can feel the soft warmth emanating from them. Jisung pulls away before he does anything stupid.

You do the stupid thing for him.

You push his shoulders to the plaster behind him, push yourself onto his lap with a swing of your body and a slotting of your legs on either side of him.

The plush of your thighs hugging his hips, the curves of your breasts pressed against his chest, Jisung tries to stare up at you, perplexed, aroused. But you’re so close that he can’t, so he settles with whispering upon the underside of your chin, “what are you—”

“Gimme your lemonade.”

The authoritative words come out in a slurred haze, and he all but hastens to oblige.

You pluck the plastic bottle from his wavering grasp. His empty hand hovers as if uncertain where to go. But matters as trivial as hand placement drop off his mind’s precipice as he watches you unscrew the cap, the slope of your neck illuminated by spindly moonlight, and without thinking he pushes his hands beneath the hem of your—his—hoodie.

The skin of your waist is warm and smooth where his fingertips are cold and calloused, the juxtaposition unimportant in your reciprocal desires to touch and be touched.

“Open,” you murmur.

His jaw goes slack, firstly from pure disbelief. Then, obedience. The dark locks that obstruct his vision of you fall away as his head meets the brick half-wall behind him, as if the midnight breeze itself mandated their removal.

You pour some of the pink liquid past Jisung’s parted lips. Stray rivulets slip down his cheek and vanish beneath his neckline. You break eye contact to follow their path with dilated pupils and fluttering lashes. With unadulterated desire.

He swallows, gently, and feels the sweet substance surround his tonsils.

He swallows, forcefully, when you wrap your lips around the bottle, the plastic still slathered in his spit.

The swig you take is long, deep. Your throat bobs and your eyes close as if you’re savoring a finely-aged nectar. Then your lips are popping off the opening with a soft thwock, leaving a thick strand of saliva to suspend, suspend, suspend until the very second it’s about to drop, which is when you collect the residue with a deft swipe of your tongue.

“A placeholder,” you breathe, and Jisung’s head careens. A shared bottle. An indirect kiss.

“You’re a monster,” he croaks.

You giggle and lean down, curling a hand around his cheek, pressing a wet kiss to his Adam’s apple.

“Tomorrow, if we’re both sober…”

One, two, three pecks up the length of his jaw.

“...and you still remember my address…”

A suckle to the lobe of his ear.

“...you can kiss me, for real.”

A trembling breath.

“And then some.”

Jisung moans, loudly.

Thankfully, he remembers a few things.

He shows up at your place shortly after sunset the next day. You swing open the door, your face already alight with your world-ending smile.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Then he’s kissing you like a man famished.

Jisung learns to love your back, that night. He loves its dips and curves, loves its rise and fall. Loves how it arches into him, how it looks drenched in his cum. It’s the back of his dreams.

The back in his dreams keeps walking.

Jisung has never liked winter.

He has never liked its winds, whispering woefully as if mourning something unnamed and unseen. He has never liked its palette, whitewashing the world as if refracting a rainbow in reverse.

He has never liked cracking open his eyes and seeing the scenery of his nightmare outside his window. Nor does he like trudging over the sleet as if weighed down by the same ghosts that break him time and time again in his dreamscape. They love winter.

And this winter, he swears, is the bitterest yet. On the nights when he’s allowed to sleep, the nightmare comes in such sharp relief that he thinks he’d rather anything else, the ghosts meaner, the blood redder, the silhouette slower. It’s an act of mercy when he’s still awake by the time bleached sunlight perforates the curtains, resting upon his salted cheeks and balled fists.

This winter, it is not just dislike that he feels towards the gray winds—it’s hatred. A maelstrom of loathing so large and dark that Jisung no longer knows where it’s headed or what it’s directed to. Or who.

When winter break comes to an end, he’s probably the only person who’s happy about it.

His friends certainly aren’t, looking like a line of angry nutcrackers with their folded arms and thunderous faces standing outside Greem Cafe.

Jisung calls out a greeting as he jogs towards them, and cue the grumbling.

“What is there to smile about? Enlighten us.” That’s Hyunjin. “I have to deal with four finals and three essays in the next five days and this guy is smiling.”

“He’s accepted his fate, I reckon.” That’s Felix. “We should do the same, boys. Let ourselves down easy, y’know?”

“No, no, he’s smiling because he remembered to bring me his chem notes.” That’s Jeongin. “You did, right? Please say you did.”

Jisung is stunned into silence. “Can I not be happy to see my friends?”

“No,” Hyunjin and Felix reply in unison.

“My bad,” he sighs.

“My notes,” Jeongin repeats.

“I have them, dude. Let’s sit down first.”

The younger boy shouts an impassioned “THANK YOU” at the sky like the clouds just saved his GPA. Jisung reaches for the door to the café, then stops at the sound of Felix’s voice.

“We’re waiting on one more person.”

He turns towards the blonde with puzzled eyes. He’d been under the impression the study session would comprise just them four.

“Who?”

Felix’s response falters on his tongue when he catches sight of something in the distance, and his face changes in a way Jisung’s seen before.

“Look behind you.” Felix shuffles past him, raising his voice to shout, “yo!”

Jisung glances away from the newcomer as quickly as he sees her. It’s not until his eyes pivot to the fire hydrant across the street that he processes her identity.

In one second flat, his mind clutters full. He thinks back to that party, when all it took was the sight of your smile for him to theorize you were the most exquisite thing ever made. He thinks back to the next evening, when he kissed you and verified his hypothesis. He thinks back to what followed and would continue to follow in the few days that remained before break: entwined tongues and emblazoned hickeys, whitened knuckles and whiny praise, snapping hips and shaking bedframes.

This winter, Jisung swears, is the bitterest yet.

But seeing you, the scarf wound multiple times around your neck doing nothing to hide your gorgeous smile, feels like catching a fragment of summer in his frozen hands.

“Thank god,” Felix groans before embracing you. Collapsing on you, more like. “I’m saved.”

You reach around to pat the boy on the back, your eyes brimming with laughter. “Lower your expectations, please. I did well on one exam.”

“You aced the midterm. That automatically makes you a rocket scientist,” Felix corrects, his voice muffled into the shoulder of your coat. A few beats of silence pass. Then, “this is comfy.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go get some caffeine in you,” you giggle. “We have a lot of ground to cover today.”

Felix straightens up sleepily. And sadly. “Superb.”

Jisung hangs back as you introduce yourself to Hyunjin and Jeongin. He doesn’t even notice his growing smile until you’re standing directly in front of him and for the first time in three weeks there’s the smell of cherry blossoms in the air and a rainbow shining on his face again.

“Hi,” he offers.

“Hey,” you reply.

Hyunjin is the one to shatter the prolonged silence that follows. “Are you guys betrothed?”

Felix and Jeongin stalk into the café snickering. You and Jisung trail behind with flaming cheeks.

It takes Jisung two and a half hours to talk to you again. At that point in the afternoon, Felix is napping on the second practice test you’ve given him; Hyunjin has downed three shots of pure espresso and is currently viewing his screen with concerning intensity; Jeongin is at another table on a quiet Zoom call with his chemistry T.A., Jisung’s notes clutched to his chest like a life vest. And you’re leaning back against your seat opposite to him, scrolling through your phone in what he presumes to be a well-deserved study break. As good a time as any.

He opens up his texts with you. His fingers fly across the keyboard.

Jisung: do you have plans after this?

Your eyes stutter to the top of your screen, linger there for a moment, and lock onto Jisung’s from across the table.

He presses his lips into a thin line to suppress his smile. You let yours spill over in full form, and with it comes a soft giggle that would be worth getting his number fucking blocked just to hear one more time.

Three gray dots appear before elongating into a prompt response.

Y/N: I was gonna ask you the same thing…

He’s the one who laughs this time. Fuck, you’re cute. You’re so cute.

Jisung: can i take you to dinner? Y/N: Yes, I’d love that :) Y/N: When should we leave? Jisung: 9? Y/N: Sounds good~ Jisung: cool Jisung: it’s a date Y/N: It’s a date! Y/N: Excited 💛

With that, you put your phone face down and return to work, though your lips remain privately upturned. Jisung wants to kiss them again.

He also wants to turn you into a mess on his cock again.

Or both.

He doesn’t get much studying done after that thought surfaces.

Jisung: me too <3

When nine o’clock rolls around, you and Jisung begin cleaning up your work stations in near-perfect simultaneity. There’s confusion written all over Hyunjin’s and Jeongin’s faces as they watch you swing your backpacks over your shoulders—but Felix’s expression is a blank slate as he sips from his macchiato. Your ingenuity isn’t the only reason he invited you today.

As you make your way out of the café, your shoulders brush once, twice, and then Jisung drops his hand into the space between the two of you without uttering a word. You scoop it up in your own without missing a beat.

He steps into the freezing night feeling warm all over.

“You know what I realized?” You say as you walk towards his SUV.

“What did you realize?”

“We’ve never had a sober conversation before. Can we change that tonight?”

Jisung has broken hearts before.

There’s no euphemistic way to describe his tendency to abuse the sensitive organs, to wring them out and throw them away like irrelevant trash. To juggle and drop them with a sheepish laugh like they’re nothing more than props in a circus act.

He doesn’t do it to save himself or his partners from getting hurt or any self-ingratiating bullshit like that. It’s for himself, all for himself. All to unload his balls and his mind for fifteen blissful seconds.

There’s blood on his hands. He never cared to wash it off.

Except you are the one asking for his heart this time around, a dash of hope in your smile as you do so, and he thinks it would be his life’s greatest honor to be discarded by you.

“Sure,” he answers.

He doesn’t even last until he’s inside the car.

Your back meets the door to the passenger’s seat, guided there by his hands on your hips. From millimeters away he watches your surprise morph into understanding, then darken into lust.

“I like when we don’t talk, though.”

It’s the most annoying thing in the world to remove so many layers in such a cramped space.

Combined, your clothing forms a tower high enough to block out the driver’s window completely. An unnecessary blockade.

The glass fogs up anyways.

“Fuck, Ji, yes, right there, oh my god.”

You have your legs spread open and the back of your neck digging into the cupholder on the door. It’s not comfortable. You’re too busy getting fucked open to care.

Jisung detaches his lips from your neck to ask, “here, baby?”

The head of his cock hits that gummy spot again, harder, sweeter. You convulse, your hand scrambling for purchase in his raven locks.

“Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop, please.”

Please. The word plays over in his fuzzy mind.

It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.

His cock slips out of you and you lament the loss of contact with a high wail.

“W-why’d—where’d you go?”

He can’t help but chuckle at how incoherent you’ve become. He cradles the back of your head with a tender hand and lowers your upper body onto the leather seat, adjusting himself to your new elevation.

“Right here, beautiful. Didn’t go anywhere—promise—”

He expels the final word through gritted teeth as he slams into you again, and the new angle is glorious. Your bodies keen in flawless harmony. Profanities tumble from his lips in a steady stream before they turn back into syllables.

“Would never go anywhere. Would never leave without making this pretty pussy cream like it deserves—holy fucking shit, baby.”

You clench around him at his words and then he’s setting a new, relentless rhythm, rocking the whole vehicle with every hearty smack of his hips against yours, your wet walls squeezing him so dreamily he thinks he sees nirvana with every thrust.

You’re enjoying it just as much, if the bubbles of spit in the corner of your mouth are any indication, and Jisung is viciously proud to be the cause. Unbelievably lucky to feel your breasts jiggling under his chest and your nails digging into the back of his neck.

“Good?” He whispers, and you nod blissfully.

“So—good, Ji, so fucking good. Your cock is perfect, fuck, I can’t even—can’t even think.”

“You’re the perfect one. Can’t believe how well your cunt takes me, shit. It’s like it was fucking made for this.”

“It was,” you breathe, and he nearly shoots his load into you at this alone. “It was, it was—oh, god, I think—think I’m gonna come—”

“Do it,” he rasps. “Come for me. Come on this cock and it’s yours.”

“R-really?”

“Really.”

“Then, I will. I’ll come on your cock—make it mine. Need it so fucking bad, I’m so fucking close, oh—please—”

He anchors himself in place with a hand against the windowsill and the other travels down your body to rub fast, tight circles into your clit. You let out a wanton, prolonged moan, tilt your head back to expose him to your fluttering throat. And then you’re pulling his lips onto yours again, and the following kiss is sloppy beyond belief, the kind that can only antedate the happiest of endings.

“My cock,” you sigh into his mouth. “Mine.”

“Forever,” is the breathy response he doesn’t know if he means, the response he gives you anyways.

And then you curl your fingers in his hair. Clamp your teeth around his lower lip. Clench your thighs around his waist. There’s liquid everywhere. Tearwater spilling down the sides of your face. Release gushing all over his dick and pelvis and backseat.

He catches up the moment he realizes what’s just happened. Pulls out of you. Presses his head against the roof of his car. Spits on his hand. Pumps his pulsating cock. Sends himself over the edge you’ve just finished tripping over.

Eventually, he regains feeling in his limbs.

He opens his eyes, surveys the damage, and grins.

Your stomach is covered in ropes of white, your expression hidden behind your hands. You start shaking your head in profuse embarrassment the moment you feel his eyes on you.

“You squirted,” he says.

“I know,” you almost yell, and his grin erupts into a laugh.

He lowers himself back over you, takes your wrists, and removes them from your blushing face. He doesn’t think he’s seen you so flustered before and it has him palpitating in ways he never thought feasible.

Maybe he did mean the damn thing after all.

He pushes off the strands of hair clinging to your damp forehead and replaces them with a gentle kiss. “It was sexy as fuck and you’re everything.”

There’s a certain softness in your eyes when he pulls away. He hopes, for your sake, it’s all in his head.

His car is in need of aftercare most of all. You shrug on your clothes with considerable effort and get to work, all while sharing comfortable chatter and easy laughter.

Those things persist during your dinner date at a nearby Chinese restaurant and the drive back to your place, which Jisung knows well enough to no longer need his GPS. Those things persist until he kisses you goodbye on your doorstep, because he would have to be fucking crazy not to after you gave him the best night he’s had in so long.

After you reminded him that he’s still capable of comfort and ease, in spite of it all.

Snow comes a few weeks into the new year.

This winter, it falls late, and it falls hard, like a gust of breath expelled from drawn lungs at the very last minute. Held there as if lying in wait for something unnamed and unseen.

The gust of breath is too quiet to be heard over the one Jisung lets out against the shell of your ear. “Wait here.”

He goes to roll off you. You don’t let him just yet, darting your hand around his wrist and bringing his face back within centimeters of yours.

Han Jisung is beautiful. You knew it for the first time at that houseparty and you’ve known it every hour of every day since. But it’s always clearest to you in the afterglow, when his bare skin is golden and sticky and his delicate lips bitten to bright fuchsia.

When his irises have gone black and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light.

You close the distance that remains between you. Your lips part with a content sigh. Your hands drift over the slant of his neck; his find home in the dips above your waist.

He breaks away once you’re both out of breath, and the pad of his thumb wipes lightly at your lower lip.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” you reply shyly. “I couldn’t help myself.”

The smile this brings to his face reminds you of a candle’s flame. Soft on the eyes and scalding to the touch when he presses it back against your lips. Once, twice.

“Can you wipe your cum off me now?” You whisper, and he laughs straight into your mouth.

The mattress lifts. His footsteps grow quieter. You shiver in his absence.

Only then do you notice the blizzard.

You stumble off the bed to throw your curtains aside. Snow descends from the sky like spools of unraveling yarn. The streetlights have been reduced to foggy specks, the parked cars to blurry heaps. Every sidewalk and rooftop in sight has already been slathered in ivory.

Jisung announces his return with a disbelieving whistle.

“Am I dreaming?” You murmur.

“When did that happen?”

“I have no idea.”

You don’t even notice the wild smile on your face until you turn to him and catch his reaction to it. He looks like he’s asking himself the same question.

“C’mere,” he hums, and you oblige.

He laves the warm towel over your breasts and stomach, as well as the places his release has trickled since you flung yourself to your feet. All while supporting the small of your back with a touch fatally careful, an expression wholly adoring. All evidence of just how blurry the line between sexual escapade and lover has become in two short months.

Your ribcage fucking throbs.

“You don’t seem excited,” you say.

He finishes cleaning you off. You give him a distracted thank you, noticing the sudden shadow draped over his face like a netted veil.

“I’m not,” he answers, not unkindly.

“You don’t like snow?”

“Not really.”

“Why?”

He circles around the bed to get dressed. You bend to pick up the clothes tossed aside earlier and drop them into your hamper, then slip into a clean pair of underwear and sweatpants.

“It’s a long story.”

Just as you reach for a top, a bundle of cloth travels in an arc across your bedroom and hooks itself around the crook of your arm. His T-shirt.

You glance at Jisung. He’s already looking elsewhere, but his private smile makes its way onto your face as you slip it on.

“Well, I have time.” You sink into your mattress, now surrounded by his muted musk, his papyrus and petrichor. “We’ll be stuck here a while, after all.”

“Stuck?” Jisung repeats, the lanyard of his car keys dangling from the pocket of his hoodie, his feet turned towards the door.

A pregnant pause commences. His intentions dawn, and you gape.

“You’re not driving right now.”

He breaks eye contact.

“Right?”

That was the plan, you read in his expression.

You know better than trying to reverse a river’s current by kicking up rocks. You know better than trying to curtail the flight of an albatross by clipping its wings.

You know better than asking someone who thinks he was made to leave to stay.

And you won’t.

“I have somewhere to be early tomorrow morning,” he stammers, the lines terribly rehearsed. “The snow’s not heavy, I’ll be—”

“Stay.”

You’re not asking.

Jisung looks at you, startled, as you glide across the bed. You place your feet on the hardwood and circle your arms around his waist. Lace your fingers upon the hollow of his back. His pulse goes uneven at your abrupt proximity.

Akin to the drag of a feather, you mouth at his cheek, then the side of his neck.

“You can stay, Jisung.”

He shudders at your words, and you’ve got him.

It’s oddly normal, the sight of him clambering into your bed in your clothing—a pair of old sweatpants and your favorite crewneck—like this isn’t the first time you’re sleeping together in your two months of sleeping together.

In fact, the only indication of anything unordinary is the floaty feeling in your stomach when your head hits the pillow and discover Jisung’s face only inches away. He drapes an arm over your waist, gathering you close. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

The inevitable question follows.

“Can I save the story for another time?”

“Sure,” you return, keeping your voice small. He doesn’t hear your disappointment this way. “Should we go to sleep, then?”

“We should.”

Your foreheads touch. Your noses bump together. Your eyes cross, watching the adoration pull at his. You dimly register your hand threading in his fluffy locks, his thumb running over your cheekbone. Your lashes narrowly miss the surface of his eyes, and then he tips your face up by millimeters.

You don’t remember when you fall asleep. You only recall the hour beforehand that you spend with Jisung’s lips traversing yours, like you are the ocean and he’s uncovering new waters with every bruise he prints against your throat, every suckle he leaves around your tongue.

In your dream, the roles reverse and you are the one exploring him, mapping out his constellations with wide-eyed wonder.

You wake to a black hole.

For the first five seconds, you see nothing. You hear nothing. You feel nothing. You only blink in the darkness, your mind kicking into groggy gear to ask the very good question of why you’re conscious again.

Instinct moves your hand across the mattress. Empty space greets you where Jisung should be. Unfounded dread shoves your back off the bed. You gasp, the sound seeming to echo in the cavernous silence.

Your eyes adjust enough to discern light in the crack beneath your door, and you’re wide awake.

The following events go by in a blur. You stumble out of bed and into your closet, fastening your fingers around the thickest piece of fabric you find. You fly into the living room, where the lamp by the couch is left on and the pair of worn black Converse on your doormat have gone missing.

The front door is cracked open, and through the narrow inches you spot someone hunched on the stairs outside, his dark hair dyed platinum by the awning light’s fluorescence.

Your heart stills in relief, then quickens with anxiety.

You’ve tried wearing this crewneck in January enough times to know you can’t. In fact, you suspect that it somehow soaks up the temperature, lets it seep in between its every seam until it becomes one with the bitter winds.

But he isn’t shivering, you notice as you take a seat next to him, draping the puffer over both of your shoulders on your way down. He’s simply staring off into the bleak storm, snowflakes sitting atop his head like a coating of ash, their color matching that of his frozen skin. He’s becoming one with the bitter winds.

At first, you don’t recognize the man in front of you.

You’re well familiar with those ring-laden hands and the whetted jawline thrown into shadow, those remnants of cologne clinging to his frame. But you have never seen that gaze before, bloodshot and bleak and belonging to somebody new. Somebody who isn’t completely here, straddling the partition between the realms of people and phantoms.

Then he lifts his eyes and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light. Your stars.

And you recognize him for the first time ever.

You drop your hand to your hip, and his fingers feel stiff and cold and perfect, sliding into the spaces between yours.

“Why don’t you like snow?” You ask.

Jisung’s eyes return to the swirling sleet, but he moves your interlocked hands to rest on his thigh, and you know that he’s with you.

He’s been having this nightmare.

It takes place in a small clearing. It’s winter, and everything is covered in snow. Not the gentle kind that you can catch on your tongue, but the unyielding kind that’s hard and dense and covered in cracks, like a lake newly frozen over.

Somebody is in front of him, walking away. He can only see their back. He wants to chase after them. He doesn’t want to be left behind. But there are ghosts nearby, and they’ll split his skull open on the permafrost and tie his windpipe into a pretty bow if he so much as dreams of pursuit. He always does. He doesn’t know how not to.

Normally, the back leaves, and he can do nothing but remain. He can direct his loathing only to the snow into which he bleeds.

Normally, he waits for the dream to end with something bordering on boredom. He’s seen this movie too many times. He fucking hates how it ends.

This time, though, the snow tastes like something.

After the flavors deliquesce upon his tongue, his head shoots up, his eyes blowing wide as they latch onto the retreating figure. He knows who it is.

His feet scrabbles against the ice with his attempts to rise to them. He lunges forward with frenzied resolve, and that is when the ghosts snap his neck.

He wakes up.

“Cherry blossoms and vanilla.”

You blink, tearwater streaking from your eyes in silent, steaming trails.

“That’s—”

My shampoo.

A broken sob escapes you in lieu of the rest of your sentence, and Jisung laughs, a flimsy facade that crumbles when he lifts his hand to dab at your moistened cheeks and it’s trembling.

“Silly,” he murmurs. “I’m used to it now.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“I don’t want you to cry for me.”

“You died.”

“And I would do it again.”

This response comes without an shred of hesitation.

You first realized you had something to confess, that night in the the back of Jisung’s SUV. You’ve kept it locked away for your sake and his, even moreso. You see how fear clings to him like an unshakeable wraith, and you refuse to feed the parasite.

Now, your confession explodes from its fortress in the center of your soul and rises up your larynx. You panic like an inept security guard letting their only prisoner bolt free. Is it really the right time? Do you know what to say? Have you really thought this through?

Too late. It’s rushing to the point of your tongue already. You suppose you’ll find out.

He saves you the trouble.

“Honestly?”

Your confession stills.

“I don’t know if I’m okay, and I won’t try to convince you otherwise. You’d call my bluff. You’re good at that.

“But everything feels okay when I’m with you. You see me. You allow me just to exist as I am. You make me feel human again—you make me want to feel human again. You empty my mind.”

You feel as if you’ve been ejected into space naked, griping for air where there is none.

“I never believed in having somebody to lose,” he utters, gently leaning his forehead against yours. “But I would rather disappear than watch you go.”

You cradle his jaw with shaking fingers, trying and failing to quell the violence of your emotion.

“Don’t go,” he exhales.

You kiss him.

It should feel the same as before. You reach for the slant of his neck, him the dips above your waist. You sigh into him, parting your lips, and he moves into you deeper, harder, dipping into your mouth with his tongue’s pliant swipe. But there’s something new in the way you hold each other, in the seal of your mouth against his.

The line between sexual escapade and lover vanishes as if swept off the sand and into the sea. His stars come out of hiding at last and they bathe you in their residue, light your heart aglow.

Your confession resurfaces. It wants to stargaze also.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

The night comes and goes.

The two of you spend it entangling, sweating, your lips glued the expanse of his neck and the arcs of his shoulders, writing over the ghosts’ injuries with bruises of your making.

Only when the winds have faltered outside do you attempt to rest again. You are curled up in balmy bliss, utterly depleted. Jisung’s arms around your middle and legs threaded among yours bring you that much closer to slumber’s cusp.

You attribute it to your exhaustion when he mumbles something against you, and you have no idea what it means: “Thank you for refracting me.”

Your confusion is palpable in your silence. His laugh hits the nape of your neck with a gentle puff, and he kisses the spot just beneath your ear. “Never mind.”

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・ @automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten

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everyonewooeverywhere · 11 months ago

Text

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ mechanic!mingi x f!reader

synopsis ✭ when a random girl keeps shamelessly flirting with mingi, despite his many attempts to ward her off, he needs a knight dressed his own sweater and a black mini skirt to fend her off.

content/genre ✭ smut (18+ MDNI)

word count ✭ 2.5k

warnings ✭ smut, please MDNI (seriously), clothed sex (mostly), on top of his car (🫣), fingering, minor jealousy (from mc), spanking, despite the title there's really no dom/sub dynamic (just mc trying to protect her man)

✭✭✭✭

You noticed her immediately when you pulled your car into the shop. Of course you did, she was chatting it up with your boyfriend with a hand reaching out to grab his arm. He pulled back in obvious disinterest, but it irked you nonetheless that another woman was after your man. You knew him well enough to know that he’d definitely told her he had a girlfriend. Despite this, she certainly seemed to think that she was his type. With her grease-stained cargo pants and tight tank top you could tell she worked with cars just like him.

So what the fuck did she need here? You wondered to yourself.

You hadn’t yet gotten out of the car and continued to watch them from a distance when someone knocked on your window. Yunho grinned down at you from outside the car. You waved at him, slightly embarrassed that he’d caught you staring so intently at the sight in front of you. He gave you a friendly wave as you stepped out of the car.

When you got out of the car, you saw her give you a glance over and roll her eyes. Oh you were gonna fucking lose it. It was obvious from the way she had looked at you that she was judging your appearance, and you got the vibe that she would give you the same treatment that most other men you give you if you came to them with a car problem. Like you were some stupid little girl who would be easy to upsell. Did you know anything about cars, not really, but you had a sexy mechanic boyfriend to do that shit for you so what was the need?

“She’s been here every day this week,” Yunho informed you, clearly aware of your annoyance toward the woman giving bedroom eyes at Mingi, “claims something different is wrong every time she comes in, but when she gets here everything works fine. Then she never leaves. She’s luck it’s been a slow week, or he would have fully lost it by now”

You scoff quietly, “have you tried to ‘help’ her?”

“Yes,” he sighs, “but she always dodges my help and finds a way to drag him back over.”

Of course she does.

“Anyway, is anything wrong with your car?”

“Of course not,” you laugh, “but, if you wanna take a look, be my guest.”

Yes, you were fully aware of the irony of you and this woman having identical motives when pulling your cars into the shop, but at least you were always a welcome surprise who didn’t go around trying to sleep with other people’s boyfriends.

“Sure. I’ll look,” Yunho grabbed your keys from you. “Um, by the way, I can tell you he certainly wouldn’t mind if you went over and saved him. You know, assert your dominance.”

That line made you giggle. You brushed out your black mini skirt and checked your lip gloss in the side mirror of your car. Luckily, you were feeling incredibly cute today, in your possibly too short skirt and sweater that totally belonged to your boyfriend. The heels on your feet were a gift from him as well, and you always felt sexy hearing the sound they made when you walked. And that was the noise they made as you made your way over to them.

She saw you first. “I’m sorry, can we help you? Isn’t he helping you out?” She asked, clearly annoyed, pointing her finger at Yunho who was checking out your tires. Clearly trying to ward you off, and you got the idea that she knew exactly who you were.

Her acknowledgment of you though, made Mingi turn around. Finally seeing you for the first time since you’d stepped foot in his shop today. He was visibly relieved as he took a step toward you, “hey baby, I didn’t realize you were coming in today.”

He grinned when you placed a manicured hand on his chest. He wouldn’t bring it up now, but he fucking loved when your jealous side came out. And he knew that this specific touch’s purpose was to stake your claim.

“I missed you,” you sighed, stepping closer, “you’ve been so busy this week, and I haven’t seen you at all.”

His hands found your waist and pulled you all the way into him, “I know baby. I’m so sorry.” He placed a chaste kiss on your cheek, “I've had a lot of customers waste my time this week, and I just can’t catch a break.”

You giggle as the girl next to you scoffs, “Wow Mingi, you didn’t tell me your girlfriend was so,” she eyed you up and down again but, before she can finish what was bound to be a wonderful insult, you cut her off.

“Oh so you knew he had a girlfriend and were still all over him like a bitch in heat.”

She laughed at you, "he doesn't mind. Right, Min? Sorry sweetheart, you're not as special as you might think. Maybe, he needs someone a little more real, not some plastic bitch who doesn't even know how to change her own tires."

Sensing that you were about to fully unleash yourself onto this fucking cunt, Mingi put a soothing hand on your shoulder and spoke sternly, “Get out.”

She gaped at him, “Wha-”

“You can fucking fix your car yourself, if there’s even anything wrong with it, but make sure you see Yunho on your way out. He’ll charge you before you leave.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I’m serious. You’ve wasted a lot of fucking time for me this week with your perfectly fine car. My time is precious, and since you wasted it, I'm gonna need you to pay up.”

He looked back over at your car, “Yunho, please deal with this.”

The other man’s shoulders slumped, clearly not keen on dealing with this woman, but he made no effort to argue. You made a mental note to bring him lunch next time you came in to make up for it.

Mingi grabbed the hand that’s still on his chest and leaned down to your ear, “come with me.”

✭✭✭✭

“God, I’ve missed you so fucking much baby,” he breathed into you neck as he placed kisses on it.

You smiled and placed a hand in his hair, gripping lightly onto his dark hair, “I’ve missed you, too.”

You were in the back of the shop, where Mingi kept his own car. You didn’t know the make or the model, but you knew it was a sexy car. And you were well acquainted with it. From it pulling up outside your apartment for the occasional lunch date. To late nights in the backseat when you both knew you couldn’t make it to a bed. And then to moments like these. Days in the shop where your boyfriend wanted nothing more than to see you all on display for him on top of the hood.

“Why didn’t you tell me someone was bothering you, Min?” you pouted as his hands fiddled with the edge of your (his) sweater.

“Oh, y/n I can handle myself, baby, you don’t need to worry yourself with stuff like that.”

Sighing, you placed a hand on his cheek, “you know I just wanna help and be there for you. Will you at least tell me next time?”

“Of course. I’m sorry I didn’t bring it up. I promise I’ll tell you next time. Ok?”

You nodded as you moved your hand from his cheek to the back of his head, pulling him back down to your lips. His hands started wandering as the two of you explored each other’s mouths. He removed a hand that was tangled in your hair and caressed your neck. His mouth followed the hand, leaving plenty of dark spots all over your pretty neck.

When he reached for the hem of the sweater you were wearing, you grabbed at his hand, “I don’t wanna get naked in here.”

And you really didn’t. As much as you loved your boyfriend, getting fully undressed anywhere but the bedroom was a line you very rarely crossed. Especially in a place as unkempt and naturally messy as the shop he spends most of his days in. You were a woman of at least a little class, but keeping your clothes on didn’t mean that sex was off the table. Not at all, actually.

“Ok, love,” he moved his hands to fiddle with the edge of your skirt, “it’s a good thing you wore such a tiny skirt today then, right?”

You nodded, biting your lip to suppress your smile, “you can take my panties off if you really want to, though.” You said through a whisper.

He didn’t need any convincing because in the next moment he’d slipped your panties off your legs and put them in his pocket. His hands were under your skirt now. One gripping your waist and holding you in place. The other teasingly stroking your inner thigh.

“Mingi, please,” you begged breathily, desperately trying to shift closer to his hand, but the other one on your waist was completely preventing that.

He smirked at your desperation, “patience, baby. I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

As a man of his word, his thumb brushed your clit, and you let out a whine when he pushed two fingers into you. He worked over your clit with his thumb as he pumped his fingers in and out of you.

“Oh, Min–” you moaned and gripped his shoulders tight.

The hand from your waist moved to grab your throat as he leaned close to your ear, “God, baby, you moan so pretty for me. You’ll let me know when you’re close, yeah?”

You could barely get out a breath “yes” before he slid another finger into your already soaking cunt. Your grip on his shoulders tightened. Wrapping a leg around his back, you arched your back, trying every option to get as close to him as possible. You lost all control of your hips and ground yourself into his hand in sync with his own movements.

When you felt the familiar knot in your stomach, you whined, and your eyes fluttered shut, “I’m close! So close.”

“Let go for me baby. I got you.”

As you reached your climax, you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Good girl,” his lips reached your own as you came down from your high. He pulled you off the hood of his car and set you on the ground. He looked you up and down, admiring you fully. He lifted a hand to caress your face and his thumb brushed over your cheek. Smiling, he said, “you always do so good for me baby. Turn around for me, yeah?”

You turned around quickly, eager for what you knew was coming next. Without him even having to ask, you leaned over the hood of his car. Giving him just the view he wanted. His hands were quick to flip up your skirt and smooth his hands over your ass. He gripped one cheek in his hand, and you braced yourself on your forearms. When he let go, you wiggled your ass and looked back over your shoulder. Challenging him with your eyes.

He brought his hand back down on your ass, slapping it. When you let out an obvious and loud moan, he smirked and leaned down over you, “you’re so fucking impatient baby, are you really so worked up? Let me help you out. Does that sound good?”

“Please, Mingi,” you begged (god he loved when you couldn’t stop begging), “I need you!”

“Where do you need me, baby?”

“Inside,” you moaned when he slapped your ass again.

“You want my cock, baby?” You could hear him unzipping his pants and the rustle of fabric behind you. Fucking finally.

All you could do was nod desperately and look back at him over your shoulder with begging eyes. He couldn’t fucking hold it together when you gave him those eyes. So desperate and needy that he could almost see tears. And the pout on your lips was the cherry on top.

You braced yourself again when he gripped his hips with one hand. When he finally pushed into you, you moaned out softly.

With one hand gripping your waist hard enough to bruise and the other playing with your clit, he thrust into you. His car shook, and you struggled to hold yourself up but, god, it felt so good. After a week of missing him constantly, you couldn’t think of anything but how full you felt with each thrust. He couldn’t help himself, either from telling you how good you felt.

Shit, baby, you just keep getting wetter.

You just love it when I fill you up like this, don’t you?

Oh, you’re close, baby. I can feel you closing around me so good.

Fuuuuck, god angel I’m almost there. Can I fill you up?

“Yes, yes, yes, please!” you cried. Your loud and pornographic moans bounced off the walls as you reached your climax.

He followed soon after, filling you to the brim. You felt so warm and flushed. Your eyes fluttered in post-orgasm bliss. Panting, he flipped you back over onto your back and helped you sit up. He kissed you one more time, “thank you for coming to visit.”

“Of course,” you laughed softly, “I mean if you reward me like this everytime, then I’ll just come in every day like that bitch earlier, but I can’t promise I’ll pay you for your time.”

“Oh baby, you being here is enough, and your pretty pussy is the perfect payment,” he moved a finger back down to your core and pushed his cum back inside of you.

“Mmmm,” you ran hand through his hair, nails scraping his scalp, “as much as I’d love to go again, you closed an hour ago, and Yunho’s probably waiting for you to lock up.”

Mingi groaned as he finished putting his pants back on. He lifted you off the car, “can I have my panties back please?” You reached a hand out to him.

“Oh,” he laughed as he reached into his pocket to give them back to you.

✭✭✭✭

“Did she leave?” Mingi asked his friend who was finishing up putting new tires on your car. So maybe you actually did need something done with it.

The other man laughed, “oh she left alright. She tried to stick around, but when she heard you two having fun back there she took off. Kinda felt bad for her honestly.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed at his sympathy even though you felt an immense sense of satisfaction at knowing you had fended her off so easily. You had “asserted your dominance” to quote Yunho.

Mingi placed a hand on your lower back, “don’t worry baby, we won’t be seeing her for a while.” He turned to Yunho, “You can go man, I’ll finish locking up. Thanks for your help.”

“Good night man, have fun locking up.” Clearly implying that you might distract him from such a task.

When Yunho was gone, it was only seconds before you were backed into the back door of your own car, and Mingi reached around you to open the door. “Get in, baby.”

You could only giggle as you climbed in, pulling him in after you by the collar of his t-shirt. When he shut the door behind him, he leaned over you, “just one more. Ok, baby?”

“Ok,” you responded breathlessly. Knowing full well you would be under him in your bed soon enough.

✭✭✭✭

note ✭ thank you for reading. i'm trying my best over here, but university is kicking my ass. so i appreciate you reading what is essentially a coping mechanism 😀🥲

also this was so nerve racking to post so SEND ME VALIDATION (if you want 😙)

srsly though, thanks for reading! feel free to lmk what you think. reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

have a wonderful day!

mwah~

#mingi smut #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #atz x reader #mingi x reader #18+ mdni #mdni #everyonewooeverywhere #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dj's work #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ mingi #*ੈ✩‧₊˚ smut

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genderkoolaid · 11 months ago

Note

The transandrophobia brainrot has hit tiktok hard. There's a sound going around right now that uses the T slur in a reclamatory way, but whenever a transmasc person uses the sound people lose their minds saying it's transmisogynistic for them to use that word. But when cis male drag queens use the audio it's a slay.

My answer to those people is Get Kate Bornstein'd:

Tranny. Many people don’t know the history of the word, they assume it was an assigned hate term or slur along the lines of the “n” word. That’s not how it happened. Tranny was invented by us in Sydney, Australia in the 1970s where drag was a big deal, and still the best drag shows ever are in Sydney, Australia – they’re amazing. So a lot of trans-identified women who were assigned male at birth did drag, that’s how you made your living. And so they were transsexuals, transvestites, drag queens, and they were all doing drag to make money. They all bickered amongst each other who is better than who, “Well the drag queens are better,” “No, the transsexuals are better.” “You are all freaks, we’re better.” And on and on and on. But they worked together and they were family together, so they came up with a word that would say family and that was tranny. In Australia they do the diminutive, that’s how they come up with words. So tranny. I learned the word in the mid-1980s, late 1980s from my drag mom in San Francisco, Doris Fish, who was the city’s preeminent drag queen and she’d come from Sydney. And she schooled me in this word tranny, she said, “This way it means we’re family, darling.” “Thank you mama.” [...] So we used it and we were trannies together. And F to M was just beginning to start, the trans men were just beginning to become visible, Lou Sullivan was a neighbor of mine around the corner, and he was the first big out trans man, wrote his book. So trans men and cross dressers . . . cross dressers were also family. Transsexuals, we were all trannies and that felt good. That got into the sex industry and became a genre – there was tranny porn, there were tranny sex workers – chicks with dicks, she-males. [...] And, my only guess is that people who . . . because the only way they would have found out about the word is if they were watching tranny porn or having been with a tranny sex worker and then hated themselves so much that they turned it into a curse word. So it’s not really technically correct to say we’re reclaiming a word – it was always ours. So, many people mistake the word for the hatred behind the word and, in my generation, and I’m sure in future generations of trans people, tranny is going to be a radicalized, sexualized identity of trans in the same way that faggot is a prideful identity in the gay male community – not all gay men are faggots, but those who are are proudly fags and those who are dykes are proudly dykes within the lesbian community, trannies are proudly tranny within the transgender community. Does that mean we can’t call ourselves that because some trans woman does not want to be called a tranny? No. I’m going to keep calling myself a tranny. To the trans woman who gets called tranny, I’m sorry – as soon as . . . you’ve got to look at why you’re getting called tranny and if you don’t pass, you’re going to be read as a transgender person and then you fall back on the cultural view of trans folk which is freak, disgusting, not worth living, we can hurt you. It has nothing to do with the word, it has everything to do with the cultural attitude. So the word has stirred up a shit storm, but it’s not the word.

^ From this interview

Four weeks ago, Bear posted a call for submissions on his blog. In the interests of keeping the call as open as possible, we agreed to include as many trans-identities as we knew, so we used the word "tranny." And that's where the activist shit hit the postmodern fan base. People have been pissed. Here's their argument: FTMs are co-opting a word that belongs to MTFs. The word "tranny" belongs to MTFs, reason those who were hurt by our use of the word, because it was a denigrating term reclaimed by MTFs—ergo, only MTFs could be known as trannies. I spoke with Bear, and we agree that’s wrong on several counts:

Tranny began as a uniting term amongst ourselves. Of course it’s going to be picked up and used as a denigrating term by mean people in the world. But even if we manage to get them to stop saying tranny like a thrown rock, mean people will come up with another word to wound us with. So, let’s get back to using tranny as a uniting term amongst ourselves. That would make Doris Fish very happy.

It's our first own language word for ourselves that has no medical-legacy.

Even if (like gay) hate-filled people try to make tranny into a bad word, our most positive response is to own the word (a word invented by the queerest of the queer of their day). We have the opportunity to re-create tranny as a positive in the world.

Saying that FTMs can’t call themselves trannies eerily echoes the 1980s lesbians who said I couldn’t use the word woman to identify myself, and the 1990s lesbians who said I couldn’t use the word dyke.

At one phase in the evolution of transpeople-as-tribe, it was the male-to-females who were visible and representative of trans to the rest of the world. They were the trannies. Today? Ironically true to the binary we’re in the process of shattering, the pendulum has swung so that it's now female-to-males who are the archetypal trannies of the day. The generation coming up beyond the next generation, i.e. my tribal grandchildren are the young boys who transition to young girls at the age of five or six. They’re the next trannies. None of us can own the word. We can only be grateful that our tribe is so much larger than we had thought it would be. How to come together—now that’s the job of the next generation of gender outlaws.

^ From Who You Calling A Tranny?

We've been having this debate forever and its been stupid forever.

And its an increasingly outdated debate. More people know about trans men&mascs than ever and there are plenty of TM&Ms who have been called tranny by transphobes who don't give a shit about this distinction. And not just people who have been mistaken for transfems, either, but men like Andrew Jonathan Blake-Newton and Saye Skye who were attacked by people who knew them. Do they have more or less of a right to say tranny than a trans girl whose never been called it by a transphobe? (Neither. Because no one owns this word.)

#m.#ask box

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strawberrystepmom · 6 months ago

Text

ready to eat

pairing: Yami Sukehiro x F!Noble Reader

word count: 4.9k

contents: NSFW - minors and ageless blogs dni, I will hard block you. Takes place in canon universe, there is a slight age/experience difference insinuated between the pairing but reader is at least 25, reader has named magical ability (movement magic), so much banter, oral sex (f receiving and finishing and it's sexy)

cw: mentions of marriage and misogyny, virginity (reader is a virgin)

notes: brain rot has proven to be fatal so here you are. this is open ended and i would not consider it a oneshot bc i'd love to write more about these two. hope you enjoy! thank you for reading ♡ | crossposted to ao3, divider by @cafekitsune

you can find more about these two here, here, here and here 🖤

Nighttime is your time, a lesson you taught yourself independent of your instructors many years ago.

Movement magic allows you the luxury of blending in with your scenery, rushing unseen toward a capital district that is on the opposite end of where your family has made their name. Nobody here would recognize you even if you were less discreet, cloak gathered around your face and obscuring any unidentifiable features, and the freedom is indescribable; better than every sunny day or freshly made tea dessert.

You are free to be yourself. Unmarried, unattached, unimportant, it doesn’t matter. You stumble into the usual inn you make your domain until the sun rises, ready to watch the way people you have little in common with live. If anyone knew you’d get reprimanded, probably rightfully, though you have never quite understood the scandal that lies in being a well informed woman. Your mother was a gossip and isn’t that another way to become informed?

It’s society's acceptable way, anyway.

You slink into the corner table, away from the crowd gathered nearer the bar, and slip your hood off of your face. No glances of recognition from anyone else, too engrossed in their own drinks and their own conversations, and you sink down against the back of the chair you’re sitting in. It’s nice to be anonymous, you decided months ago when you began doing this. You aren’t certain you want to continue being so inconspicuous when you remind yourself why you’ve been doing this to begin with - to gain even the slightest bit of the life experience that continues to elude you. To love and laugh and feel joy that you’ve been told only comes with marriage, something you are too apprehensive about committing to.

It’s why you come namelessly into a district that does not belong to you or your kind. You hope that someone will find you interesting, a beaten path off their life’s track. Someone to laugh with or tell stories to. It’s all you’ve ever really wanted, a romantic to your core despite the decidedly unromantic life you lead. Caretaking, getting earfuls from your father about being a responsibility that the family no longer wants to have when taking your age and failed proposals into consideration. So lost in your own thoughts, you barely notice when a man slides into the chair next to you, glancing down at your hands and then at your face.

“You need to stop wearing whatever is making you smell like that.”

The interruption to your quiet evening makes you jump, no longer dissociating and now in the present. You recognize the man sitting next to you, a captain of a Magic Knights squad. Their faces are plastered all over the capital and you’re shocked that he stumbled into such a low brow establishment though getting a look at him up close convinces you that he may not be in the entirely wrong spot.

“Captain Sukehiro,” you offer politely, formal as ever. “I regret having to request clarification from a man as esteemed as yourself but what do you mean?”

The captain snorts, shaking his head in response to you as though your manners are piteous instead of a courtesy that should be extended to all.

“Don’t call me that, Yami is fine.” He sniffs, stuffing a cigarette between his lips. “I’m talking about the shit you’re wearing that is filling every corner of this place. People don’t wear things that make them smell like bakeries around here.”

Scrunching your nose, you lift your wrist to your nose for a sniff. He’s referencing the perfume you spritzed on after bathing and the way it sticks to you, the smell wafting around the table with every move you make. It hasn’t caught any eyes yet, thankfully, but he can see how this will end if you don’t correct your mistake now.

“What are you doing around here anyway? I figured women of your, uh, breed or whatever stuck to their own districts.”

Bristling slightly at his insinuation that you find yourself too good to hang out here, you square your shoulders and clear your throat. A low chuckle rumbles in Yami while he lights his cigarette, raising his brows and eagerly awaiting whatever argument you are clearly cooking up in that little head of yours.

“I’ll have you know that I enjoy exploring parts of the city that I rarely see. I am out here thanks to my own curiosity.” Your eyes shift from Yami toward the rest of the tavern, a small smile on your face watching the patrons laugh amongst themselves. “I think it’s really wonderful that people are happy no matter how they were born into this world and I’m thankful to be able to experience this side of life too.”

The captain could spend all night laughing at your naivety if you’d let him but he doesn’t wanna let you dig any deeper of a hole than you’re already finding yourself in. You’re clearly a fully grown woman, even the doll-like roundness of your eyes and cheeks can’t convince him you’re under 25 judging from the way you carry yourself. You aren’t the first noble girl he has ever seen sneak off in an attempt to find herself yet it strikes him as hilarious you clearly believe it.

“So you aren’t like the other nobles? You see people as people?” The brusque individual takes a long drink from the mug in his hand, Adam’s apple bobbing while he swallows, your eyes fixed on the sheer size of his neck and throat. “What do you want? A prize?”

Even the enticing muscles of his body (how can one person have so many muscles bulging off of them anyway?) cannot distract enough to forget that he’s insulting you. You place your hands in your lap and fiddle with the edge of the cloak that covers the simple nightgown you are wearing, covering it enough that no one is suspicious about why you’re wearing nightclothes in the first place.

“No, I’m simply telling you what I’m doing here because you asked.”

Sipping from his mug, the man glances you up and down. He swallows and squares his shoulders.

“Okay? That still doesn’t tell me what you’re actually doing here, you’re only talking about feelings and shit.” Another sip and he places his ale down. “So what are you doing here? Isn’t it a little late for your type to be out with the rest of us?”

He considers you for a moment. Not bad looking. Pretty, even. Not plain in the way some overly manicured noble women can come across and you clearly aren’t using magic to enhance anything about you or else he’d notice. He’s a pro at sniffing out transformation magic in women having seen so many who have taught themselves to dabble in the arts to subtly tweak their appearances. You sigh and he finds it impressively naive to do so, your shoulders pinching in while you exhale sharply out of your nose.

“I’m looking for someone to help me.” Now this is interesting. He raises a brow, glancing you up and down. You lean toward him, creating a veil of intimacy in a crowded tavern, elbows resting on the table rudely. “I, um, I fear I’ll be woefully unprepared for my marriage bed once the time arrives and I want to avoid embarrassment. I’m already too old to be considered marriageable to most and my heart could not take physical rejection from my husband as well.”

“You’re a virgin and feel weird about it and now you’re makin’ it my problem.”

Gasping, your eyes widen and you shake your head rapidly. Yami smirks when he senses how quickly your heart is pounding beneath those layers of fabrics most in this place could only ever dream of seeing much less feel against their skin, curious enough that he won’t just tell you to get lost at this point.

“Please do not repeat my predicament so loudly, Captain Sukehiro.” You whisper hiss, fighting the urge to kick him beneath the table as you do the rest of your fathers’ unruly issue you are the eldest of. “It’s not something I’m terribly proud of.”

The captain scoffs, humming to himself and adjusting his posture so that he’s leaning toward you instead of on the back of his chair, cigarette dangling from his fingers. You’ve captured his attention, at least for now, and he’ll give you all of it that you can handle. Pursing his lips, he glances around the bar for a split second before focusing on you, gray eyes locked on your pouting mouth.

“Then why is it your situation in the first place? Thought you nobles were too proud for your own good.” He flicks the lighter in his pocket. “And don’t call me that. Yami is fine.”

You should find it very rude that you are being asked so many questions and being made to suit so many demands made by a lesser born to begin with but the curiosity feels like deeply personalized attention, causing you to bloom in response. Hunched shoulders stretch out, the graceful posture you’ve spent what would amount to months of your life if you stretched the hours out perfecting appearing. No one at home is this curious about you outside of when you will no longer be around to tend the younger children your father continues to spawn and it feels different to be the center of a man’s attention.

Not a weak, defanged little noble whose only function is to act as an additional limb for his father. A man with rough hands and battle scars and overgrown hair down his neck.

“I haven’t felt a spark with any of the men I’ve been introduced to. They’re lovely individuals with proud lineage but it has always felt so…” you search around the room, lifting your hand to your mouth to idly nip at the cuticle around your thumbnail. “Forced. I don’t want to be with them and they do not want to be with me. Four men and none of them made me feel like I could spend the rest of my life with them.”

Once again, Yami chuckles at your predicament. Your cheeks heat in response, ears tingling and burning as that familiar feeling of being mocked encourages you to retreat inward. The awareness that you do not have to put up with this kind of treatment from a man beneath your station

“Sounds like you’re hard to impress, kid.” A plume of smoke is blown over your head, the cigarette he was holding now dangling from his lips while he examines you with narrowed eyes. “Little darling won’t settle for less than a fairytale.”

Retreating further into yourself, you move your hands from your lap to fold your arms over your chest.

“I’m no child, obviously.”

Your retort is as petulant as your posture and the man smirks, the corner of his mouth jumping, tenting his fingers in front of him and leaning toward you. Despite himself, he likes you. Your willingness to shit here and just shoot the shit with him has impressed him but not enough to let you off easy.

“You’re here beggin’ for attention like one so I dunno about all that.”

Scoffing, you shift in your chair but make no effort to get up. You won’t be picked off by him that easily.

“You know nothing about me, sir.” You raise your brows and shift your head to emphasize your point, arms still folded. A grown woman behaving like a little brat shouldn’t draw a man like this in yet he considers himself intrigued, stamping out the nearly depleted butt of his cigarette on the edge table in front of him.

“Can’t argue with that. Keep talking.”

He leans back in his chair and sizes you up, boots stacked on top of each other where his ankles are crossed and his long legs are extended out in front of him. It’s one thing to be keeping him here against his will because you won’t stop talking, it’s another when he is a willing audience. Your mouth runs dry and you gradually unfold your arms, placing them above your knee so you can subtly rid your clammy palms of the prickling sweat across them.

“I want to experience the things that a husband and wife are to experience together though I do not have anyone to enjoy them with.” Even the way nobles describe sex is stuffy and uncomfortable, Yami realizes, brows raising slightly. He lets you continue speaking before butting in, letting his arms dangle from the sides of the chair. “Perhaps it’s wrong of me to believe it will change my luck but I won’t change my mind. I have to know how to…perform.”

Perform is such an interesting choice of word. All of the sex the captain has ever had has been far less of a performance and more of a two person dance, locked in repetitive motions and tangled up as one form. He isn’t much for the sappy, intimate shit you’re clearly insinuating you’d like though he feels like he could help you.

“I’ll tell you what,” he starts, leaning back toward you and closing the distance to once again grant you some semblance of privacy. “I can show you how a man should treat a woman but I can’t promise you it’s how a husband will treat his wife, you understand?”

Your eyes widen and you nod once, picking up on his meaning immediately. Impressed by your sharp wit he smiles although it’s nearly as unfriendly as the ones exchanged at court and only slightly less smug. Leaning in toward him, your brows knit together, and you bunch your skirt up in your fists.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for, you know…” you trail off, frowning slightly. He pretends like he doesn’t understand what you mean, shaking his head and staring vacantly at your mouth. “I don’t know if I’m ready for you to take me.”

Another snort from him and your face heats like a wildfire. The two of you remained locked in this strange posture, whispering but not quite, discussing the terms of whatever is occurring here. Blood rushes from your face to your chest to your stomach, a familiar tense feeling between your legs making you shift uncomfortably in your chair.

“The only one who would be doing any taking in that scenario is me and you don’t have to worry about that tonight.” He tips his mug and finishes off the last droplets of his ale, sliding the empty vessel across the table top where it stops just short of you.

“What if we never see each other again after tonight?” That sappy shit he was right to assume you wanted has surfaced earlier than he expected. He shrugs flippantly, arching a brow. “Then we never see each other tonight but at least you can say you know how it feels when a man takes care of you.”

Inhaling loudly, you weigh your options.

You can always get up and go home, turn tail and run to where you will always be viewed as something akin to a decorative sconce on the wall instead of a human being. Your opinion matters not, you’re a glorified caretaker for your younger siblings, some of who are your fathers rightful heirs thanks to the boyhood the Gods so mercifully granted them. You can retreat and continue wasting away waiting for a man who thrills you enough that you can ever see him as someone deserving of being your equal.

Or, you can consider Yami’s offer. He’s rough around the edges and speaks with no formality or regard and you like it. At least you think you do. He doesn’t care who you are any more than the others around you do yet he makes you feel the most seen anyone ever has. He’s interested in your words, your ideas, and even your pleasure - a realization that makes the knot in your stomach tighten further.

“Okay.” You concede. “I think that I’d like that.”

The man rises from his seat, smirking, tossing some coins down on the table in front of him for the drink.

“I know you will,” he finishes, words dripping with honesty but not arrogance.

He begins to head toward the stairs that will lead the two of you upstairs and your breath catches when he looks over his shoulder and raises his brows, signaling with a wave that you should follow him. You toss a few more coins on the table in front of you, uncertain of how much a room in an establishment like this would cost to begin with, and rush to follow him with your cloak pulled tightly against your body.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

This room is nothing like your quarters at home where everything around you gleams in gold and marble and silk. It may be decidedly less impressive though it’s twice as cozy if you’re honest.

The bed is barely large enough for two and there’s a well loved desk pushed against the wall, magical light flickering from the wall. Shutting the door unceremoniously, you swallow and feel the captain at your back, a large palm covering the entirety of the space between your shoulder blades. You don’t recall him seeming so imposing downstairs, glancing upward to meet his eyes. He can tell you are inexperienced solely by how skittish you’ve become beneath his fingertips, an intriguing shift from who you were sitting opposite him.

Boldly asking a man to pleasure you has told him everything about the person you are beneath the skirts and the trappings of society. If he waits long enough he knows that hungry girl will once again show her face to him and while he isn’t particularly patient, he believes it would be worth his while to wait.

“Go sit on the edge of the bed.” He instructs right above your ear and gently shoves you toward where he’s commanded you be.

You follow directions and sit, legs dangling off of the edge, unfastening your cloak and letting it rest on the bed. The knot in your belly remains tight, keeping you on edge with all of your movements while your walls throb weakly, arousal and curiosity bearing down on you with similar weight. Sukehiro towers over you, slowly unfastening his belt and cloak, leaving the leather goods and his katana on the desk.

“I’m going to lick your pussy. Do you know what that means?”

Cheeks warming, once again surprised by his lack of decency, you nod once. You have read about this particular act more than once and have also heard about it secondhand from some of the married women you call friends although their reviews have been mixed. Books have always made it seem far more interesting, an exchange in the same way a kiss is between a man and the paradise between a woman’s legs.

“Good, at least I won’t have to explain all the technicalities.” He approaches you slowly and squats down, now face level with your middle. You glance down at him and wonder if you should touch him, if he’d like it, if he’d want you to. “Lift your hips.” The next command gives you reprieve from overthinking and you do as asked, raising them enough that he can pull your nightgown from beneath your thighs, spreading them to fit between.

“If you don’t like something, speak up.” He glances up at you, holding your nightgown halfway over his face. “If you do like something, speak up and I’ll keep goin’.”

The linen of your nightgown stretches and tents in the shape of Yami’s head and shoulders when he pulls it over himself, too big to be fully covered by the fabric. His back is curled into a C shape and the muscles ripple while he positions you, hands that you can feel but cannot see gripping the outside of your soft thighs to keep you from deciding at the last minute you are feeling shy.

It’s too late for you to fall back on the shy act now, your panties dangling off of one of your ankles. Even if you attempted, you know the man currently fixated on spreading you open with his fingers would surface from beneath your skirt and laugh at you. Your heart simply could not take the open derision and ridicule, already feeling overextended thanks to this evening’s excitement.

“Alright, you’re about to feel something different,” he warns kindly, puffs of his breath fanning out against the slickened skin of your labia. The low rumble of his voice sends another rush of wetness seeping out of your cunt, excitement mixing with terror while you await the pleasure you were promised.

Your hips shift impatiently on the edge of the dingy inn bed, legs on either side of his still dressed torso. His tank top is untucked from his pants and he no longer wears his belt, discarding the unnecessary while remaining firmly in control of the situation. There isn’t much that makes his mouth water but the sight of warm and just for him pussy is doing just that, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip.

His thumbs massage the outside of your thighs, keeping you as relaxed as possible, and he leans in to kiss the temptation he can no longer deny himself. A simple smack, loud enough that you can both hear it, yet the moan that escapes you is positively sinful. High pitched and breathy and immediately obscured, clapping your palm over your mouth to keep yourself quiet.

“Nope,” he simply responds from beneath your nightgown, hand reaching up to remove yours from over your mouth. “What’d I tell you? Half’a the fun is hearing how much you like it.”

One of the thumbs that was rubbing circles into your thigh now does the same on the back of your hand, calloused digit occasionally catching over the surface of your smooth skin. It’s no shock that your hands are soft like your body and your hair and your eyes, it’s what your life was meant to be like the minute you assumed the role of it.�� Soft and easy, no roughness to throw you off track.

Yami chuckles and lets his tongue feel you this time, dragging the wet muscle through your folds, rewarded with another of those breathy moans. You do not rush to cover this one, tilting your head backward and letting your eyes flutter shut to focus on the sensation of another lick. He takes his time to get to know you slowly, brushing the flat of it over your hole and dragging the arousal he receives as a reward upward toward your clit.

He doesn’t release his skills on your sensitive bud so quickly but a simple brush of the side of his tongue against it is enough to make you squeal, shoulders rounding in momentarily. Repeating the motion, you squeal again and arch your back, thrusting your hips forward into his face and dragging every bit of you he can see across his mouth.

“W-what are you doing to me, Yami?” You ask breathlessly, elbows propping you up on the bed and keeping you grounded. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

Your head swims with unfamiliar pressure, sparking a line from your brain to between your legs, all connected and you fight the urge to slump back onto the bed, too curious about the way that the light linen covering the man between your legs shrouds him.

“Eating, obviously,” he mumbles against your body, tongue lapping against your clit. Your body reacts to each touch, thighs tensing on either side of his face, hips slowly bucking in pursuit of the feeling again and again. Your back arches and your moans are staccato babbles, elbows finally failing to hold you up when he gives your clit full attention.. “Oh my, wh–,” your back arches off of the bed before you can finish your thought, another rough lick to your throbbing clit followed by the warmth of his mouth while he sucks it between his lips, flicking the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue.

There is no denying that you may be prissy and perfectly pampered but he was clearly correct in his assumption about you being more than meets the eye. The way your body responds naturally to his ministrations, hips grinding and toes curling and lips keening, tells him every little secret you’re too demure to spill. You want to have sex for enjoyment, to chase your own pleasure and have your own fun.

He’ll never fault someone for that although he believes he can get you to admit it’s the truth. Maybe not tonight but eventually he’ll convince you to drop the “good wife” act. If he weren’t enjoying himself so much he’d grumble about considering a future where the two of you will meet up for this again, too lost in his own enjoyment of your pretty noises to realize how unreasonable this was to begin with.

“Please keep going,” you beg, a tearless sob thickening your voice.

Yami doesn’t look up, well aware of what he is capable of, but he keeps his hand over yours and continues rubbing gentle circles into it. You flip your hand and face your palm upward, loosely tangling your fingers with his, your hips now dragging across his lips wildly. It’s messy and you are dripping like a peak season fruit, drenching his chin and sending little droplets down onto his tank top and chest. Moans increase in pitch when his tongue dips inside of you, lapping at your sweetness and drinking it down with satisfied grunts, though he can tell you’re close solely by how you ride his face alone.

You lack the words to describe how you feel, not that you are a stranger to self pleasure, but it’s different when someone else is showing you the maximum of how you can feel. Every inch of you buzzes with a pleasant awareness, nerve endings sparking like celebratory fireworks, and you lift yourself up with your elbows to glance down at the man making you feel more than you ever thought possible, your nightgown no longer around his head. You were so lost you didn’t even realize he shifted to holding your nightgown up above your belly button with the hand you aren’t keeping occupied, those astute eyes appreciatively watching your chest heave and face twist.

“Yami, I think,” you start and he chuckles, sucking your clit between his lips again, sending you over the edge and effectively making sure you know how exactly it feels when someone else makes you cum.

Dots of light spark in the corners of your vision and you slump down onto the bed, too spent from the strength of your orgasm to remain upright. The perpetrator of your current state untangles your fingers from his wordlessly and he rises to standing, leaning over your exhausted body and propping himself up with his forearm.

“Good as you thought it would be?”

Giggling, you nod. It’s all you can think to do, truly left wordless and thoughtless, grateful that what you read on the pages of the books you hide amongst your more chaste picks were somewhat accurate to how the experience feels. There has been no insinuation that he expects reciprocation so you don’t bring it up, quietly glancing up at him and noticing that the distance between your face and his decreases every few seconds.

“Now taste.”

He closes the little distance left, tongue pressing against the seam of your lips. You grant him entrance and whimper when your mouth fills with the taste of his tongue, a mixture of acrid tobacco and ale and something you could only recognize as yourself.

“Pretty good, right?” All you can do is nod dumbly, still splayed awkwardly across the bed. Should you leave? Should you stay? Is that pesky reciprocation going to come into the conversation now? Yami glances down at you with something you’d almost mistake for warmth in his cool irises, rolling onto his back beside you and folding his arms over his chest. “Are you going to head home now or what?”

You shake your head, letting your flipped up skirt rest against your belly, the air of the room cooling your heated skin. “No but I’m not going to expect you to stay if you have other business to attend to. I will stay the night and leave before sunrise.”

It’s what’s polite. You did pay for an entire night, after all, and your raising will not allow you to be rude. Pushy and precocious at times but never outright disrespectful. The man next to you sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, turning his face to look at you.

Maybe you are as pretty as he originally thought. It could be all the blood rushing from his head to his dick, a problem he is attempting to solve mentally by envisioning anything but the satisfying contractions of your cunt while it cums for him, but you glow even in this low light.

“Only thing I have to do is go downstairs and drink and then I’ll just end up running my mouth and losing money.”

You giggle at his honesty, turning your face to look at him. The gruffness only adds to his aura, as unrefined as a man can be, yet you really do like it. Even if the two of you sit here in silence for the rest of the night, there’s much you feel you can learn by simply gazing at him, a quiet battle of wills unfolding between the two of you like the mist that fills the city on a summer morning.

Permeating, inescapable, potentially trouble.

#yami x reader #captain yami x reader #yami sukehiro x reader #sukehiro yami x reader #black clover x reader #black clover imagines #black clover smut #kendall writes #the bird and the bull

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 11 months ago

Text

Carpe Diem | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: After himself being ditched by Oliver, they meet once again. Both seemingly skirting around what happened in the Common Room when they last saw one another. | Word Count: 5.1k~ (oops) | Warnings below the cut!

Part One: Quid Pro Quo Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici

warnings: virgin michael, oral sex (f receiving), fingering

A/N: I feel...like the word count is overboard but FUCK IT it's my blog 😈

“Greek and Latin both belong to the Indo-European language family, which does not necessarily mean they are similar. The branches are totally different. Whereas Latin belongs to the Romance branch, Greek belongs to the…”

She half-listens to the lecture, caught between Professor Wardon’s monotone ramblings and scribbling whatever bits and pieces she can string together in swirly handwriting, trying to ignore Trevor two rows in front of her, typing loudly on his brand new Macbook that he no doubt got from his well-off parents for Christmas.

Pencil and paper for the peasants, she thinks bitterly.

The laptop she has back in her dorm is clunky, too thick for carrying in her bag, and any notes she makes now will have to be typed up meticulously later. She supposes it’s a good way of getting the information to be irreparably printed into her brain though. That’s the only thing keeping her from going insane.

Which is where she finds herself now, in the wee hours of the morning, her fingers so tired and eyes so strained she feels that all the letters and characters are beginning to merge together.

She's just about to close the damn thing when a notification blares in the bottom right corner of her screen.

‘m_gav_314159265359 is now online’

She presses her lips together to stifle a laugh at the username, it makes her giggle every time. Of course his username is fucking Pi.

After their little ‘happening’ in the Common Room, they'd talked for a bit over MSN, sometimes texting when she had enough credit and even more rarely meeting up at Trinity College campus. Their timetables never seemed to line up very often, so their meetings were quick and over before they could even get settled into really getting to know each other.

It felt strange to have done something so exciting and yet not really know someone.

The memory made her blush. She was never usually that impulsive and brazen. But she didn't regret it.

Everytime Michael saw her, his cheeks flushed almost without her even needing to try. And it felt nice to see someone act like that in her presence.

After lectures had started after Christmas into the New Year and then into Spring, she found herself somewhat self-conscious. Second guessing herself. Wondering if the freedom and calmness of the holiday period had given him a new sense of clarity.

After all, he'd not spoken to her once since lectures had started again.

A heaviness weighed in her chest, bitterly like rejection.

Maybe she was delirious from the time of night, but she felt a surge of courage, desperately wanting to just know if this was going to be more or not.

She felt her cheeks heat somewhat, rubbing the backs of her knuckles against her lips. There was no time to reply before he sent another.

And if what he'd said before didn't make her face burn, that certainly did. She nearly smirked when she thought to herself, 'you mean when I sucked you off in the Common Room?'

But she didn't type that. She decided to have mercy on him, if only a little.

His replies were so blunt and to the point that they were so quintessentially Michael. She found herself wondering if what he'd typed before had been for the intention of making her blush, but she doubted it. He seemed the type to be somewhat oblivious to how words could affect the opposite sex.

Or anything to do with the opposite sex for that matter.

Her stomach fluttered with excitement as she typed off a few quick goodbyes and with a soft, plastic tap, shut her laptop for the night.

“There are no fit guys in my class this semester, fucking livid,” Priya rolls her eyes, nursing a stale pint and a cigarette.

“Did you really expect Modern Languages to be teeming with attractive men?” She smirks in response.

“No. But I at least expected a good shag within the first three months.”

“Does they have to be within our course?”

“No, course not. I'm not lazy as fuck. Can’t be arsed to go off campus.”

She laughs, waving the smoke trail that's formed between their faces, the smell of cigarettes and damp, beer-soaked carpets fill her senses, nursing the only pint she's capable of downing.

“Don't shit where you eat, Priya.”

“Don't you fuckin’ start,” she grins with all her perfect teeth before checking her phone, “fuck, is that the time. Sorry mate you've got like half your pint left-”

“Don't be silly, just go. Whoever you're meeting is bound to have a bigger cock than me anyway.”

“You're a nasty bitch, you know that?” she smiles, standing and pulling her mini-skirt down, “see you later? Catch up?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world. Have fun!”

“Oh I will!”

She smiles, sipping the stale beer as Priya rushes out the door excitedly tapping the keypads on her phone in reply to a guy no-doubt, nearly running right into a lamppost.

She pulled out her own phone, spotting a new message from the ex-boyfriend she hadn’t heard a peep out of since Freshers Week, groaning with a displeased expression at the first few lines of text that read as if he were desperate. Even over the crackling sound of the speakers and Daniel Powter’s ‘Bad Day’ lulling quietly through the pub, she was still sensitive to the sound of his voice.

“-get me another pint please, Oliver? Thanks.”

She had to crane her neck, half-swivelled on her chair, but it was undoubtedly him. Only one person had that hissy, direct way of speaking, had dirty, blonde hair that touched the nape of his neck and was likely to wear such an…interesting selection of clothes.

Her mouth was barely open before she realised it was Michael, and by then he was too far away to shout from across a busy pub. She found herself with a sort of stupid grin, watching him walk with such a lanky gait, as if walking were an inhuman thing for him to do.

It took her a few moments to text back a reply to her ex before she looked up again, eyebrows furrowed when she saw that whoever Michael had been with, was now umming and ahhing about whether to join the popular lot, for which she recognised Felix Catton amongst them, shockingly ill-dressed in a ‘what happens in Kassiopi stays in Kassiopi’ t-shirt, with a cigarette between his lips that had been inhaled to a nub.

She grimaced. Only rich people could dress so fucking shocking.

And then her heart leapt in a different way when she saw Michael look distantly at Oliver, his hand half-raised in an awkward wave, his face crumbling in a way where she knew he was disappointed and yet, not surprised in the slightest.

It was when Michael pushed his glasses up his nose in a way she couldn’t help but find sweet and go for the door, that she slipped from the stool she was on, a quarter of her pint left, and took off after him.

“Michael!”

The late winter air nipped at her skin, cursing internally that his legs were so fucking long he could stride a hell of a lot further than her.

“Michael!”

It wasn’t hard to see the glint of his glasses lenses off the streetlights once he’d turned to face her, his lips parted in surprise and a heat rising to his cheeks.

He swallowed visibly, “H-hey..”

She felt her own heart rattle in her chest at how easy it was to fluster him, “Hey, you alright?”

For a moment, the self-proclaimed mathematical genius seemed genuinely lost for words, his throat closing up on him like he was having a sort of allergic reaction to the opposite sex. So with all that, he simply nodded, his hands clenched as if not knowing what to do with them.

“Sorry about your mate, that was a shitty thing to do.”

“Oh, he’s…he’s not my mate.”

She nodded, rubbing her hands together to warm them from the chill, “d’you wanna go somewhere?”

Michael’s eyes behind his glasses widened, “like…together?”

“No, I’ll make you go off on your own,” she grinned, “yes together!”

He huffed an embarrassed but elated laugh, and only now her eyes studied his shirt, cocking her head in amusement at the ‘that’s how I roll’ shirt with what looked like a maths equation beneath it. The actual meaning was lost on her, but it was so dorky it made her smile.

“U-uh, my mum bought it me for Christmas...” he muttered quickly to which she cracked an even bigger smile, the two of them laughing quietly for a moment before he spoke up again.

“Do you wanna come to mine?” he asked, and it was so direct it made her blink, her lungs feeling as if they were fluttering, “I mean-my dorm.”

She wet her lips from the dry cold, watching how nervous and twitchy he was. And how it reminded her of the last time they were alone together.

“Like…catch up or something. I-I’ve got alcohol if you-”

“That’d be lovely, Michael.”

He at least seemed grateful that she’d actually replied to save him from rambling, and even cracked a thin-lipped smile himself, clearly and delightfully nervous. Thirty-minutes ago, he’d have never considered this to be the ending to his evening.

Michael’s room is disturbingly tidy, she wonders if he actually even lives here. It’s like those university rooms that they take photos of to advertise the ‘spacious’ and ‘community-driven’ atmosphere of campus life.

At least it was clean, she mused as Michael passed her a bottle of the only alcohol he had, which were lukewarm WKDs.

“Thanks,” she smiles, taking a sugary sip and looking about the room. Michael has since cracked open his own drink, but seems disinterested in it as it rests on his bouncing knee, looking up at her from where he’s sat on his desk chair from under his brow.

His laptop sits shut, pencils in a neat line next to it. His walls are bare, with what she can only assume are blue tack marks from the previous tenant’s last year. With the exception of a wall-mounted calendar next to his desk.

“No posters? Was hoping I could be nosy, see what you like.”

When she turns back to Michael he quickly looks down as if not wanting to be caught staring, “It’d just be maths stuff.”

“And Carol Vorderman?” she teases mindlessly, not catching the way his cheeks go alight.

She hums an amused laugh behind the bottle at her lips, “It’s very tidy.”

When he just replies with a shrug, she scoots off the bed to have a roam about the place, needing only a few steps to cross the room to his bookcase, filled to the brim neatly with books. She runs her finger along some of the spines.

“You’re not going to mess anything up are you?”

She laughs, coming out more of a snort, which makes her cheeks warm, “Sorry. Just curious about your books. ‘Mathematics of Language. Sounds like a bit of me and you.”

There’s that flush again.

That deer in the headlights look.

“Uh…just sounded interesting.”

“And is it?”

“Is it what?”

She smirks, “interesting.”

There’s a silence that for a moment neither of them are able to shake.

Michael swallows visibly, “don’t know yet..”

She sees something in his expression when a playful smile lifts across her face, suddenly the memories and implications of what they’d done before now weighing heavily on them. And all at once, he’s able to smell the body scrub she’d used in the shower that morning and eyes flitting to the glint of her stud earrings. He’d remembered brushing past them with his fingers when her mouth wrapped around his-

“And who says you’re not a languages man?” she presses with a teasing lilt to her voice. The tone and sing-songy nature of her voice has his heart doing backflips, feeling as if he could feel the erratic beating between his ribs.

Michael seems stuck in the position he finds himself as she lazily crosses the room, slipping back on his bed, one hand brushing across his bedsheets and the other setting the drink on his bedside table. For a long moment, his eyes couldn’t leave her. The whole situation was suitably extraordinary. A girl who had come onto him (to say the least) was now in his room, sat on his bed, touching his things…all while wearing something he personally deemed unsuitable for the cold, a dress with black tights beneath.

She turns her head to him, smiling, “you seem nervous.”

He swallows, trying to claw at any sort of reply, “is that an accusation?”

It comes out a bit harsher than he probably expected, but instead of recoiling, she bites her lip as if to stifle a full-toothed grin, “an observation.”

He shrugs, “just never had a girl in here before.”

“Worried I’ll mess up your feng shui?”

“My what?”

She genuinely laughs at that, nearly smacking her head on the bed frame, but a hearty chuckle all the same. And Michael doesn’t know why his own cheeks start to heat up at that, taking this opportunity that her eyes are shut to look down at her legs. For some reason, making her laugh just makes him want to try more.

He’s never had that feeling before. Wanting to make someone laugh.

“No, really, my what.”

She meets his eyes brightly with her own, “feng shui, it’s like…the vibe of a room, a space. Like, how you place your furniture or whatever.”

Michael raises a brow, his lip quirking on one side, “sounds like bullshit.”

“It probably is.” she laughs.

“Can I ask you something?”

The quick u-turn and tone in conversation has her eyes meet his nervously, her interest and curiosity piqued. Her hands find themselves nervously stroking her legs, the texture of the tights providing some level of comfort, “yeah sure.”

She can't quite figure out what expression he's trying to put on. His brows are furrowed in judgement and a curious sense of guarding himself. And yet he's sat back in his seat, looking at her like he is trying to figure her out, and yet wants to know why she is the way she is.

“Why did you do that?”

She blinks at the accusatory and monotone rhythm of his way of speaking.

“Do what.”

“Don't play stupid. Doesn't suit you.”

She nearly scoffs at that, “what? Why have you gone all weird all of a sudden?”

“Why did you do…that at the Christmas party?”

She shrugs and shakes her head, as if the answer should be obvious, “because I wanted to? And you didn't seem to mind either.”

“I didn't-that's not the point!” he retorts, “are you genuinely taking the mick out of me?”

“You've asked that before and no.”

“Well why then?”

“Is it not enough to really think that I find you interesting? And nice to talk to?”

Of all the things she expected Michael Gavey to go quiet at, it certainly wasn't that. But she watches him all the same, the line between his brow slowly disappearing as his frown vanishes.

She cocks her head, “and not bad looking either.”

“Stop it.”

“I mean it!”

“Nobody wants the fucking maths virgin-”

“Michael. I don't give a fuck about that,” she says calmly, “Hell, I was a virgin not that long ago. You keep saying ‘nobody wants the virgin’ but you can't keep using that as an excuse just because you're embarrassed you haven't done anything.”

He sighs, like he doesn't want to believe her. And she can hardly believe how self-deprecating and yet direct this man can be in a single breath.

“Look, if you don't want to talk to me, I can always go-”

Almost as soon as she is stood, he is too, one large hand wrapped around her forearm, “No.”

They've been sat so long, she had almost forgotten how tall he was, and the difference between them briefly has her tummy doing back flips. From here, she is able to smell whatever body wash he uses, and if she had to guess, probably blue radox.

“No, I didn't say I wanted you to go. Stay…”

He doesn't say ‘please’ once, and yet she's able to hear the desperation.

When she doesn't move, his grip loosens, and she feels tingly all over when his hand slides up her arm.

“Can I kiss you again like last time?”

She almost smiles in adoration at how he asks it, but for the sake of saving him the embarrassment of thinking she's laughing at him, settles for a simple and gentle nod of her head. She is sure she's not really thought it through. Weighing up the pros and cons isn't exactly the first thing on her mind right now though as Michael has to bend significantly to crash his lips to hers.

Much like last time, he is a bit endearingly clumsy, his lips moving quickly on hers like he's running a race with his mouth. This time there is no pool table for him to cage her against, but all the same his legs take him forwards until her knees hit the edge of his bed.

By the time he is on top of her, she's managed to weave her fingers through his hair, her nose nudging against his glasses every now and then, and guiding him with her own movements to slow down and enjoy the moment, with no need to rush.

She knows that secretly he's probably just excited.

But this time, his hands are extremely active.

She's unable to help the breathy whimper between desperate kisses as he tentatively squeezes her thighs, not quite brave enough to go beneath the dress yet and drifting upwards to her breasts, touching and clutching fondly, as if any harsh grip or movement and she'll get up and leave.

He's still unsure, maybe even nervous, she can feel it.

It's here she realises that whether he is doing it subconsciously or not, she can feel the strained bulge at the front of his trousers rubbing up against the inside of her leg, probably chasing friction that feels too good for him to feel lucid.

“Can I see you…” he asks as his lips break away.

She doesn't even reply, she just complies, pulling the sleeves of her dress over her shoulders and the bra straps along with it. The position she's in making it near impossible to reach behind her.

If she could print his face in her mind as she pulled her dress down to her ribs, she would. He looks entirely mesmerised in adoration, and once the only thing covering her breasts is the thin material of her bra, Michael looks at her with an almost dream-like gaze.

His hand moves before his mouth, or at least before he catches himself, “Is it oka-”

“Course..” she says far too quickly.

All she can hear as Michael pulls the thin straps of her bra fully down her arms, exposing her breasts, is his breath, staggered and uneven. His hand easily covers one of her breasts, squeezing experimentally, his thumb gently drifting over her nipple and watching them stiffen to needy buds.

She doesn’t need to look between them to see how hard he is, she can feel him against her thigh, where her dress has since ridden up to her hips.

His glasses knock against her chest as he leans down, all-too-carefully covering her nipple with his tongue, like he is trying to print the taste of them to memory.

There is an unconscious desire to press her thighs together, but she settles for rolling her hips, causing Michael’s voice to rumble against her chest where he mouths at her breasts. One hand forever stays at the one he isn’t paying lip service to, testing the weight and shape in his palms.

It feels like all sensitivity has been turned up to 1000. He is so slow, so unsure, that every languid movement has every nerve feel as if it’s on fire. A selfish part of her wants him to go faster, so used to the fervent, almost rushing nature of who she’d been with before. It was never like this, borderline worshipping.

“Michael…” she breathes, rolling her hips against him experimentally, rewarded with a low whine from him.

She watched as her nipple slips from his lips in the most erotic manner she’d ever seen, before his clear eyes are on her again.

“Is this okay? Am I doing something wr-”

“No,” she shakes her head quickly, “feels nice.”

Michael licks his lips, a sign of how nervous he is, “Can I do something else?”

He is so eager to please, to learn, that looking at his face as he asks she can hardly deny him. And her head moves without effort, nodding as she watches his hand disappear beneath the hem of her dress to pull her tights down her legs.

It then becomes obvious what he wants to do.

“Are you sure, I-”

“I’m sure.” he adds, rolling the black nylon down her legs until all that is left between Michael and her bare skin below her hips, is her underwear. A flush of embarrassment engulfs her face at the thought of how aroused she might be, knowing he has no experience, she doesn’t want to scare him off. The tender and yet needy way he’d mouthed at her breasts had her body all warm, and she can’t remember the last time she’d been this ready for anything.

“I just want to do the same for you as you did for me. Make you feel good.”

And that certainly doesn’t help that feeling either.

She’s not sure if she will get tired of the sight of his long, lithe fingers gripping her thighs apart, and for a moment she finds herself entranced by the view, until he is pressing sweet kisses to the inside of them. Open-mouthed, with an addictive cooling sensation when he pulls away, only to edge closer to the centre of her underwear.

Her breath remains stuck in her chest as she watches him navigate the female body, mapping it out in his head. She knows better than to say anything, knowing him as she does now, he is immensely competitive, and wants to get things right. It’s likely if she stepped in to instruct him, it would only embarrass him more. So she stays quiet, and lets him come to her.

His thumb dips beneath the leg hole of her underwear, “Can I?”

She swallows visibly, now for some reason it’s her being the nervous one. Possibly because the first time, it was her doing something for him. And now, it is very much the feeling of being studied, of being watched to see what made her tick. A feeling that has her desperate for some kind of fulfilment. Anything.

She lifts her hips to help him slide her underwear down her legs, her cheeks warming at being so utterly exposed to him herself for the first time. There is a finality to it that she just can’t quite put into words. A point of no return.

A full body shudder made its way through her when she felt his thumb trail across the spot where her leg met her hip, trailing the line there that led to her sensitive womanhood.

Michael looked as if he was being presented with an equation, she could practically hear the thoughts in his head. But beyond not entirely knowing what to do, it didn't dissuade his curiosity.

She could tell though, that he didn't know what to do.

Michael nearly flinched when she took his hand, encouraging his thumb to touch her bundle nerves hidden between her folds.

She watched him as his thumb cautiously collected the wetness that had begun to come out of her and used it to gently apply pressure to her clit. Breath was hot in her chest as he started slowly.

“Does that feel good?” He asked softly.

As soon as she nodded, confirming how pleasurable it was, Michael's first reaction was to go faster. And so he did. Like he was trying to light a fire.

“No, no, no, it's fine to go slow.”

“Shit, sorry…”

“It’s fine,” she smiled, “just more gentle.”

The panic on his face had been clear. But at her gentle instruction, she saw him relax, taking her words and applying gentle pressure in slower, tighter circles. And it seemed Michael was now fully aware of its intended effect, as his eyes were able to lift up to hers underneath the rim of his glasses to see her breathing had increased, and blood rushing to her cheeks.

It felt incredible to watch his expressions, she thought. Seeing the little thoughts rattling around in his head, to be able to awaken something in him for the first time. But it also felt utterly exposing, and every time his thumb drew circles against her clit, she heard the soft click of her arousal that made the room feel as if she were inside an oven.

Michael’s lips parted, his head moving as if pulled by an invisible string to her core.

“Can I…?” he asked again, but more uncertain this time.

The anticipation gnaws so much at her skin, combined with the way he is taking his time that she has become somewhat impatient, so it’s completely involuntary when she nods her head and somehow manages a whispered ‘yes’.

She doesn't really, really know what's wrong with her. She's had head before. But when he dives between her thighs so quickly and eagerly, his thumbs almost pulling her skin gently to expose as much of her as he can, and swiping his tongue over the centre. From her entrance, all the way to her bundle of nerves.

It has her breath stuck in her chest, instinctively reaching down to run her fingers through his sandy hair. Even the slightest tug on it has a low groan vibrating through her where his mouth moves slowly against her.

“Michael…”

At first he is careful, taking the instruction she'd given him before and applying it to tasting her instead. But his eyes flit up to her when she breathes his name like that, so he redoubles his efforts, gripping the underside of her thighs to tug her towards him in a teasing rhythm.

She didn't really know what to expect, assuming he hadn't done anything like this before. But Michael seems eager to please, as he nudges between her sensitive folds to tease her entrance with his tongue, the sharp shape of his nose butting against her bud with every movement, as little as it is.

With one hand in his hair, her hips move against his face, the glasses perched on his face hanging askew. And all she can see is that his eyes are closed as he tastes her, every now and then he makes a noise between a whine and a moan, as if he didn't want the experience to end.

Dragging his tongue back up to her bud to focus his attention there, Michael experimentally slides one long, slender digit easily inside her, pleased at the breathy sound it seems to elicit from her. Two feelings at once, just as she'd given him before.

“Oh, shit-”

He fights the urge to smirk when he hears that. She's so warm and wet, that it's easy to slide in the second, feeling her walls suck him in as they clamp around his fingers moving in and out of her. It's a feeling he couldn't describe if he tried, and he daren't think of what she'd feel like around his cock, or if she'd let him.

She can feel her stomach muscles tightening, an orgasm bubbling up to the surface when he gains confidence, flicking her swollen clit with his tongue and pistoning two fingers with a pornographically wet smack into her over and over. Brushing that sweet spot inside that he manages to find sometimes, seemingly without realising.

“Michael - fuck - I'm gonna-”

He groans as her fingers tug at his hair, her hips grinding herself against him and chasing that delicious friction as her high barrels through her, sparking pleasure down each notch of her spine until it fizzles out through her limbs.

She can feel Michael grinding himself against the bed, searching for his own, as he maintains his actions, lapping up everything she gives him with determination. When she dares to look down at him, as if he can sense it, his eyes open to watch her expression, the blue of his eyes nearly entirely eclipsed by black.

As if something had been awoken in him that even he couldn't recognise he'd wanted.

With one last swipe of his tongue over her centre, Michael withdraws his fingers, gripping her thigh with them and making the skin there glisten.

Her cheeks feel as if they're on fire when he rights himself to his knees before her, looking down at her with admiration at how she is still essentially half naked. The tightness at the front of his jeans makes it obvious how he felt about what he'd just done.

Engrossed by watching her breasts move as she breathes heavily, the slight shimmer of sweat on her collarbones, Michael raises his hand to his face, using his palm to wipe her slick from his lips and chin.

She breaks the silence with a tired laugh when he pushes his glasses back up his face, one half of the lenses completely fogged up. It prompts him to laugh too.

“Was I okay?”

This time she doesn't hold back her smile at the way he asks it. As if she hadn't just shaken with the force of her high all over his face.

She nods, “More than okay.”

He seems genuinely relieved.

She bites her lip as she looks at him, his cheeks all tinged pink, his mind reeling at what they'd just done.

He doesn't know what to say or do, and she can see it.

“Do you fancy having a girlfriend, Michael?” she asks.

“Uh…I've never had one, not properly anyway.”

“Yes, but would you like one?”

She watches the bob of his Adam's Apple as he swallows heavily, “Y-yeah…”

She pushes herself up to meet him where he's knelt, admiring his features for a moment, before leaning forward to kiss him, encouraging him to kiss her back. It takes a second for him to respond, but when he does, it's needy, teeth and tongues clashing as the musky taste of her is captured on him.

“Tell you what, after your exams, when you can relax, I'll be your proper girlfriend. In every way..”

His breath comes out shuddered against her lips, “what do you mean?..”

She wets her lips as she smirks, “I think you know exactly what I mean, Michael.”

She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of seeing him blushed and bothered.

And when they're both dressed, sharing awkward giggles and nervous kisses, she gives him a look with a cock of her head as he checks his wall-mounted Countdown-themed calendar.

“What you looking for?”

“My last exam is the 15th. There's exactly 12,246 minutes between now and then and all I'm going to be thinking about is whether you'll really be my girlfriend or not.”

She nearly smiles at the fact he does the maths so quickly. 8 days, 12 hours and 6 minutes until his last exam. And even though she's made it clear she wants him, he's still unsure.

She meets his gaze, unable to hide the grin off her face, “Better get studying then. You've only got 12,245 minutes left until you've got me.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian@randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya@urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy

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fatliberation · 1 year ago

Note

If its ok to ask; how do you feel about fat kinks? I havent seen any fat acceptance blogs talk abt it. /genq

I know it's a sore spot for a lot of fat liberationists (and yes, I'm quite familiar with why so please do not take to my inbox), I think people are scared to talk about it. personally, I think it is crucial that people with fat kinks are able to access fat liberation spaces so long as they leave the kink at the door. I say this not only because the majority of them are fat people, but because that community is steeped in a deep shame and feeling of brokenness for taking delight in fatness and/or weight gain, which perpetuates rampant fatphobia. and fat liberation is what will heal those wounds. I don't understand it when fat activists tell kinksters/fetishists/feedists, whatever you want to call them to stay out of the fat liberation movement. because what is the alternative? do you want them against the movement? that doesn't make sense at all. I think people are so uncomfortable, disgusted, or afraid of this community they don't understand, that they just wish they wouldn't exist. they aren't going away. kink is akin to sexuality, to identity, to queerness. I think what people really mean when they say feedists should stay out of fat lib is, "kink should stay within spaces designated for kink." we aren't talking about kink when it comes to who can belong in a movement, we are talking about people. it is wrong to equate every person who has a kink or a fetish to a predator. it causes very real harm to those people, because they internalize that message that their kink makes them a bad person who is inherently worthless, who has to hide. if feedists aren't welcome in fat liberation, they aren't welcome anywhere.

I think that people who love fat people, love feeding people, love their own fat bodies, who see their fattest selves as their most satisfying selves, would be natural allies to this movement once they find their way to it and feel safe and accepted here. I want to make it absolutely clear that ANYONE is welcome on this blog as long as they aren't harassing or harming anyone. so many of my followers and biggest supporters are kink blogs. some of my closest friends and fat liberationist allies are feedists. I know feedists who are way more educated and passionate about fat lib and body politics than most people I've met. I don’t wish for anyone to feel alienated on my blog - especially fellow fat folks and fellow fat allies. we are 100% FAT POSITIVE AND SEX POSITIVE on this blog, babey‼️

In fact I feel really glad when I see fat kink/feedism blogs engaging with my content bc it means that person is putting the work in to understand systemic fatphobia, how to be an ally to fat people (if they aren't fat themselves), but also healing their community through education and acceptance. and HOT TAKE, BUT: when it does happen?? when feedists aren't shrouded in internalized fatphobia, shame, and isolation, and instead start embracing this innate, powerful appreciation for fatness, it's literally so fucking beautiful? and so very queer?

choosing to gain weight on purpose as an act of self creation. because it feels Right for you. gaining weight to affirm the relationship you have with your body. getting fatter because you feel so much of your identity (even gender presentation!) is attached to your fat body. feeling sexiest when you're fat. someone else worshipping that about you. giving unlimited permission to nourish yourself and/or others - and taking carnal delight in it. releasing food rules and food guilt through centering pleasure. food and fatness as an erotic and sensory experience. finding feedist partners who also have this ingrained love of fatness that can't be replicated, partners who are willing and eager to support and adore your fat body, NOT merely tolerate it. reclaiming tropes used against you through kink, and turning a loving gaze inward. saying "fuck you" to the system and choosing to take up more space in a world that consistently tries to shrink you. never denying yourself pleasure even though everyone is telling you you don't deserve it. feedism is such an interesting facet of the endless spectrum of human sexuality and I think that once people in that community find liberation and heal their relationship to the kink, it can be one of the most radical forms of self acceptance and exercising complete bodily autonomy.

I already know that a love letter to feedism coming from a fat lib blog is gonna piss people off. I'm going to lose a lot of followers, I'm going to get a lot of hate. but. kink in general is SO demonized and SO misunderstood and as liberationists we should also be open to sexual liberation. so much of this discomfort around feedism comes from a lack of education and understanding about kink in general. feedism doesn't = fatphobia in the same way that bdsm doesn't = misogyny or abuse. quite the contrary, if practiced ethically, with informed consent. every community has assholes. especially when those communities are small, ostracized, and so young that there are next to zero resources for self acceptance, safety, education, and accountability. in fact, the assholes are the ones that you're going to SEE because every respectful person is staying away and out of your business. if you've been harassed by someone with a fat kink, that is so shitty and I'm sorry that happened to you. I know it happens a lot. try to remember that what you experienced was abuse, not kink.

what consenting individuals choose to do with their bodies is entirely their business and there is nothing wrong with kink. (and I will not stand for sex-negative, puritan bullshit in my inbox, thank you very much.)

reminder: fat pleasure is fat liberation.

#inbox

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penkura · 4 months ago

Text

where you belong [3/10]

Summary: As Luffy's big sister, you've viewed it to be your job to see him become King of the Pirates in place of your absent parents, even as you try to find where it is you belong in the world. You never really expected to draw the attention of Trafalgar Law in the process.

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Fem!reader

Warnings: Discussion of feelings of abandonment, age gap relationship (four years), brief secret relationship, mentions and heavy refences to sex, mentions of alcohol, typical One Piece stuff. Other warnings to be added if needed.

Note: Hahaha almost 7.3k words, I'm so sorry. I almost completely removed this chapter, but I wanted to do a little bit more showing Law and Reader's relationship. :) If you'd like a song to listen to as you read, Clock Strikes by One OK Rock is what I was listening to as I wrote parts of this. 💚

Taglist:

[Ch. 1] ● [Ch. 2]

Law takes his time telling you about his childhood and time with Corazon. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you, especially knowing how you react when Ace is brought up, he’s not sure he can deal with you crying over the things that have happened to him. He also needs the time to work out his own feelings, trying to keep from choking up himself when he remembers everything, even though when it happens you quietly take his hand to try and provide some comfort, like he's done for you.

He never shakes your hand off his, just pushes down the pain and tears and keeps talking to you.

He starts by telling you about his family and life in Flevance. His mother and father, how wonderful and brilliant they were, how much they loved him. His little sister Lami, who adored him more than anything in the world, she always wanted him to join her during the festivals in Flevance. He loved his family more than anything, they meant the world to him back then. You smile when he tells you about the first time his parents let him take Lami to get ice cream, by themselves, and how she dropped hers, so he had to share with her.

While he doesn’t remember too much, he does tell you about his friends from the church nearby. They’d all been classmates too, spending their days going through normal classes and sometimes the boys, Law included, would catch frogs to dissect and gross out the girls. He remembers all the festivals, the neighbors he’d pass by every day, the old lady next door that always tried to get him to eat bread for some reason.

Law tries to make it easy for you, the first day is only about his family and friends. Nothing about the destruction of Flevance yet, he takes a bit to get there, and it affects him just like it does you, it still does to this day.

He really does try to keep his emotions in check, but once he begins to remember how it felt to see Lami sick with the white lead disease, he starts to struggle with keeping his voice steady.

“I…I was horrified when we realized she was sick,” Law has to stop and take a breath, swallowing down the tears he feels trying to slip out, “I didn’t want to watch her die.”

Nodding, you don’t say anything, you don’t want to interrupt his thoughts as he works them out and how to voice them. You just grip his hand a little tighter, which Law returns before he continues, reliving when his home was destroyed by the World Government.

“I left the hospital after I found my parents were dead, I was going to find the nun who had told me some Marines were going to sneak us kids out, so we could get Lami and go,” you can already tell where this is going, while Law grits his teeth remembering everything as vividly as he does, “She had been killed too, all my friends from the church…the hospital was burned down with…with Lami still inside…”

“Law…I’m so sorry…”

“I escaped in a mass of corpses, I had to get out somehow. That was the only way. I, eventually, I found Doflamino and his crew, and worked to join them when I was ten.”

Both of you quiet, you’re trying to take everything in, and Law is trying to get past his feelings again, he hates talking about all of this. Every time someone new joins his crew, he waits a while to make sure they’re trustworthy before he tells them anything.

But he believed you should know, even though you aren’t staying forever, and now you’re slowly learning everything.

You know when he’s done talking for the time being once he becomes quiet, you’ve noticed that about him over the last several months, allowing you to hug him though he doesn’t return it. He does appreciate it though, you don’t ask him to tell you more than what he’s ready to, taking it all at the pace Law sets for this.

“It’s getting late,” you hadn’t even notice until Law brings it up, but it is starting to look dark outside, “Everyone will be back for dinner soon.”

Law can’t help the slight smile that comes to his face when you sniffle a bit and nod, rubbing at your eyes with your sleeve. He didn’t fully expect you to start crying but he’s also not surprised, he figures it must bring out your own feelings of protectiveness and sibling love towards Luffy. Once he stands, Law holds his hand out to help you up which you gladly take, but you pull him into another hug that, this time, he gently returns.

“Thank you, again, for trusting me…”

“I hope you won’t betray that.”

“I would never!”

Law laughs a bit at your shocked expression, while you smile and kiss his cheek, something you’d started doing more recently. He’s gotten more used to it; it doesn’t affect him the same way it did the first time. He likes it, but tries to make sure none of his crew are around to see it, to avoid any kind of teasing that may come from it.

“See you at dinner, Law!”

“Mm-hm.”

Watching you leave before going back to his desk, Law thinks that went better than he could have expected. He expected more tears from you than he got, but he’s glad he didn’t have to spend several minutes calming you down before you left. He has to take some time to relax himself after dredging up those memories, but maybe next time he’ll tell you some happier ones he remembers, not just about his family but about Cora-san too.

Before he even has the chance to tell you about his time with Corazon, Law is hit with several nightmares, all flashbacks to that night, something he never expected to happen. He believed he’d gotten past it all, but it seems the thought of telling you everything was causing it all to resurface and disturb his sleep (not like he gets much anyway).

He's good at hiding it though, you don’t question the dark circles under his eyes, even if they look darker to you lately. He tells you it’s nothing when you ask, convinced that’s enough for you even though you give him a skeptical look before going on your way. Law thinks you’re going to let it go, he can take care of himself. He’s handled this before on his own, before his crew came to be and he had friends to help him.

He can handle it again, he swears he can.

But it gets worse, especially after Law does tell you about Corazon, everything they went through to save him, and how his savior died to protect him. It keeps you up some nights afterwards, thinking about it all more than you should, and you know that wasn’t Law’s intention. He wasn’t trying to upset you or garner sympathy, it was simply his life story, and he felt like you needed to know. Like he wants you to understand why he’s started the plans he has, with stealing the hearts of other pirates to become a Warlord, the rest of his plans he won’t tell you about for whatever reason.

It probably would be strange to outsiders, but you’re surprisingly okay with it all. You aren’t a permanent member of the Heart Pirates, you don’t need to know all the details.

Still though, you feel like something is off, not with you but with Law and how you two are now. You’ve noticed how tired he is lately, he almost seems to doze off during the crew meetings he lets you in on, at least until someone says his name and it wakes him enough. He still seems to yawn more than normal, it’s what led you to be standing in front of his office door so late tonight, you want to make sure he’s doing okay or see if he needs anything. You feel nervous and you’re not sure why, while you quietly knock on the door and wait to hear if Law calls you in.

When he doesn’t, you open the door and call for him.

“Law? I was going to make some tea and was wondering if you want any…”

You don’t get a response since he’s asleep at his desk, your first thought being that at least he’s sleeping. You’re glad to know that until you realize it is not a peaceful sleep and he seems to be having a nightmare from the distressed look on his face.

Oh that makes so much sense.

You had hoped it was just the stress of everything going on that was keeping Law from sleeping, not that he was having his sleep disturbed by nightmares. Of what, you don’t know yet, but you feel the need to wake him.

“Law? Hey,” you’re quiet as you set your hand on his shoulder, hoping that wakes him, “Law, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

It does work to wake him, but also startles Law to the point he nearly knocks himself out of his chair when he wakes and sits up, eyes wide when he looks at you but not really, you know he’s still waking up.

You mostly know that when he barely whispers ‘Cora-san’ and it makes you realize what he’s been suffering from in his sleep. The memories have come back fiercely and it makes your heart ache for him knowing everything he’s gone through.

You’ve suffered worse than you let on.

Once his eyes focus and Law sees it’s you with him, he worries he’s let things slip about the nightmare, especially when he sees how concerned you look.

“What…[Y/N]-ya, what…what time—”

“It’s after midnight. I was checking to see if you wanted tea but,” he doesn’t say anything but you watch him as he rubs at his eyes with his sleeve, you wonder briefly if it’s sleep or tears he's trying to get rid of, “I noticed you weren’t sleeping well…are you okay?”

No I’m not.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?”

Law nods, waving your hand off his shoulder before turning back to his desk.

“I am.”

He’s certain you don’t believe him, based on the face you make as you nod, before shaking your head.

“You don’t really expect me to just accept that answer, do you?”

I wish you would.

Before he even responds, you take his hand and pull him up out of his chair, which also surprises him though he is still waking up fully

He doesn’t even fight when you start to drag him towards his bedroom, or when you get him in there and tell him to change for bed, you’re going to go make some tea for the two of you real quick.

While he does get ready for bed, he doesn’t expect you to stay long after you return with the drinks. He fully expects you to hand his over and leave, going back to your room to sleep, not for you to climb into his bed beside him and give him a smile like you’re wanting to talk before going to sleep. Law just stares at you for a moment, before he speaks.

“Do you want to talk about something…?”

“Hmm? Oh, um! Well, I…was going to stay with you tonight.”

“…why?”

You become quiet, Law halfway expects you to decide to leave, telling him goodnight before doing so. You don’t need to stay, he’s fine on his own. He’ll get over the nightmares again soon, he’s sure of that.

“I have nightmares too…about Ace…”

He really shouldn’t be as surprised as he is, but he never thought you’d be struggling like this too. With the fears that come from having witnessed such tragedy and the resulting pain, perhaps he should’ve expected that though. After all the times he’s held you through your breakdowns over Ace’s death, he should’ve known you’d be having nightmares too. But you’ve hid it so well, you’ve handled things all on your own once again, just like he has.

Maybe it’s time we both accept some help.

“Sometimes I…,” you bite your lip before shaking your head, “The nightmares, are about if you hadn’t saved Luffy. So…let me help you tonight, Law…just for a bit?”

“…okay…”

Law isn’t sure how long you two stay awake that night talking, all he knows is that, eventually, he wakes up to someone knocking heavily on his door but he’s not able to move at first. You’ve got his head held against your chest, still fast asleep yourself, no signs of waking but he’s nearly frozen in place when he realizes what’s going on. It takes a moment or two for Law to decide what to do, internally yelling at himself about how on earth this happened and how does he get out of this without someone thinking something scandalous is going on.

He's lucky enough that you release him and roll over in your sleep, he doesn’t have to figure out how to get out of your arms on his own. Now it’s a matter of getting out of his bed without waking you, he doesn’t want to interrupt your own sleep. The knocking stops eventually, Law hears someone mumble to themselves, they’ll probably come back later but he’s got to get out of bed now. He has a chance to get out before you wake or someone catches you in his bed. He quickly slips out, grabs some clothes and goes to his bathroom to change, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh.

This…isn’t going to be good in the long run is it?

Law isn’t looking forward to having to wake you when he goes back to his room, but he’s lucky enough that you’re gone by the time he gets back. You definitely woke up and had the same thought he did, sneaking yourself out quickly without making any noise. When you see him again at breakfast, you don’t say anything but give Law a smile that he returns with a nod.

No one else knows or finds out, much to the relief of you both, and Ikkaku doesn’t question where you’d been the night before.

While he hates to admit that he did need someone that night, Law can’t deny the fact he’d slept better with you there than he had in months.

+!+

A few weeks later, the Heart Pirates are throwing a party for their captain. Law’s birthday has come around and while he’d tried to tell him no party they still threw one together, even dragging you into the planning though you didn’t need to be asked to help really. When you heard it was his birthday, you were happy to help, having a couple of gifts put away for him as a thank you for all the help he’s given you the last year and a half or so. It's not a lot, just two small things you think he’ll appreciate, even with Ikkaku and Uni telling you he's going to love both gifts, it's hard to think that much about them.

Law, although he said no parties, is not one to deny his crew a night of rest and relaxation. He does try to stay in his office most of the evening, but Penguin and Shachi are able to drag him out long enough to have a drink and let everyone wish him a happy birthday. He’s truly grateful for all of them, thanking his crew with a slight smile. He ends up settling beside you for a bit after Shachi hands him a drink, not pushing you off when you lean against his arm and give him a smile.

“Happy birthday, Law.”

“Mm, thanks.”

While you take a sip of your own drink, Ikkaku catches your eye and gives you a wink, which makes you roll your eyes before Law sets his hand on your shoulder, nodding for you to follow him out of the common area up on deck. Ikkaku makes sure to pass you the wrapped gifts you have for Law when you walk by her, it makes you nervous to keep them behind your back when you both sit on the deck to relax away from everyone. You can still hear them shouting and laughing, a few already a little wasted but it makes you and Law smile.

“You crew loves you a lot.”

“Yeah,” Nodding, Law takes a sip from his drink before setting it down, “I love them a lot too…what’d Ikkaku hand to you?”

“…how the—”

“I’m not blind, you know,” his smirk only makes you pout, as you take the items out from behind you, “Neither of you are good at hiding things.”

“Fine,” you sigh heavily as a joke, but still smile as you hold the wrapped items out to him, “A gift for you.”

Law quiets as he stares at the gifts you have in your hands, before he finally takes them from you. The happy yet nervous smile you have tells him you weren’t really ready to give these to him, but Ikkaku seems to have forced your hand. You don’t seem mad about it though.

“…you really didn’t have to get me anything, I wouldn’t have been offended.”

You shrug a little, knowing it’s really not much, but it still makes you smile to see Law just a bit flustered by it. He obviously wasn’t expecting anything from you, but of course you surprise him once again. It seems like almost everything you do lately endears you to him even more than before.

What a mess we’re creating.

“I know but, I wanted to. As a birthday gift and to thank you for everything,” you watch while he starts to open the smaller gift, heart rate picking up out of anxiety, you’ve never felt so anxious giving someone a gift before, “It’s really not a lot, I just…I thought you’d like these…”

Law isn’t at all surprised to find a coin in the small box, he figured that must’ve been it, he’s so familiar with that size of box and the small sound it made when he picked it up. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s from Foosha Village, your hometown, it has to be one you’d brought with you as a keepsake. The port engraved on one side and the Goa Kingdom on the other, he can pick out the tiniest manufacturing errors and possible imprints on the small coin. It’s special though, he didn’t have one from there in his collection yet and you’ve added to it, how kind of you. He knows if you wanted to, Luffy would take your whole crew back to your home for a visit and you’d pick up another coin or two, you likely aren’t worried about giving one up.

Seeing his face light up a bit at it as he thanks you makes you smile softly, at least until he goes to open the other wrapped gift. You bite your lip out of worry and fidget a bit, not a single thing going unnoticed by Law who almost asks what’s wrong but realizes you’re just nervous for whatever reason. There’s nothing to be nervous about in his mind, until he sees what else you’ve given him, and it causes him to freeze up, which leads to you defending your gift to him.

“I…I found it in a bookstore on the last island…the shopkeeper didn’t want to sell it to me, but I was able to sneak it into my bag and get it out of there. I remembered everything you told me and…I just…”

It's a book about Flevance, the country’s history and culture, everything about the white lead export, the festivals they held, the little bit that was assumed about white lead disease itself. All of it there in his hands now, he didn’t know such a book existed. He would’ve thought any and all traces of Flevance had been destroyed by the World Government, including books detailing the country itself. But they missed one, the one you’d been lucky enough to find and steal from the bookstore, that you thought you should give to him so he had a piece of his home again.

When he doesn’t say anything for several minutes, you start to bite your lip, wondering if you’ve made a mistake. He flips through the book quietly, not making known what he thinks at all.

“I—”

“That’s my sister and I.”

Law finally speaks up again, having stopped on a page for longer than you noticed, pointing out one of the pictures printed on it. You lean in just enough to look, smiling at the picture he’s showing you. The boy is obviously Law, he has the same grin you’ve rarely seen, and the girl has her brown hair tied into small pigtails, smiling just as widely next to him. You hadn’t really read too much of it, just getting an idea of what Law’s hometown was like, but that picture makes you realize how happy he was back then.

“She’s cute.”

“I think,” he interrupts your thoughts and makes you look at him again, “that was during a summer festival. Lami would’ve been four, I remember buying her ice cream and playing a game to win her a stuffed rabbit…she didn’t let go of it for months.”

“She looks like you.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Law scoffs, but chuckles a bit, flipping to another page, “I forgot a reporter had taken our picture then…these are my parents….”

It's another picture from the festival, but this time just his parents are shown, probably having been nearby to make sure their children didn’t wander off. Now you see why he said Lami didn’t look like him, she was a carbon copy of their mom. You never would have guessed those pictures were in that book, or that Law remembered when they were taken.

“…you look just like your dad.”

Nodding, Law closes the book and sets it to the side. He’ll read it fully later, those pictures and the small flip through he’s done are enough for tonight. He has to push those emotions down for now and doesn’t push you away when you give him a hug that he quietly returns, thanking you.

Neither of you moves or says anything for a while, before you look up at Law and speak.

“Hey, Law?”

“Hmm?”

“…tell me that I haven’t misread all of this.”

Law is stunned into complete silence, more frozen than he was earlier, when you lean up just enough to press the softest kiss to his lips, it’s almost like it doesn’t happen but he knows it does. You’ve actually kissed him, his feelings aren’t unrequited after all! The fact you think you’ve misread everything he's said and done the last few months, he just wants to sit and tell you everything now. How he’s been stressed about telling you, he wasn’t sure you really felt the same.

But now he is! The confirmation he’s been looking for despite the fact he was already certain you felt the same. With the way you’ve spent so much of your free time together he should’ve realized it sooner, how everything just led you both to each other every time. Its unreal that this is happening, that you’ve taken that first step to change your relationship with him. He really did think it would never happen, you’d both be forever pining, or the feelings would fade.

Honestly Law’s relieved you decided to take the chance, he wasn’t sure how or when to do it himself. He’s not used to this, what should he even be doing now?

Maybe he should be kissing you back, Law realizes a moment later, when you pull away just enough for him to see the disappointed almost sad look on your face. He’d gotten so caught in his thoughts that you must think he doesn’t feel the same, all because he was so distracted he didn’t think to return your kiss.

“Sorry,” Oh you sound so sad, it nearly breaks his heart to hear your voice, to see you looking away from him, “I…I shouldn’t ha—”

“Don’t,” Law nearly whispers it, moving both hands to hold your face and makes you look at him, “Don’t apologize.”

A barely audible ‘okay’ is your response before Law properly returns your first kiss, letting you slip your arms around his neck while he moves one hand to your waist to bring you a little closer to him. He knows this could be a misstep, that you may come to him in the morning and say you’d drank too much, that it shouldn’t have happened. But for now, he’s going to ignore the thoughts that tell him to stop. That he can’t be doing this, you’re a rival captain’s older sister, it’s not going to work out no matter how much he hopes it does. It doesn’t matter to him, not right now.

All that matters is you.

You and him, right now, with your hands in his hair, his arm around your waist, and his other hand stroking your cheek. It’s almost too much to believe it’s real but it is, he doesn’t know how he got so lucky. To be able to receive your affections and return them. Part of Law wonders if this was your plan all along, to get him away from everyone just to kiss him, even though he’s the one who led you away, but he thinks you didn’t plan this part at all, it just happened.

But it’s okay, he doesn’t mind. Not everything has to be planned down to the letter. You certainly weren’t in his plans.

This really might become a mess down the line, but does that matter? Just for a bit, he’ll ignore everything going on around you, Law will briefly ignore his plans just for a few moments tonight. For the several minutes you two spend in a silent confession of feelings that had built up over the last few weeks, he’s going to ignore reality.

Until you softly push him away, Law wonders if he did something wrong, only to see you give him a shy smile.

“Happy birthday, Law.”

He laughs slightly, shaking his head before kissing you again.

“Thank you, [Y/N]-ya.”

You really can’t wait to tell Ikkaku about this.

+!+

Eventually Law walks you to your room, your gift to him in one hand while you hold onto his other one, fingers laced together and stroking the back of his hand with your thumb. You two haven’t fully decided what you are yet, you’ll discuss it later, he’s promised you that. Even if Law would like to sit and talk things through with you tonight, it’s late and there are things to do the next day. The rest of the crew might be hungover and sick in the morning, but they’ve got to get a move on to the next island, there are more hearts to be collected.

Once you’re back to your room, Law kisses you once more for the night, thanking you again for the gifts, before he heads off to his office. He tries to hurry so you don’t see the pink blush on his face, but you already have, you just don’t tell him. You simply say goodnight in return, going into your room and leaning against the door with a dreamy sigh and smile on your face, which Ikkaku picks up immediately when she sees you from her bed.

“So…how’d it go?”

“I kissed him.”

“What?!”

“And he kissed me back…for a few minutes.”

“Holy shit, you got Law to make out with you?!”

Before you can say anything else, Ikkaku tells you to wait, jumping out of bed to grab your arm after she locks the door and drags you to her bed, making you sit down. She quickly goes to her dresser and pulls out a small wine bottle she’d hidden from the boys and joins you back on her bed with it.

“How long have you been hiding that?”

“Doesn’t matter! Tell me everything!”

The alcohol burns but Ikkaku’s giggling at your retelling of what happened with Law makes you smile and giggle in return. She looks like she’s reading a slow burn romance novel while you tell her everything that’s happened, giving Law his gift and kissing him, how he returned it and said you’ll talk about things later. She rolls her eyes a bit at that but the few yawns you give tell her that was probably the reason why he said that.

Once you finish telling the story, you sigh again and fall back on her bed, still smiling while Ikkaku watches you.

“That was my first kiss…”

“Really??”

“Mm,” you nod a little, thinking back and knowing that’s true, “I wonder if it was his too.”

“Probably. Captain hasn’t shown interest in anyone before, I’d be surprised if he’s ever kissed anyone that wasn’t on a dare.”

You look like you’re thinking, but Ikkaku smiles before she takes a drink of the wine and lays beside you.

“This is so cool, you and Law. I knew there was something there when I saw you two working together.”

“Oh please, I doubt he’s liked me that long.”

“You never know! Imagine he’s liked you since Amazon Lily!”

“Now that’s way too far back!”

The two of you stay up laughing and talking, the few worries you have about what’s next dissipating as Ikkaku tells you everything she’s noticed that led her to believing Law liked you, it makes you so much happier to know your feelings are reciprocated.

After he makes it back to his office, Law nearly collapses on the ground, his energy spent and his emotions going haywire.

The gifts you’ve given him, the kiss you shared, he doesn’t know how to fully process all of it. It’s so foreign to him, he doesn’t think he’s felt so happy since the time he spent with Cora, he’s sure he hasn’t felt this loved since then either, even though he’s sure you’re not in love with him yet.

Law sets your gifts on his desk, he’ll put them away in the morning, placing his face in his hands to try and stop the blush he knows is there and the smile that he can’t seem to wipe off no matter how much he tries to. He tries to calm himself down, tell himself this isn’t a big deal, maybe you will come by in the morning and tell him it was a mistake, but he hopes and prays you don’t.

I can’t believe she kissed me. I didn’t expect that…

“Heeey, Law, I’m heading up for night watch,” Penguin knocks on the doorway a bit, stepping into Law’s office as his captain just nods, making him raise an eyebrow, “Something good happen, Cap?”

“Yeah…yeah, something good happened.”

+!+

It takes a few weeks still for Law to ask to take you on a date, but you waste no time in accepting the offer. He tells you not to let it out to anyone, but you may have slipped up and told Ikkaku when you asked for her opinion on what to wear. The two of you sounded like schoolgirls with how you were giggling and chatting over the fact Law actually wanted to take you out for a date, your feelings aren’t one-sided, he really does like you back! It only feels so strange to know that because of how Luffy and Ace would chase off boys that liked you way back when, even if you liked the boy back, your brothers couldn’t stand the thought of one of them taking you away. None of them were good enough for you.

You think Ace would’ve liked and approved of Law. Even though he’s older than you, if they’d been able to meet, you’re sure Ace would have liked Law, liked the fact he’s also a doctor, and that he makes you happy so far.

The night of your date doesn’t really go as planned though. Everyone except Ikkaku, Bepo, Law, and you are off the ship, exploring the town you’re docked near, Law had sent them all out with a day off and stayed on board along with you to get ready for your date and make sure no one was going to find out about it. He’s not ready for the teasing that’s to come and wants this to stay as secret as possible.

Once you’re dressed and ready, you expect Law to come get you from your room like he said he would at the time he’d told you, but he’s late and you start to worry when it gets later and later.

Had he changed his mind and decided to stand you up? No, no Law would never do that, if he didn’t want to go out with you he would’ve said so, he probably never would have asked in the first place.

Right? Right. Law wouldn’t leave me without an answer.

Again you’re at his office door, knocking to see if he answers and once again, you receive no response. He hasn’t left the ship you know that, Ikkaku said she saw him in his office just a few minutes before he was supposed to come get you, so what happened?

“Law? Are you ready to go?” Still no response, so you decide to again let yourself in, you aren’t prepared to see Law is still in his office, but appears to be passed out on the floor, it actually scares you.

“Law!! What happened?!” You hurry over and make sure he’s still breathing, relieved to find he is, before checking him for a fever. “What the hell, Law, are you all right?!”

What a way for your first date to start.

Law never wanted you to know just how nervous he really was about your first date, he kept it all to himself. He only let Penguin know about it by accident, to get some advice that he thought might be helpful, but his friend only ended up telling things not to do. He rolled his eyes and gave up on that, only asking if it was normal to feel like he was going to be sick at the thought of taking you to dinner

“Yeah for a first date, that sounds normal, Cap.”

“How do I get rid of it?”

“I…well…go on the date and see?”

Yes, very helpful advice. It didn’t help with the constant dizzy feeling he had, though Law thinks that may have been slight dehydration from his nerves causing him to forgo all water and food that day. He really didn’t want to risk actually throwing up before or during your date and grossing you out.

Unfortunately, all of it hit him at once when he was leaving his office to go get you, causing Law to realize how badly he’d neglected himself that day, and the day before, as he passed out without the chance to call for someone’s help.

But when he opens his eyes a while later and sees you giving him a worried smile, he knows he’s screwed up. He blinks a few times, barely registering that he’s laying down on the couch in his office, he knows he hit the floor. He can feel the pain in his head from it, yet he doesn’t mind too much feeling your hand in his hair or his head in your lap.

“Hey, you.”

“[Y/N]-ya…?”

“In the flesh.”

“What…what happened…?”

“You tell me,” giving him a concerned smile, you gently run your fingers through Law’s hair while he looks up at you like he’s thinking, “You were late coming to get me, I was worried you’d changed your mind…when I came to see what was up, you were passed out on the floor. Bepo helped me get you here.”

“I…I don’t remember,” he shakes his head a bit before sitting up, finally remembering what it was and groaning, “Wait, yes I do. I was about to come to your room, when I started to feel dizzy. I…guess I passed out…”

“Do you have a fever? Are you feeling okay? We don’t have to go out if you’re sick, Law! We can do it another day.”

Law really doesn’t want to admit the reason for his dizziness and sudden fainting, once he realizes what caused it all, he doesn’t want you to feel bad about something you couldn’t control. It’s all on him for stressing out so much about the date, he just wants to impress you. He's never done this before, dating isn’t in his skill set.

“…Law?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m fine.”

He gets up so quickly you don’t have time to stop him, but still follow and grab his arm.

“Hey, talk to me,” you make him turn to face you, smiling softly even though he doesn’t look at you, he’s keeping his eyes on the ground, “Whatever it is, I won’t be upset. If you want to postpone, that’s fi—”

“Why do you even like me?”

“What—”

“There’s nothing good about me,” Law moves to pull away from you, but you keep your grip on his sleeve, not letting him get away, “I’m not a good person, you deserve someone who is. You deserve someone who can make you happy, not…not me…I can’t do that…”

The silence feels deafening, when you don’t respond right away. He’s sure you’re rethinking all of this now. His birthday when you kissed him, the few times in between then and now where you’d stop him to kiss his cheek and he’d return it with one to your forehead, how he’s walked you to your room each night, and the few times he’s let you share his bed for the night. When he finally decided to ask you on a date the other day, even though you gave him the brightest smile he’s ever seen from you, he doesn’t believe you could be happy with him.

Who could ever be happy with him, with someone who’s seen so much death in his life, at only twenty-five, when he’s bent on avenging Cora and stopping Kaido?

Why would you want anything to do with that?

“I…am happy, though,” you move to hold Law’s hand, placing your other on his face to make him look at you, “I like you, Law. I really do and I feel happy when I’m around you, you can ask Ikkaku. I tell her all the time how much I like you, how much I want to be with you.”

“You don’t—”

“I’m not lying. I don’t know what you’re thinking about us, and that’s okay right now, but I…I can see myself with you now and in the future. I promise, Law, you make me happy, just by being you.”

Law doesn’t have a chance to say anything before you kiss him, trying to convince him of your feelings being real. He’s hesitant to return it but does so after a moment, before you pull away with a smile.

“…you look nice.”

“Thank you…you do too.”

“I…I was going to take you to dinner.”

“Oh yeah?”

Law nods, wanting to explain better, before you start to sit down, still holding his hand to bring him to the floor with you. When he tries to speak, you just shake your head.

“It’s my turn to ask a question.”

“What about—"

“Will you tell me about your tattoos?”

Law doesn’t pull his hand away from you, while you continue hold it and gently run your finger over the cross on the back of his hand, he has to fight not to just intertwine his fingers with yours.

This isn’t how he thought your first date would go. Not you finding him passed out from stress and turning it into simply talking. He knows already he’s going to make it up to you with a proper date at the next island.

“For my family, and for Cora-san…” he points first to the ones on his hands and forearms, placing his free hand on his chest to point out the one for Corazon though you could’ve guessed that.

Humming, you nod, Law brings his other hand up to softly tuck a piece of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek and watching you lean into his hand.

He really is very sweet.

“For your crew?”

“My jolly Roger on my back.”

“…what about for you?”

Law takes a deep breath but doesn’t say anything for a bit. He keeps holding your hand, staring at his own, wondering if he should admit it or not. What will you think? Will you decide you don’t want to bother with him?

You probably read the book you gave him, the one about Flevance, he could tell the book had been read. It didn’t go into detail about his home’s destruction, chalking it up to the white lead disease and scarcity of resources, but he wasn’t surprised when he got there himself. The government would never admit wrongdoing, they’d never allow their involvement to be published.

But he thinks you should know. You haven’t walked away after hearing his story, his past, you’re still here with him. You look like you already know what he’s going to say, a sad smile now on your face as you look at his hand in yours.

“’Death’…for what’s marked my life since I was ten.”

He’s quiet, like he’s worried he’s going to scare you off, like he’s marked you for death just by developing feelings for you, allowing himself to entertain the thought of being with you. Everyone he’s ever loved has died, it could be the same for you if trends are anything to go by. It wouldn’t be fair to you, to Luffy, if anything happened simply because you’ve chosen to be with him, Law doesn’t want anything to happen to you. You’ve both been through things, of varying degrees, what could you want with someone like him?

Law tries to pull away from you, you’ve been quiet for so long now, he thinks he’s effectively squashed your feelings for him, you don’t want to be with him now, he's sure of it.

But you don’t let him get too far away, wrapping your arms around him and laying your head on his chest. Law isn’t really sure what to make of this. It’s not like before, when you’ve hugged him other times, you’re still quiet yourself though you nod.

“I don’t think that’s true anymore…not with this crew, this family you’ve built.”

“[Y/N]-ya—”

“I’d like to stay by your side and prove you wrong,” you tighten your arms around him as Law finally returns your hug, tighter than you even expected, “if you’ll let me.”

“…as long as you’ll have me.”

You both stay quiet for a bit, eventually you look up at Law and give him a soft smile before leaning up to kiss him again, which he returns without any hesitation this time.

It'll take some time for him to be fully comfortable and accepting of this, of the love and attention you’re ready to so freely give him, but you’re willing to give him that time.

Anything to make sure Law knows you aren’t going anywhere, even when you have to return to your crew. You’re not going to let him go very easily.

#one piece x reader #reader insert #fem!reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #where you belong

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sleepybbie · 3 months ago

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FILL ME UP R♡CKSTAR! | KINKTOBER SPECIAL 2024

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ MINORS DNI (18+) ࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔

—welcome to lily’s special kinktober request event! ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა

hello, hello! it’s been a while, my beloveds ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ since october is arriving, i thought to myself that why not join along for the upcoming kinktober? ;3 and also, why not make it a little special for both my followers and readers?

today’s theme for my kinktober special, is…rockstar/band au for honkai: star rail male characters!

here are the main courses to fill up!:

mirror sex with…

dumbification with…

degradation with..

cheating with…

jealousy fucking with…

voyeurism with…

pet play/collaring with…

breeding with…

here’s how to participate! ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡

• ask in my inbox which kink you’ll pick to fill the blanks! the specific character you want, and the scenario!

• the scenario in my ask must be well-explained and not in a short sentence, unless you want the details to be up to me ! (ex. face sitting with guitarist!blade x reader and then explain your scenario).

• once you send your ask, i will be picking which only one i will choose for the certain scenario ^_^ so good luck!

• the masterlist will be out by sept 30 with the results! so hurry and pick your favorite!

here’s the catch! (rules): ₍^ >ヮ<^₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ

• as always, must be 18+ before requesting. ageless blogs and 17 below are BLOCKED <3

• if you chose the prompt ‘cheating,’ only reader will be the one that does so and not the character. reader will also not be cheating on the character (iykwim)

• i only write for female!readers since i don’t know how to write for gn or male (i’m rlly sorry!) T^T

• request in my ask only ! i will not accept from messages or in the comment section T^T

• no first come first serve! i pick depending how i like the scenario you provided <33

• i do not write for arlan, yanqing or misha ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ (i don’t feel comfortable writing for them, it’s illegal lol), nor do i write for npcs like skott ToT (however yingxing and dan feng are exceptions <33)

• male characters only T-T (i still haven’t figured out how to write spice for fem T-T)

rules understood? then good luck and have fun! excited to know your scenarios for this kinktober!

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ladybyakuya · 6 months ago

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| when we're done making love and you look up and give me those eyes |

+cw. — abo au, headcanon format, mating cycles, heat cycles, some canon elements, omega!reader, gn!reader

+wc. —0.6 k

+syn.— where do they like to mark? Is it before marriage or during the first night? Is it you who marks first or him?

+notes. — mandatory celebration post for gen narumi but my brain said why be so biased hahah. enjoy. | redirect to blog navigation.

Reno Ichikawa → Reno Ichikawa is the type to talk about marking before actually doing it. Marking is a big step when you are in any kind of relationship, whether serious or casual. So, without consent, he will not mark you. Reno likes to mark where you can see, touch his mark, and perhaps miss him when he is not around. It could be when he is inside you holding you as close as possible whispering how good you are to him and how blessed he is to meet you or it could be when you are sitting on the kitchen counter sipping a warm cup of coffee. He is talking about his day at work when he suddenly becomes a little cozy and comfortable. He takes your hand and bites around the wrist. It does not hurt much but when his teeth latch away from your skin you can see it in his eyes saying, “We've all night long to make it more memorable.” And throughout the night he makes you remember how he is worth your time. He is a little too excited to get marked by you. He is not really concerned with “where” rather he is more focused on “how”.

Gen Narumi → Gen Narumi will mark you when you two are engaging in sex with both of your sanity intact. He will not mark you when you are under the influence of heat cycle and begging him to mark you neither will he mark you when he is at his peak of mating urges. Surely, it slightly breaks his heart to see how desperate you are to get marked but he is totally aware of the fact that it is your hormone talking. So, when he is not in his rut and you are not experiencing heat cycles he will mark you, as many times as you want and wherever you want. But when he is done marking you: along your nape, inner thighs, wrists, and calf muscles he gets a little shy when it is your turn to mark him. He is the type to avoid eye contact after being too intimate so it takes time for him to muster up the courage to talk or even look after the marking session. Once he gets out of his shell of shyness you are in for an absolute treat.

Soshiro Hoshina → Hoshina likes to mark where your hands can not reach, nor to soothe the pain nor to remember how it felt and nor have the privilege of even seeing it. Only he can see where he marked. He is the type to leave multiple marks, on your nape and back. And he insists on being marked where it is not easy to see. Not because he wants to hide his relationship from the eyes of the world but because he wants something solely to belong to himself without the scrutiny eyes of his family. Growing up in a traditional family he is the type to break rules whenever he has the opportunity. So, even though you two already had a marking session before he would still insist on doing it on the first night after marriage. No one will know except you two.

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takamimami · 3 months ago

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Like a Moth to a Flame

Pairing: Eustass Kidd + f!Reader + Roronoa Zoro (no use of y/n)

Where are my Zoro/Kidd lovers?!? I'm sick and this is what I spent my day sitting on my couch typing. 11 pages of straight debauchery. Enjoy :3

CW: SMUT, a literal fever dream bear with me, threesome, cunnilingus, deepthroating, rough sex, Zoro is a meanie :3, cuckolding, yes Kidd gets cucked, lots of teasing, slight power play dynamics, dom/sub vibes all around, Zoro calls you 'pretty girl', Kidd calls you 'angel' --- word count: 4.7k

🔞NSFW; MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS KEEP IT MOVING🔞

Summary: Eustass Kidd doesn't own you - doesn't belong to you nor do you belong to him, and he certainly doesn't care what you choose to do with your free time..... unless it happens to not be him. How will he handle you taking someone from an ally crew to bed? The answer: not well. OR Maybe Eustass Kidd just needs to see you get your guts rearranged in order to realize that he does, in fact, give a shit about you.

From the moment he saw you talking to the Straw Hat’s swordsmen, Kidd could tell that something in him piqued your interest. He’d seen it the first time the two of you interacted after the alliance was formed - the way you seemed to gravitate toward him as everyone discussed strategy and tactics, the way you smirked every time Zoro’s eyes lingered on you a little longer than they did anyone else as everyone recounted their experiences during the raid. And now Kidd watched as his suspicions were confirmed, noting how you pressed your shoulders back and your chest against his arm as the two of you sipped sake together.

Kidd could feel himself growing restless as the festivities began to wind down for the night, ready to retire back to the comfort of his ship. As he finishes the last of the drink in his hand he scans the crowd for his lot, eyes settling back on you as you continue to get cozy with the pirate hunter.

He waves a hand in Killer’s direction as he stands and walks toward you, your eyes flicking to him as he saunters over. You quirk a brow at him and unconsciously pull away from Zoro, the action not unnoticed by the swordsman as he flicks his eyes between you and Kid.

You didn’t know where you stood with your captain anymore, you knew he preferred to have you warm his bed rather than a nameless face, and his drunken rambles made you privy to the fact that there may be more to your relationship than just being his crew mate. But what the two of you had was fun, simple, and most importantly, not messy. Neither of you had any expectations of the other one, yet the underlying sense of loyalty you felt to Kidd was always in the back of your mind, never wanting to make him question your intentions.

As he approached he grinned at Zoro, his eyes flicking down to your chest, and then down to where your thigh pressed against his, lingering there for a moment before coming back up to meet Zoro’s gaze.

“You two look cozy,” he chuckles, and you can sense an undertone you don’t often hear from your captain in his words. “We’re heading back to the ship, see to it she makes it back safely.”

Kidd’s eyes remain locked on Zoro, the command weighing heavy in the air as he turns on his heel without offering you a glance. He disappears into the night and you feel Zoro’s hand shift on your waist, his eyes finally moving back to you once Kidd’s presence dissipated.

“Your captain doesn’t handle jealousy well, does he?”

You raised a brow at Zoro’s question, taking a sip of sake before offering a reply.

“To be fair, Kidd doesn’t handle any emotion well,” you start, giggling lightly at the presumption, “But I don’t think he was jealous. He’s probably not thrilled at the idea of me getting “cozy” with a Straw Hat.”

Zoro offers you a sideways look, grinning as he takes a sip of his own sake. You watch the bob of his throat as he gulps down the liquid, the flex of his neck muscles hypnotizing you.

“Is everyone in your crew emotionally dense, or is it just the two of you?”

You feign offense to his suggestion, but he continues before you can offer a rebuttal.

“He’s clearly territorial over you, why else would he only check on you before leaving for the night?”

The concept was not lost on you as you let his words sink in, feeling his gaze on you intently as you contemplated what to say.

Zoro notes your lack of response, swirling his glass a few times before continuing, “Maybe its just a male thing, but I’ve noticed it ever since the first time you spoke to me. You may not notice it because it’s normal for you, but I do - the constant checking up on you, the stares that linger a bit too long, the way he tenses if you smile at anyone that’s not him.”

You nod your head, still processing his comments, “Very observant, Mr. Swordsman.”

He lets out a single chuckle before raising his glass for another drink.

“Does that worry you?”

Zoro’s arm hesitates as he brings his sake glass back to his lips, a devilish smirk curling on his lips before he finishes the drink. The hand around your waist tightens as he pulls you flush to his side, craning his neck down so his face is close enough for you to feel the tickle of his breath as he lets out a chuckle.

“Not at all.”

His lips are softer than you thought they’d be, though the kiss is as harsh as you were craving it to feel as he closes the distance between the two of you completely, his tongue wasting no time and immediately prodding at your lips. They part for him willingly as you taste the sake on his tongue, his scent flooding your senses due to his proximity. You rest your hand on his broad chest, feeling the muscles underneath your hand flex and relax as you settle into his embrace. The kiss quickly heats up and you find yourself biting down on his bottom lip, to which he pulls away and stares into your glossy eyes, his own hazy eyes dark with desire.

“And what about you, hm?” he croons, nuzzling his nose into your chin as he leans down to pepper kisses along your jaw. “You said yourself that you’re captain doesn’t handle his emotions well.” You feel your back arch and your body lean into him as he moves down to your neck, his kisses growing slopier the lower he goes.

“Are you willing to risk his wrath for one night of fun?”

You moan as the idea flashes through your mind, the two of you tangled in the sheets, his hard sculpted body pressed against you as you both explore each other. It was unspoken between the two of you, but deep down you both knew things would never go beyond this fleeting moment. Your loyalties to your captains were woven too deeply into your beings to ever consider anything more.

“Or, is that what you want?” Zoro smiles against the skin of your neck, biting and sucking down on the tender skin above your jugular before detaching his teeth and licking over the abused area. “You love pissing him off, don’t you?”

You feel heat rush straight to your core as you squeeze your legs together, the truth of his words causing a moan to escape your mouth as he continues his assault on your neck. He traces his hand up from the middle of your back to pull at the hair on the nape of your neck, exposing more of your neck to him and earning a deeper moan in response.

You can feel his smile widen at your reaction, the lack of a rebuttal telling him all he needed to know as he pulls away from your neck reluctantly.

“Shall we?”

His invitation doesn’t need any further explanation, his lust-filled eyes watching you as you stand and turn toward the pier. You can feel Zoro’s eyes on you the entire walk to the Victoria Punk, though the closer you get to the ship the faster your heart beats at the thought of what was to come.

You ascend the gangway and immediately scan the deck, relieved to only see a few crew members lingering in the darkness. You reach back and tug Zoro’s arm, trying to make your way to one of the communal rooms without being spotted.

You duck into the room quickly, not noticing that Kidd had spotted you the second you stepped onto the deck. He noted your flushed face and how you kept your gaze low before turning back to the drink he was nursing, cursing lowly to himself for even caring what you did in your spare time.

“Leave it you freaks to have a designated sex room on board your ship,” he teases, cocking a grin as he spins around to look at you.

“Actually,” you say pressing the door shut with your heel, taking his jab as a compliment, “We have three.”

As you spun around and locked the door you felt Zoro’s looming presence surround you, turning and finding him hovering over you patiently, almost as if waiting for permission. You bite your bottom lip and lean against the door, and that seems to be the invitation he was waiting for because he swiftly closes the gap between the two of you, lifting you by the back of your legs and pressing you against the door.

Your hands tangle in his hair as he claims your mouth, this kiss more fervent than the previous one. His hands tug your legs around his waist before roaming elsewhere, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake as he traces the contours of your body.

A needy buck of his hips has you tugging at his clothes, craving more of his touch with each passing second. His large hands reach up and cup the mounds of your breasts, kneading them roughly as he grinds his considerable length into you again, this time deliberately teasing you.

“Zoro, please,” you moan into his mouth, the sound louder than you intended it to be.

He smiles cockily as he pulls away from you, feeling accomplished in having gotten you riled up already.

“Shhhhh pretty girl,” he croons, “Gonna have your whole crew listening to you beg for my cock if you’re not careful.”

A damp heat pools in your core as he grinds himself into you again, testing if that was in fact your plan. The moan you let slip through your lips is slightly quieter this time, but not enough to disprove his suspicions. One more thrust of his hips has you ready to beg him again but instead, he pulls away from your body, still holding you against the door as he drops to his knees before you.

You look down at him with heavy lids as he pulls at the waistband of your bottoms, pulling them and your panties down your legs and leaving you bare before him. The sinful way he licks his lips as your cheeks flush, and you barely have a second to process his actions as he lifts your legs over his shoulders. He supports the entire weight of your body as you’re pinned to the wall, your back arching at the first swipe of his tongue through your wet folds.

He hums at the taste of you, burying his face in deeper as you brace yourself against the door with one hand, the other tangling in his green locks as you bite down on your lip to hold in your moans. You’re only successful in doing so until he prods a finger at your entrance, and then the sudden stretch of his finger has your mouth falling open, allowing a throaty moan to escape you and vibrate the walls of the room. He quickly adds a second finger and curls them along the spongy wall near your entrance, causing you to press your head back against the door as his tongue dances circles around your clit. Stars dance behind your eyelids as you fight to maintain your composure, the knot in your stomach pulling tighter as you yank at Zoro’s hair, earning a grunt of approval from him.

“C’mon, pretty girl, let ‘em hear you,” he purrs before attaching his lips back to your clit, and you feel him wrap his free hand around your hip to hold you in place as you feel that cord inside you snap. You let out a string of curses as your orgasm ripples through your body, your moans morphing into whimpers as Zoro works you through it, his eyes watching you as you fall apart for him.

With a satisfied smirk, he pulls away from you once your hips have stilled, his chin dripping with your arousal as he brings his fingers to his lips, licking them clean.

“You taste as good as you look,” he smiles devilishly, and Gods you’re not sure if you’ve ever seen anything more sinful.

He gently pulls your legs from his shoulders, making sure you’re steady before pulling away from you, walking over towards the bed as he tugs at the remainder of his clothes.

You hear a faint sound on the other side of the door, but the chiseled naked body in front of you pulls your attention right back as Zoro turns and sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes beckoning you forward as you push yourself away from the door and make your way over to him.

He’s fisting his cock as you strut over to him, pulling your top over your head and discarding it across the room as you reach him and situate yourself in between his thighs. He hisses as you place your hand over his, pulling his hand back as you run your fingers over the swollen and weeping tip of his cock. You spread the precum down his shaft as you begin to work him gently with your hands, keeping your face teasingly close to him as he watches you through his lashes. His heavy lids fall completely closed when you give in and finally wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue around it a few times before running it along the thick vein that runs along the underside, your eyes holding his gaze the entire time.

Just as you take him in your mouth fully you feel his body shift, but before you can pull back and inspect him or inquire further he grips the top of your head and presses you down further, a mumbled moan of surprise escaping both of you as he tickles the back of your throat. You screw your eyes shut, willing yourself to take more of him as you begin bobbing your head up and down on him, earning a hiss of approval. Whatever distracted him seemingly hadn’t been important enough to mention, so you continue your ministrations as you feel a needy pulse begin to pool in your core once more.

Zoro’s grunts begin to fill the room as he presses you further and further down his cock, pushing you to your limits until your gag reflex is triggered and you sputter and gag against his length.

“Fuck, just like that, pretty girl,” he praises, and gag reflex be damned, you slacken your jaw and allow him to press even further into your throat, his hips raising off the bed slightly as he fucks into you. His hand on your head holds you in place as you feel your airway being restricted, trying desperately to breathe in through your nose for some sense of release. In a cruel act of dominance, Zoro notices your struggling and pinches your nose, holding himself deep in your throat as your ears start to ring from the lack of oxygen. Just as you think you’re going to pass out you dig your nails into his thighs and he lets you come up for air, sputtering and coughing as you pull away from him and try to ground yourself again.

You wipe the spit from your face and chin as you look up at him through bleary eyes, the same devilish grin on his face as his chest rises and falls, seemingly equally out of breath from the intensity of the moment.

“I see why your captain likes you so much,” he purrs, leaning down to grab the back of your head and pull you up into his lap, his erection pressing against your thigh as he kisses you sloppily.

“Is he always this nosy when you bring men back to the ship?”

The question immediately makes your stomach drop, your head flinging to the door as you see a shadow underneath the door, your eyes wide as you start to piece together the signs.

Kidd wasn’t sure why he was still standing outside the door, unsure why for the life of him he couldn’t make his legs work and retreat to the confines of his cabin. His intention of walking over here was to stop you before you got too far into the act, to see if, for some Gods’ forsaken reason, he could convince you not to sleep with someone who wasn’t him tonight.

But instead when he reached for the door handle, his Observation Haki triggered, and it was like he could see right inside the room - see how the swordsman had you pinned against the door, feasting on you like you were the first thing he’d tasted all day, and the way your body was practically singing for him.

At first, he convinced himself it was jealousy - that the alcohol was going straight to his dick, and all he wanted was to charge in there and rip you away from him. But then, when he rested his forehead against the wall next to the door, he could sense the change in Zoro’s demeanor, as if he knew Kidd was standing outside the door.

That made Kidd realize the bastard was goading him, and this was confirmed for Kidd the minute those last words left Zoro’s mouth.

You were still staring at the door in shock as Zoro brought his head down to your chest, taking a nipple in between his lips as he hums in amusement.

“Tell him he’s welcome to come watch if that’s what he’s into,” he teases, pulling you around so you’re on the edge of the bed.

You whip your head around to look at him, realizing he’s serious as he pats your ass and nudges you off the bed, motioning you towards the door. Your legs work before your brain has any time to process, and sure enough, as you open the door, there he is.

His eyes roam over your naked body hungrily, and you feel the heat pooling between your legs as he bites his lip, unable to say anything.

“Come in,” you squeak out, and his eyes widen at your request.

“Is that what you want?” his nostrils flare as he speaks, eyes flicking over to Zoro, who’s still sitting on the edge of the bed with a smug grin on his face.

You can only nod, a smirk curling up on your lips as you suddenly feel emboldened by the current power dynamic playing out before you. You walk over to Kidd, pulling at his coat as you push him back into the chair in the corner of the room.

“Sit.” The command leaves your mouth and, for once, Kidd listens to you with no argument.

His cheeks flare into a blush as Zoro chuckles behind you, and you turn around and make your way back to him, hitching a leg over his and straddling him.

“I didn’t take you as a cuck, Captain Kidd,” Zoro’s taunts. Kidd grunts from the other side of the room, his lip curling up into a snarl even though he keeps his eyes trained on your every movement.

“Fuck you,” he growls out, unable to refrain from snapping back.

You look over your shoulder at Kidd in warning, and you swear you see his eyes soften ever so slightly before you turn back to Zoro, who in return grabs you by the hips and turns you around. You’re now facing Kidd, each of your legs on the outside of Zoro’s as he pulls you down into his lap, tapping his cock on your pussy a few times as Kidd watches from the chair.

You notice the growing tent in Kidd’s pants, and you feel a shiver run down your spine as Zoro lifts your hips slightly to line himself at your entrance. He leans forward, nipping a bite on your shoulder before bringing his lips up to your ear,

“You gonna show me why your captain loves this pretty little pussy so much?”

You nearly moan just from the filthy words in your ear, and nod your head as you sink down onto his cock, your eyes staring holes into Kidd’s as your lips fall open once he’s fully seated inside you.

Zoro growls into your ear and offers you little time to adjust to him, his strong arms lifting you up and guiding you along his length as he brings his hand around to trace gentle circles on your still-sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” he grunts as you begin to bounce in his lap, the squelching sound of him moving in and out of you accompanied by the slapping of your skin filling the room as you maintain Kidd’s gaze. Every second he looks at you has that knot tightening in your stomach, and you feel yourself growing impossibly wetter from the mixture of the lewd noises and Kidd’s gaze searing into you. Zoro’s cock presses deep inside you, your velvet walls clamping around him as he increases the pressure he’s applying to your clit, earning a strangled cry from you as you struggle to stay grounded.

Zoro leans back and gives you a few deep thrusts of his hips before he repositions you, pulling out of your wetness with a grunt as he walks you over to the corner of the room where Kidd is sitting. You feel a foot on the back of your knees and they immediately buckle, your body now kneeling before Kidd as he sits in the chair, his erection pressing painfully against its confinement.

Zoro drops to his knees behind you and grabs your hair, pressing your face into Kidd’s lap as he thrusts into you greedily, the sensation becoming too much for you as you try to hide your face in Kidd’s thigh. But Zoro notices and tugs your hair, craning your neck back so you’re forced to look up at Kidd, whose eyes are a fiery shade of amber you’ve never seen before.

He pistons in and out of you a few times before pulling you up so your back is flush to his chest, and he runs his tongue up the base of your neck to your ear, his raspy voice making your back arch into his thrust needily.

“Want you to suck your captain’s cock while I fuck you stupid, pretty girl,” he pants, dropping you back into Kidd’s lap as you frantically struggle with his belt.

Kidd’s lips curl slightly as he eyes Zoro skeptically, his eyes flicking back to you instantly as soon as you free him from his briefs.

You lick your lips before taking him in your mouth, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as Zoro’s speed decreases, matching the rhythm of your head bobbing up and down Kidd’s length as Kidd throws his head back. He lets out a throaty groan as you take most of him in your mouth, reaching down to fondle his balls like you know he loves, his hands making their way to your hair to goad you further down his cock.

A particularly sharp snap of Zoro’s hips has your mouth moaning around Kidd, and you feel his cock twitch from the sensation. He presses you to the base of his cock, your eyes watering as you sputter and gag from how far you’re deepthroating him. As he lets you up for air, Zoro tugs you up by the shoulder, pounding into you quicker as he seeks to force you over the edge again.

“Tell him how good I feel,” he growls, and your eyes flicker to Kidd’s immediately, his hand fisting his cock as he watches the lewd scene before him.

His eyes meet your intense gaze, and you avert your eyes to drop your chin as you struggle to find the words.

“H-his cock feels so good, Captain,” you whine, and Kidd thinks he might come just from the desperation in your voice.

Zoro chuckles, reaching over to grab your chin between his fingers and yanking your head back up. You’re convinced your body is going to combust as he sharpens his thrusts, your eyes meeting Kidd’s again.

“Tell him again.”

The sound that leaves your mouth has both men’s lips curling into smirks, and that knot in your stomach tightens again from the new angle of Zoro’s thrusts.

“His cock feels so, fucking, good, Captain!”

You’re sure your cries can be heard all throughout the ship, but you can’t find a morsel of your body that cares as your vision begins to blur.

Kidd shifts forward in his seat, finally unable to handle the lack of control, and grabs your chin into his own hand, snatching your cheeks from Zoro’s grip and bringing his face down to yours.

“You wanna come, hmm?” Kidd purrs, and you feel the tears begin to stream down your cheeks as he watches you intently.

You nod and manage to choke out a feeble ‘yes please’ and he tightens his grip on your chin, his nose almost touching yours.

He grunts in response, his eyes flashing up to Zoro, who looks like he’s beginning to struggle to maintain his composure.

“You come inside her, and I swear to god you won’t leave this ship alive,” he snarls, the possessiveness in his tone going straight to your cunt as you feel yourself clamp down around Zoro.

His response is also a grunt, his eyes screwing shut at the feeling of your walls starting to flutter around him.

Kidd smiles cockily, finally feeling a bit more in control as he looks back down to you, your tear-stained cheeks making his cock ache.

“Come on his cock, angel. Show him how pretty you sing for me.”

Kidd knows he’s end is near, so he lets you rest your head on his thigh as he pumps himself. You’re the first one to break, your pussy tightening like a vice around Zoro as the cord in your core snaps, waves of euphoria crashing over you as your moans fill and vibrate through the room.

Zoro fucks into you for as long as he can manage, but before long his pace turns erratic and he reluctantly pulls out of your velvet walls to spill himself on your back. His grunts echo behind you as he pumps himself dry, Kidd’s own groans and grunts pulling your attention as he comes undone moments later. A few ropes of his cum land on your face as you struggle to catch your breath, the smell of musk and sex permeating the air as you slowly come back down from your high. When you finally open your eyes and lift your head, Kidd is watching you with a softness you weren’t used to seeing from him, and you wipe the remainder of his release from your face as you climb up his limp body, peppering wet kisses along his chest and neck until you meet his lips.

The kiss feels familiar, but at the same time, there’s an unfamiliar desperation in the way Kidd’s mouth moves against yours that has your mind spinning a mile a minute. Regardless, you can’t help but feel at home in his arms, your sweat-slick bodies melding together like they were made to be that way.

You don’t notice Zoro standing and dressing himself, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he moves towards the door.

Kidd looks around you to eye the swordsman as he opens the door, “Hey! Don’t go running your mouth about what happened here tonight!”

You swat at Kidd’s chest as Zoro raises his hand, swearing himself to keep this secret between them.

“Just make sure I get an invite to the wedding,” he chuckles as he grabs his swords and walks out of the room, your body tensing at the insinuation.

“Not a chance in hell,” Kidd groans, flicking his wrist to force the door shut and locking it again, lifting you and carrying you to the bed with him.

You’re too busy focusing on the fact that Kidd didn’t refute the idea of marrying you to notice the look in his eyes as he hovers over you, sinking his hips into yours for what would surely be an impossibly long night for the both of you.

My hands are sweaty, that is all I have to say :3 lemme know what you thought, and if you liked it, I would love it if you liked and reblogged to spread the love <3 ✨come say hai :3✨ 100 FOLLOWERS EVENT

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