#I HAVE VERY MUCH BEEN DRAGGED INTO THIS SHIP

[sadesluvr]

TEETH.

Sergei Kravinoff might be a villian, and you a hero; but at the end of the day you're both animals.

A/N: First fic in a while so my bad if it sucks. You already know this movie was basically ass but we only watched it for ATJ anyway - I'm changing some of Kraven's character so he's similar to the comics/Spider-Man 2 game, so be sure to read the tags bc he’s a lil dark…

Word count: 2.3K

Tags: SMUT / DUB-CON / Spiderwoman! Reader / Breeding / Unprotected + rough sex

Kraven feared nothing. 

It simply wasn’t in his blood; not his staunchly machismo upbringing, nor in his DNA, quite literally having that of a lion. Fear made one weak. Fear made you less of a man. Fear was what killed his mother. 

If anything, fear was just another animal; ready to be captured, killed and conquered, ultimately destined to be draped across his chiselled body or mounted on a wall.  

You were simply no different. 

He never really understood why people were afraid of spiders, but he knew that they were a nuisance, having haunted him since he was a boy. Spiders weren’t savages like lions or bears, but they were sneaky; crawling around in the dark and waiting to strike, with a face so obscured that you’d never really know what you were looking at...what they were thinking.  

But now, with your mask off, he could see you clearly. Fear; clouding your eyes and consuming your lungs as you heaved, choking on the intensity of the emotion itself as your pupils darted between the beige, bloodied teeth on his necklace and a crossbow pointed right at your heart. 

“So, you’re the insect causing me all this trouble?” the man mused; legs crossed upon a desk as he eyed you. “I should’ve known.” 

“Should’ve known what? You know nothing about me.”  

“You’re a girl.” 

“Sexist, much.” 

He chuckled. 

“Far from it. My father, however, was quite the traditionalist. He would’ve done much worse by now.” 

There was a heavy silence as you swiped at your bottom lip. Much to your dismay, blood had begun to dry, and you were left with a salty, scratchy throat. Liquid, some of any kind, would’ve been appreciated, but you knew all too well that Kraven wasn’t one for showing mercy. Like all the villains you’d encountered, you’d had a push-pull relationship with the Hunter since the very beginning. He created a plan; you foiled it, sometimes you’d get your ass beat but the ending was almost always the same – with you safe from harm's way, and a bloodthirsty ego chipped away, but momentarily put to rest. 

On this occasion you’d slipped up, your Spidey-senses failing you and placing you right into harm's way, shipped into the back of a van and somehow escorted to a somewhat uncharacteristically lavish mansion.  

You'd always found Kraven to be a man of contradictions; whether he realised it or not. He was the best and worst of both worlds, a hunter with all the grit of someone who’d been fighting their entire life as a poverty-stricken rogue, and yet you’d come to learn that he was a Russian aristocrat, hence his rather extensive knowledge and unrelenting desire for control. Still, nothing took away from the fact that he was a brute, not even his strikingly good looks. 

“Just shoot me and be over it,” You continued, watching as he lowered his feet from atop the desk and strolled over to you.  “You didn’t need to drag me all the way here.” 

He looked even bigger than usual, but perhaps it was because you were perched uncomfortably on a chair, arms bound behind you as you craned your neck to look up at him. Your mind couldn’t - no, didn’t - want to fathom what he was thinking of you from this angle. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I care nothing about your secret. I just wanted to look you in the eye.” He mused, rummaging through his back pockets. Your breath hitched in your throat as he slid a knife from its sheath, finely carved and sharpened and lowered it to his side before pacing around you, stopping as his firm torso pressed up against the tip of your neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, you braced for your neck to be split open, only to be released from your bounds.  

Instinctively, you went to shoot some webs, hoping you could at least catapult yourself across the room, but he tightly grasped your wrists, steadying your arms in place.  

“I wouldn’t try anything if I were you,” he sneered. “These are antiques.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Get up,” he announced suddenly, almost dragging you to your feet. Hesitantly, you began to shuffle out of the room, overwhelmed by the seemingly endless walls and corridors, all framed in ivory and the finest mahogany. “Keep walking until I tell you to stop.” 

You continued down the hall, opting for a straight line. It seemed to be the correct way as once you passed into the threshold of a room that had a velvet chaise lounges and a dresser, he dropped his hands from their grip on your own, closing the door behind you. Oddly enough, you never heard the click of a latch. 

Without a word, he walked past you to open the drawer, rummaging through the contents. It utterly baffled you why you didn’t feel the urge to protest, or even fight. The entire ordeal was feeling more like a glorified house tour with a side of intimidation rather than a future crime scene. 

Was it because he was handsome? Wild? Filthy rich? Whatever happened to your values? Perhaps Jameson was right.  

Your thoughts were interrupted by the man placing something in the desk, curling his finger to beckon you towards him.  

“See this? This is what keeps me going,”he said, rolling a vial of florescent liquid in his fingertips.  “You and I are more alike than you think.” 

You scoffed, trying to ignore how close he was to you. He had an earthly musk that invaded your senses, sending tingles down your spine… and to your core. 

“I don’t need a drug to do what I do.” 

“Never mind the drug. It’s our blood that makes us strong.” 

You cocked a brow and he ignored your confused look. 

“You know, I’ve always hated spiders…” he began, rubbing his beard in contemplation.  “Too itchy; unpredictable. You never really know where they’re going to show up. If I ever saw one, I used to pop them like a zit.” 

There was a clear disgust in his words and vacant look in his eye that sunk you into a pit of fear for perhaps the first time since regaining your consciousness. You knew that it was just about you (surely), but perhaps a weird extension of your being; something bigger, far more innate than a girl in a spandex spider suit. 

“But then I realised that for their size, they’re deadly. Powerful, even. Recently I’ve wondered what it would look like if I harnessed it myself.” 

You swallowed, suddenly conscious of your dry throat once more. 

“A drop of blood usually does the trick.” 

He tutted. Perhaps you were being too fickle. 

“No, любимец [darling], not that way. I crave something more.” 

Your eyes darted to the lounge. Since when did Spider-Woman lack composure? Kraven’s impenetrable gaze followed your own, and he chuckled knowingly. 

“With your arachnid abilities and my strength, we could create something truly unique. Nature has its ways, you know.” 

“You’re sick,” you replied, your chin held high but your bottom lip wobbled. “I’ll never join you. What you do is immoral.” 

Kraven furrowed his brows. 

“You killed a man, and you talk about morality?” 

“He was a bad man.” 

“He was my brother.” 

The word humanised him a bit. The Chameleon wasn’t your most imposing foe, but he was still a challenge you’d been rather glad to conquer. It was all too often that you’d fallen into the trap of thinking that the world was black and white; good and bad, when occasionally it was grey. Kraven was allowed to grieve his brother, but at the end of the day they were both bad guys. 

Then why did he turn you on so much? 

“You don’t have to resist,” the man grinned, strolling towards you. He stopped, glancing down and reaching a hand up to cup the sides of your face, caressing your cheekbones and sides of your lip with his thumb, threatening to penetrate your mouth. “I’ve never been this close to you before…I can smell you.” 

You were both superhuman, but he had the thirst of a predator. Quite literally. Breath hitched in your throat as he angled his lips to your ear, whispering a few fatal words. 

“Give in, маленький паучок [little spider]. Your body yearns for me.” 

One large hand was wrapped around your neck as he kissed you, his wild beard scratching against your face as his other hand snaked down your suit, down to between your thighs. The latex did nothing to offer you safety, his callouses prodding at your wet slit and beginning to rub in small circles, oh-so internationally slow, making sure he pressed against the hood of your clit. 

He had you as soon as a small moan escaped your lips. It’d been a while since you’d been touched, let a alone by someone who was as well-travelled as The Hunter himself, and every kiss, nibble and squeeze was sending you into a deeper spiral of lust and guilt that you could barely fathom that you’d already made your way to the lounge. 

You pulled away as your calves collided with the frame, lips wet and parted as you glanced up at him – wholly helplessly. His hand remained firm on your face, angling his head as he smirked at your shielded demeanour, a far cry from the flashy superhero you’d been but an hour ago.  

“Kra—“ 

“Don’t call me that,” he said through gritted teeth. “Call me Sergei. I need to hear you say it.” 

The name rolled from your lips as a cry as he bunched the sides of your suit in his hands and tearing it apart, exposing your bare pussy and ass, with strands of fabric shaping your legs like a makeshift garter. He grinned, large hands frantically groping at your thighs and ass, spreading your cheeks apart and exposing your hot core to the cool air. 

“прекрасный.” [Gorgeous] he moaned, swatting at your ass before dipping his fingers inside you, rubbing your folds between his fingers as you coated him in your juices. Grasping your hands around his thick neck, you clung onto what you could as he explored your body, lowering you down onto the smooth velvet. 

It wasn’t long before he straddled you, holding your body down with his pelvis as he removed his jacket, giving you an eyeful of his crafted torso. Unsurprisingly, he had the body of a God, with a prominent v-line and happy trail pointing down to between his legs. Even through his heavy trousers you could make out his bulge, mounded and ready for you. 

You gasped in anticipation, watching as the man withdrew his cock from his briefs; red and girthy, with precum spilling from his tip. Skilfully, he spread your thighs, making sure they were safely by your sides (he’d seen how flexible you were, your ankles touching your ears was nothing) and lifting your lower back slightly off the cushions, pushing into you with a deep sigh. 

At first, his intrusion was a dull ache, but as he began to move his hips against your own you felt utterly fulfilled, moaning and writhing as he wasted no time in daggering your wanting pussy, making sure you felt every inch.  

“Sergei...” you cried, eyes fluttering shut as you flung your head back in pleasure. “Please...” 

“Say it again.” 

Words evaded you. 

The man grinned, flashing his canines as he tightened his grip, compelling him to fuck you harder. The whole ordeal was obscene; New York’s most treasured hero being bent into submission by the villain of the week, a scene so heinous that it was all the more endearing, and with every thrust you knew you wanted him more. Sergei didn’t care whether his combat boots scuffed the fine upholstery, or if his grip on your waist would leave a few bruises – he just wanted to own you. 

He huffed as his heavy balls slammed repeatedly against your crack, beginning to bottom out in you with every hit, so much so that it looked like you were conjoined.

Even through the strain in your legs you could tell you were close, knots in your stomach slowly beginning to unravel as your walls clenched around him, earning a delighted rumble from deep within his chest. 

You knew that he wasn’t one for talk, but you would’ve appreciated the warning that he was about to come. Every guy you’d been with tended to get sloppier, but he grew stronger, the literal animal in him taking over as he began to ramble and curse through gritted teeth in Russian.  

Sergei threw his head back as he held you down, hands pawing your breasts and strands of hair sprawled in a beautiful mess across his face as he came, ropes of hot white cum spilling into your pussy just as you dressed his cock in a silky sheen. Your chests heaved as you desperately tried to come down from your high, glancing down at your messy nether regions as his seed began to seep out of you.  

There was no going back. Nine months began now. 

Would it really be all that bad? 

It all went back to fear, really. In the back of his mind the thought of a spider still troubled Sergei, but at least he’d conquered it. Even if it was temporary. 

FIN. 

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Wassup y'all, I'm back from lowkey radio silence with another hot take.

I've been trying to figure out lately why my multishipper ass dislikes a lot of ships within the fandom- more specifically a lot of greaser/soc pairings, and I realised at the core of it it's because there is no conceivable universe where they work without completely changing canon or the personalities of the characters. or at the very least their loyalties and motivations. Narratively, the novel is very clear about this, it even throws Marbit in our faces to prove it, showing (greaser) Two-bit his absolute dream girl who is beautiful and fun and likes him too , and yet is forever unattainable because she's a soc.

"Oh but Lovely, you ship Marbit! And you've written Parry! Obviously you're just hating on our ships."

No, I'm not. I very specifically DON'T hate on any ship, because that makes fandom less fun and more toxic and that is the LAST thing I want to do and because everyone deserves to have their blorbos and their ships that make them happy, I'm not here to yuck anyone's yum. And I realise my claiming I can't see greaser/soc pairings and using Marbit as an example of why while also actively shipping them looks very hypocritical. That said, I ship both Marbit and Parry in a very specific way, that would work canon compliantly, or at the absolute minimum still within canon verse without changing the tensions or the history between the east side and the west wide, or the characters as people.

Do I think Marbit could work in canon (in a post canon verse)? Absolutely I do- but not with Marcia staying a soc, or (more unlikely) Two-bit staying a greaser. If it's going to work- and I think it will because they are each others person, in any universe, whether it works or not- then Marcia either needs to fully acccept that the man she's in love with is a greaser and will always be a greaser, he is from the east side, and he has nothing set up in terms of a future, and no family money to keep him safe and sheltered. She needs to accept it, and accept Two-bit in the process, and embrace a life where she is ok with it being her future, particularly if she and Two-bit ever want to date in the open, and definitely if they ever want to get married. If Marcia wants Two-bit she needs to be prepared for the judgment she will face from her peers for marrying a man so far 'beneath' her, has to be prepared for potentially being disowned/cut off by her parents, needs to be okay with the realities of east side life becoming her reality. In a slightly different reality, Two-bit needs to be prepared for marrying Marcia meaning he needs to clean up his act, needs to realise it will entail being forever looked down on by her family and friends (if they stay in contact), be prepared for Marcia's parents to pull some strings and get him a decent job, not a soc level one but one available to the upper middle class and definitely not poor kids. If Two wants Marcia he needs to recognise that it will mean no more petty thieving and no more booze and being viewed as a class traitor by the majority of his neighbourhood. In either version he has to be ready to deal with the people who will tell him he's ruining Marcia' life, that he dragged her away from her life and her potential, will perhaps have to grapple with those feelings even if they come from no one but himself.

But I still could see them working in canon, and working as themselves, but their relationship would always be affected by soc and greaser dynamics and if they work out, one of them will forever be viewed as a class traitor, and it will absolutely not be smooth sailing no matter how much they love each other.

Parry is a little bit different, but it's still a greaser/soc ship I could see fitting in canon, or in universe without egregiously changing the characters or class tensions, and a big part of why is because it's a clandestine relationship that is doomed from the start, and is doomed in every universe. It's a first love, a secret gay relationship between teenage hypermasculine football players in the 60s. Here, class tensions probably caused tension in the relaionship, but outside pressures would be less because Darry was well liked by even the rich kids and known to be going places, and also because the relationship itself never saw the light of day. The reason I ship Parry but only when they're doomed is because it very obviously could happen: Darry could kiss Paul in secret and still be a greaser loyal to this neighbourhood, and Paul could snog Darry and still be an upstanding upper class golden boy without looking like he's punching down, because no one knew they were dating in the first place. They could have truly loved each other when they were together and in canon it means nothing except the fact that their fight was a bit more personal than any other at the rumble, because neither of them ever intended for their relationship to be anything but a secret. They knew it would never be real in the sense they could have a life together, so it fits in canon because they characters were only ever going to be themselves, and as themselves their social classes make it so they are fundamentally incompatible, even if homophobia wasn't a barrier that it so obviously would have been. Darry and Paul work as a plausible couple because they never plausibly would have ever made a go of a serious relationship, and they both know it.

"Oh but Lovely," you say "by that logic any greaser/soc gay ship works in canon verse or canon adjacent verse. You should be able to see/ship any of them." To which I say no, not necessarily. First of all, not every queer person throughout history was okay with having a secret relationship- quiet ones sure, but gay people had 'roommates' in the sixties, and i think textually there is a lot of evidence to support that the majority of the Outsiders characters, were they queer, would not be particularly interested in being anyone's dirty little secret. And even if that weren't the case, and they'd be fine with a secret relationship, the fact remains that the greasers and the socs don't like each other. In fact, they canonically despise each other to the point where violence between the groups is commonplace. Darry was in a very unique position as captain of the football team and boy of the year, to form a connection with Paul that would be able to blossom into romance. He had a level of comfort and familiarity with the socs that the vast majority of the greasers don't have, and would never attempt to or even want to attain. The average greaser sees the socs as a danger and the reason they always get the short end of the stcik, and the average soc sees the greasers as ruffians and thugs, dirt under their shoes that belongs there. Yes, the book makes the point that all people are just people, but from what we see textually the chances of a greaser and a soc- particularly of the same gender- getting close enough to form a romantic attachment is slim to none unless both sides got really cool with a bunch of stuff really quickly after the rumble.

ANWAY if anyone is still here thank you for listening to my rambly unedited thoughts from 2am, these are my reasons for not shipping the majority of greaser/soc pairs, I hope they make sense

[spotaus]

Late Night quick thing (New Age Sillies)

Bad news: That joke post about including Reset + Orchid is definitely not canon. (I legit got sad thinking about Reset being in a universe where Orchid isn't- because their stories are so so intertwined- but Nightmare 100% would NOT risk the whole twins exploding Error's soul thing.)

Good news: This means I COULD include Kane (Reset's older brother who usually dies in timelines where Reset is born) and use it to develope his character a bit more! Also! Perhaps a Blue × Dream kiddo is finally in the stars for me to design?

[chocolilies]

─── messy sheets. ꒱

( ୨ৎ. roronoa zoro x fem!reader. . .ᐟ

one of zoro's many favourite things about dating you is how you pick up on each other's mannerisms.

◟ꪆ୧ nsfw (afab!reader, thigh riding, groping, fingering) porn with a tiny bit of plot, though the plot is mostly fluffy! based on this request! spreading my titty fiend!zoro agenda... reblogs and comments are appreciated a lot!! (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾∇⁠＾) !

w.c : 3.2k.

also on ao3 + op masterlist !

“don’t ever come back here again!”

“you don't own the ship, asshole! I'll go wherever I want!”

dodging a kitchen knife, zoro slammed the door to the galley shut, stomping down the corridor as anger seethed through him. 

“can’t even get a drink in peace,” zoro growled as he clutched at one of his swords, pushing open the door to your room, having half the mind to turn back around and slice the cook up a bit until he set eyes on your bed. 

he found you sprawled out horizontally over the covers, one of his too-big-for-you shirts pulled over your sleeping body, head falling off of one of the pillows, while you hugged the other tight against your chest. 

now, one thing zoro loved about dating you was seeing just how much you influenced each other. 

when you’d both first joined luffy’s crew, you’d snap and whine at him for napping at the most random intervals of time, kicking him awake or simply complaining very loudly with nami about how he used his free time, driving the swordsman up the walls. 

yet after all that time spent grumbling about his sleeping habits before you’d gotten together (and maybe a bit more after that), here you were. messily spread out on your shared bed with drool running down your chin, taking one of those naps you once objected so much against. 

he held in a laugh, his tiff with the cook fizzling away in his mind as he took in your sleeping figure, the light from the afternoon sun shining into the room and hitting you in an almost angelic way, which for zoro, you were nothing but. 

he carefully propped up his swords against the wall, shaking his shoes off before silently moving towards what you’d both silently agreed on was his side of the bed, though thanks to the way you had moved around in your bed, were now occupied by your bare legs. 

zoro had once heard about how you moved around a lot during your sleep, having heard nami’s complaints about your sleepy kicks or slaps back when you used to share a bed with her, always laughing loudly at the way you would shy away from her in embarrassment, unaware of how squirmy you were asleep. 

surprisingly enough, though, the moment you started to sleep alongside zoro, you stopped moving. maybe it was because of his incredible pain tolerance (since one slap from you would hardly register as painful) that your movements didn’t stir him awake, or maybe it was because of the unyielding grip he had on you the moment his arms found your wriggly body. 

he found it hilarious that it was the latter. 

zoro carefully took both of your ankles in one hand, pushing your legs and subsequently moving your body so you were lying in a more “appropriate” manner, though considering the many times he’d ended up horizontal on a bed, he shouldn't really be judging. 

once he’d made enough space for himself, he let go, kneeling on the mattress before pulling his shirt and haramaki off, polloping himself down on the bed as soon as he’d flung them across the room (something he knew he’d get reprimanded for later).

a grunt left him as he tried to get comfortable, arms immediately spread out instinctively to find your body, wrapping them around your waist and dragging you across the already messy covers into his chest. 

you let out a whine as the rough movements forced you to let go of the pillow you’d been cuddling, though seemed to immediately calm down once you subconsciously realised whose arms you were now in. 

“messy girl,” zoro murmured as he looked around the state your bed’s covers were in after what he assumed had been less than an hour (he clearly recalled you screaming at luffy for something or other a bit before he’d wandered into the kitchen), craning his head so he could press a sloppy kiss against your cheek. “mean, too. napping without me…”

he adjusted the arm underneath you so it was right against your neck, not wanting for you to grow uncomfortable with it digging into your waist, watching as you immediately rested your head against his warm bicep, letting out a soft noise of content. 

his other arm, though, had completely other plans. he moved it from its place around your waist, dragging his hand underneath the oversized shirt of his you’d stolen, placing his warm palm right above the elastic band of your panties, chuckling as your body shivered in response. 

one thing you'd quickly learned about zoro the moment you'd started dating was that he loved your tits. 

he'd once “joked” about throwing all of your bras overboard one day in which you'd walked out of your room without one, eyes trained to your chest each time you walked by, not shying away from showing his attraction to you in that state, though you (and everyone else who had heard his proclamation) knew he was fully capable of doing it. 

zoro's hands were on you every chance you got, taking your tits into his hands and squeezing like they were stress balls, thumb and index slowly working on your pebbling nipples, chin perched on your shoulder and just watching, never making a sound except for the sighs or grunts that would leave him in response to your own whimpering noises. 

sometimes it wasn't even sexual. sometimes he just found comfort in groping you, playing with the flesh as you say in his lap working on something or as a stress reliever after a particularly gruelling battle. 

this, he thought as slid one of his legs between yours, was not one of those times. 

zoro leaned down to press kisses to the exposed skin of your shoulder, leading a trail right up to the spot behind your ear, smirking as you shivered in response to the soft blow of air from his breathing. 

“...’ro.” you mumbled sleepily, hand moving to cover the one that had started playing with your tummy, stirring awake due to his movements, completely different to how zoro could sleep through wars if he wished to. 

“mornin’,” he joked breathlessly into your ear, deciding to continue teasing as he nibbled at your ear lobe, making you squeak and try to move away. “hey, hey, stop moving.” 

“stop bitin’!” you slurred out tiredly, swatting at his face with a huff, knowing it was probably pulled into an annoyingly smug look. 

“can't… ‘specially not when you look this cute in my shirt, all sleepy…” 

“you get turned on by the weirdest things…” you groaned, already feeling his hand start to move up your abdomen, going directly towards his two favourite things. 

his teeth immediately sunk into your neck in response to your little insult, taking advantage of your body's natural reaction to the pain to finally grab at your tits, tugging at your nipple almost immediately, his other arm moving from the position he'd previously put it in to grab at your other tit, not wanting to leave out any of your two girls.

“you’re so pervy, zo… y’re no better than-” your words were cut off as you moaned out in surprise at the immediate attack on your slowly pebbling nipples, the action sending shockwaves through your body, arms lying stiff at your side as you tried to decide what do with your hands, teasing words fizzling away in your mind, too busy enjoying the way your boyfriend was massaging your chest. 

“don't.” zoro growled into your ear with a pinch to your nipples, a high pitched whine leaving your mouth at the little retaliation, knowing full well what was about to leave your mouth, not wanting to think about the perv-cook when he was in the middle of playing with his girl's tits. 

“m-meanie…” you gasped, back arching at the slight pain that accompanied the pleasure that rushed through your body at his actions, feeling the leg that he'd slipped between your own start to move, the coarse material of his trousers along with the pressure of his thigh pressing tight against your panty-clad core. 

“yeah? ‘m just a big meanie?” zoro grunted, licking at the spot he'd previously sunk his teeth in, slowly but surely moving his thigh back and forth, loving the way your tiny frame jumped and shivered at every stimulation he gave. 

“y-yeah-” breathlessly, you started to move down to meet the movements of his stiff thigh, muscles rippling between your legs despite the little effort it took for him to move like this in comparison to you, who was already growing tired from the constant movements without the help like you usually had. 

“this is me being nice,” he licked a stripe up your neck to the spot behind your ear, where he pressed a very uncharacteristically sweet kiss to, your mind flowing with confusion as to how he could focus on kissing, groping and grinding into you all at once. 

well, considering you were dealing with a man who fought with three swords, you shouldn't be surprised at his dexterity. 

each movement of his thigh against where you needed him most sent waves of pleasure through your tired body, and you could anxiously tell that you were leaving a damp spot on his trousers by the way you were dripping, your boyfriend's ministrations enough to get your pussy soaked. 

it also didn't help that each time he pulled his leg forward, his knee would bump against your already throbbing clit, sending shockwaves up your spine and forcing whines out of your wet lips, saliva pooling in your mouth and threatening to slide down your chin like it previously had been doing during your nap. 

“y’really don't want me to be mean,” he taunted, leaving more kisses across the expanse of skin his too-big shirt exposed for him to touch, fingers letting go of your already abused nipples, a sigh of relief leaving your parted lips at that, focusing instead on groping at the rest.

at your lack of response, zoro grinned, basking in the sounds you were making before he slid his leg out of yours, not missing the way they immediately tried to press down onto it, a horrified sound leaving you at the sudden lack of pleasure. 

“z-zo!” you exclaimed, trying to turn around to look at him, but by the way he had you pressed tightly against, you found that movement to be impossible. “wh-what was that for?” 

your whines were music to his ears, ignoring the way you were squirming in his arms, though his hands continued to play with your tits. “what was what for?” 

he acted like he hadn't just put a pin in your pleasure, instead moving to grind his front against your backside, evidence of his growing pleasure pressing into your ass. 

“mean enough for you now?” 

you whined at his taunt, a gasp escaping you as one of his hands let go of your tits, confusion filling you as to what that lonely hand would be getting up to. 

“‘m sorry!” you whined, finding it slightly ridiculous that you were apologising for simply implying that your boyfriend was being mean, though you would've done anything to get that beautiful pleasure back. “please- please…” 

“please what?” you could hear the smirk in his voice, though by the way his hand was already trailing down your stomach towards your soaked cunt, you knew you wouldn't have to do any more begging except to please him. 

“touch- touch me, pleaseee…” you begged, even though his index and middle finger were already teasing the spot right above your clit, tracing the soft texture of your panties, trying to discern which pair you'd worn that day. 

“there's my girl.” he grinned, pride filling him up as he finally got that initial brattiness out of you, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek as his fingers went up to the elastic band of your underwear, reaching his hand under it and running over your pubic hair, fingers sliding right between your soppy folds. 

your breath hitched in your throat as he immediately found your tiny bundle of nerves, already an expert on how your body worked and what you needed from him, rubbing slow circles into it like he knew you liked, a sharp contrast to the way he'd previously been grinding his leg against it. 

your legs twitched with every movement, your pleasure picking up from where he'd left off, tummy growing warm as he toyed with you, and though you could feel yourself slowly making your way up to your orgasm, you knew zoro wouldn't let you cum just like that. 

“shit, she's a messy girl, jus’ listen to her…” he murmured, referring to the sounds your cunt was making with every move of his finger, adding a second one in hopes that the cacophony of sounds would increase. 

“don't teaseee…” you drawled out, lolling your head back against his shoulder as he peppered kisses all over you, sliding his fingers around the erogenous zones around your clit, sparking pleasure all over you. 

“‘m not teasing.” he grunted, his hips jerking slightly to make contact with your ass, rubbing his erection against you in tandem with his own fingers, though still completely zeroed in on your pleasure. “I jus’ know what she wants.” 

you puffed out your cheeks, though whatever you were about to snap back died in your throat as he finally slid his fingers down to your soaked entrance, teasingly running his fingers around the ring of muscles. 

“fuck, y’feel tight.” zoro groaned, the heel of his palm pressing right into your clit, stimulating your little nub with each twitch of his fingers. 

“gonna fuck me open?” you jeered, out of breath at the continuous amount of pleasure being forced onto your sleepy body, another wave of slick leaving your cunt at the thought of getting fucked. 

“fuck, I wish…” zoro rasped, cock twitching against your back at the shared idea, shaking his head slightly, too comfortable in this position to move around. “not today, though. ‘m just enjoying playing with your little cunt for now.”

he slipped his middle finger into your hole before you could even reply, though he knew you had no qualms with his reply, always admiring his hands and exclaiming how much you loved having them on your pussy. 

his finger immediately found your g-spot, arching it to rub against the spongy spot that made your toes curl, palm still grinding against your clit deliciously. 

“s-so good!” you cried out, one of your hands grabbing at the arm he'd shoved down your panties, nails digging into his tanned skin in pleasure, though no pain registered, too busy playing with your cunt to focus on it. 

“yeah? ‘course it is, it's me.” he said, ego inflating at his own words as you twitched in his arms, slipping another finger into your tight heat to join the attack on your g-spot, his other hand still playing with your tit, warm pleasure building up in your tummy as he worked you out. “‘know you better than anyone.” 

fuck, it almost pissed you off how right he was. 

“no one like me, right?” 

“no one!” you cried out on instinct, moving your hips in tandem with his hand, amplifying the rising pleasure and grinding back on his stiff cock at the same time. “only one for me, zo!”

“atta fucking girl.” he spat out, breathless from the possessive talk and the own pleasure that was rushing through his body, pre leaking from his tip and forming a wet patch against his trousers. “y’close?” 

“mhm!” you shook your head up and down aggressively, moans and whines tumbling out of your mouth as you neared your peak, hand pulling at zoro's arm to alert him of it and ask that- 

“I got you, don't worry.” he sighed, knowing what you wanted before you even said it out loud, pulling his fingers out of you with a loud squelch, pressing his wet fingers against your clit like you wanted and rubbing quick circles onto it, your legs shaking as your hips tried to keep up with the sudden switch in stimulation, though thankful for the help, as it was what you needed to get where you wanted to the most. 

“fu-fuck, zoro! m’so close!” 

zoro knew what that meant. already too familiar with your body and your needs, he knew that that meant to continue whatever he was doing. not to speed up, not to slow down, not to switch techniques, just keep doing what was making his girl scream. 

“it's okay, I got you,” he almost purred, grip tightening on your tit as his hips jutted out to search for stimulation on his leaking cock, although he knew he'd probably be able to cum just by witnessing your orgasm alone. 

“oh god, oh god-” zoro grunted at your words, knowing that he'd usually let out a teasing ‘god’s not fucking you this good, baby’, at your whiny words, smirking as you immediately changed your tune. “zoro! oh, zoro, zoro!

your mouth flew open in a silent scream as you finally reached your peak, riding out your orgasm with help of zoro's fingers, that were quickly covered in slick by the way you'd came, soaking both his hand and your panties, probably even leaking onto the already messy covers. 

you whined as the hand that had been groping you moved to grab at your neck, moving your head painfully to a side so zoro could slot his lips against yours, drinking up your moans and whimpers as you swapped spit, eyes wide open and taking in the way you were falling apart on his fingers. 

you quickly found yourself twitching in overestimation once your orgasm washed away, whining into zoro's mouth, a telltale sign to slowly stop his ministrations. 

“hey, hey…” he shushed you as he leaned back, letting you lie down properly as he propped himself up on the bed, watching you shiver in the aftershocks of your orgasm as he pulled his fingers back from your perky clit, leaning back down quickly to press a kiss between your furrowed brows. “y’okay?” 

you hummed in response, cracking your eyes open to take a look at your grinning boyfriend, his face flushed and sweaty as his chest rose and fell with each quick breath, almost like he'd- 

“zo, just by-?”

“just by seeing you, yeah.” he exhaled, eyes flicking down to his bulge, cock softening against his trousers as he himself came down from his high, bringing the fingers he'd used on you up to his mouth and licking them clean, eyes darting around the room as if he wasn't in the middle of licking your juices off his fingers. 

“don't goooooo…” you whined, knowing he was probably looking for the closest thing he could use to clean you up, much rather preferring cuddles with your boyfriend to a dry cunt. 

you outstretched your arms out to him and made grabby hands, watching as he grinned in response to your need actions, landing on top of you with a grunt and resting his head right on the tits he'd previously been attacking. 

“brute!” you gasped, hands finding solace in his hair and running through his green strands, pouting down at your boyfriend. 

“mmm… next time don't let me suck your tits, unless you wanna see a real brute.” 

[revasserium]

can i have one were zoro realises she does things bc of truama (like doesnt speak much etc)

hold me (still)

opla!zoro; 6,680 words; slow!!!!burn, fem!reader, ex-assassin!reader, straw hat!reader, general tragic backstory/trauma, fluff, hurt/comfort, bit of angst, emotionally constipated zoro, communication? what's that?, nami playing therapist bc she's the only one with 1 iota of emotional intelligence

summary: sometimes, stillness is a virtue, and others -- a tragedy. or, in which the straw hats pick up a new member and zoro is equally intrigued and weirded out by you.

a/n: well. you guys asked for slow burn and... the burn is so slow u gotta squint to see the smoke yall. but trust. the burn does get there! pls be patient!! and i tried to combine 2 dif reqs in this one fic :)

You are of the quiet sort. Just a shadow dancing in the periphery of their vision, and when they first met you, you’d told them it was your superpower, a soft, still smile slipping across your lips. Luffy had bought into it immediately, and the invitation was out his mouth before anyone could stop him.

“Come with us!”

“Oh…” your lips pressed into a thin line of consideration.

Zoro’s fingers itched towards his swords because something about you makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. But something else — something uncomfortable and strange, something very much like curiosity — seizes his chest and twists his stomach. Strange, he thinks, too strange.

“C’mon! It’ll be fun!”

And then, you’d smiled wider, and nodded, and that had been that.

It’s been three months since then, and you are still of the quiet sort, though it had receded a bit with time. What with Sanji’s gentle flirting and Usopp’s not-so-gentle stories and Nami’s bright, dry-humored companionship, you’d begun to “open up a bit”, so Luffy observed.

Zoro, for his part, has kept his distance. Because sometimes he still catches you at the bow of the ship, staring out across the midnight waters, still as a stone-carved statue. Still as a wooden beam — stiller, even.

“What’s with that?” he asks one day, strolling up to Nami as she traces a fine line over a new map she’s working on.

“Hm?” is her very eloquent response.

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth and casts his eyes about the ship, finding them drawn to the shape of you, up at the bow again, reading in the shade of the tangerine trees. Nothing moves except for the wind as it whisps through your hair and the slow scanning of your eyes as it skates across the page.

“New girl,” Zoro says, crossing his arms as Nami finally looks up at him and then off towards you.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Zoro lets out a puff of breath, unfolding his arms to glare at Nami. He finds her grinning a lopsided grin as she clicks shut her compass and puts down her pen. She leans a hip on the barrel she’d been drawing on and folds her own arms.

“Oh, you like her.”

“I’m weirded out by her. ‘S not the same thing,” Zoro snaps, but when he tries to leave, Nami blocks him with an arm and pins him with a sharp, leveling look.

“No, no, no — we’re gonna work this through.”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

“Uh-uh, you still owe me after that round of drinks the other night — remember when you bet you could drink more than me?”

Zoro narrows his eyes, “I did drink more than you.”

Nami’s grin is gleeful, “No, you didn’t. You had to be dragged back to your room after clogging up the toilet. Or do I need to show you the evidence —”

“Alright — fuck, fine. But really? This is what you’re gonna waste your favor on? You could’ve asked me to —” Zoro gestures around vaguely, “clean the bilge or something.”

Nami shrugs, looking almost too pleased, “Nope! This is what I wanna use my favor for. And, really, you think a bit of bilge water is gonna gross me out? C’mon.”

Zoro heaves a sigh and leans back against the main mast, closing his eyes.

“Fine then. Go.”

Nami sits back on the edge of the barrel.

“No, you go. Admit that you like the new girl.”

“I don’t.” He doesn’t open his eyes.

“I’ve seen you staring at her. We’ve all seen you staring at her.”

“What, that a crime now?”

Nami fights the urge to roll her eyes, “No, but I’ve never seen you try so hard to avoid someone before.”

Zoro lets out a bark of laughter, hard and mirthless, “Yeah, so that must mean I like her.”

Nami cocks her head, “It means you feel something towards her. And I’d suggest you figure it out.”

“And how’d you propose I do that?”

Nami once again waves in your direction, “Go. Talk. To her.”

Zoro lets out another breath, eyes scanning across the ship, anywhere but towards where you’re still sitting and reading, finger flipping a page in a perfect, smooth, singular motion.

And Zoro’s not blind. Blunt though he may be at times and careless as he is about most material things, he can still appreciate beauty when he sees it. And you — there’s no denying that you’re beautiful. Your strange stillness aside, when you do move, it’s with a dancer’s lissome grace, fluid lines, not a single movement wasted. When you smile, it seems to light you up from the inside, and your words, though soft, carries the well-worn weight of river stones, glittering beneath the clear, spring stream of your voice.

There’s a sharpness in your eyes, a straightness to your spine, a way of carrying yourself as if you’re afraid that one wrong move might shatter you and the entire world around you.

Sometimes when he sees you, he wonders at the hands that had sculpted you this way. He wonders at your life before they’d picked you up in Loguetown, when you’d oh-so-silently slipped up the execution platform and helped Luffy down, all the while staying free of Smoker’s watchful gaze.

The few times he’s seen you fight, he can’t help wondering if you’ve eaten some kind of devil fruit as well. No human could be so fast as that. Or be so quiet. But then again, he’d fought Kuro, and they’d seen stranger things. Still, he marvels at the way you flicker in and out of sight, slipping around the edges of battle like a dark, haunting thing, and men would drop like flies beneath your quick, quiet hands. With nary a sound or shout before their eyes roll back and their breathing is no more.

On the instances when Sanji had asked about your past, your eyes had gone misty and dark, unfocused. You’d gone still, freezing for so long that Usopp would cough just to fill the silence. And then slowly, ever so slowly, you’d turn back towards them with a small, sad smile and say:

“There’s… not much to talk about. I grew up somewhere far away, where if you didn’t keep quiet and still, bad things would happen to you. And then when those bad things happened, if you weren’t quick — the quickest of all, you’d die.”

Bad things, huh? Zoro thinks as he makes his way towards you, a hand resting on the hilt of his swords. He comes to a stop next to you and leans against one of the white planters, casually peering over your shoulder at the book in your hands.

For a long moment, neither of you move. Then, Zoro clears his throat and forces himself to speak.

“Is it good?”

It takes you a second, but eventually, you turn towards him.

“The book? Yeah, I suppose.”

“Not exactly a glowing review.”

You laugh, a soft, breathy little thing as you look back down at the page.

“It's about a girl who falls into an enchanted sleep, and a prince who wakes her up with a kiss.”

“Must’ve been one hell of a kiss.”

“Yes, and one hell of a prince.”

Zoro finds himself chuckling, his shoulders loosening as he takes another breath.

“And then what?” he asks.

“And then… he asks her to marry him.”

You run your fingers along the page, smoothing your palm over the ink and parchment. Zoro watches you, wondering, always wondering.

“What’s she say?” and it’s then that he notices his own voice, hushed and low, barely a whisper.

You look back up at him and smile a smile a sphynx would have been proud of.

“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten there yet.”

Zoro takes a breath, and the breath tastes distinctly different than all the breaths he’d taken before it. As if the world takes the breath with him, and some fundamental truth had shifted on the exhale.

The moment breaks, as moments are wont to do, when Sanji calls out for lunch and Zoro jerks out of his almost-reverie. You slowly close your book and rise to your feet, turning back to smile at him.

“C’mon, it’s lunchtime.”

Zoro nods and follows you into the kitchen, where Luffy and Usopp are already digging in, and Nami is pouring herself a drink. She spots the pair of you and catches Zoro’s eyes. A grin ticks at the edge of her lips but before she can say anything, you’re accosted by Sanji sweeping into a deep, flourishing bow, and ushering you towards the table, where he’d set your place in a manner fit for a princess.

“Where’s my setup?” Zoro asks as he drops into the seat next to you, cocking an eyebrow. Sanji shoots him an unimpressed look.

“I’m surprised you can use a fork and knife, moss-head. Just be grateful and eat up.”

Zoro scoffs but digs in nonetheless.

When next they dock, it’s on a rare, peaceful island — an island of light and books and learning, where the air smells of salt and ink and drying parchment, of unwritten words and untold stories. But it smells of a stillness too, and Zoro knows without having to ask that you’d like it here.

And you do.

He’s never seen you smile so much, never seen you so vibrant and full of life. You chat and laugh and read with a voracious hunger, and he finds himself drawn to this new, warm, moving side of you. He finds himself, more often than not, by your side, even when neither of you speak. And he basks in the comfort of the quiet that permeates the air when it’s just the two of you — him hanging in the hammock on deck, you reading by his side.

But now, there’s the soft tapping of your foot, the shuffle of pages when you flip forward to see what’s coming next, and of course the ever-present shush of the ocean as it washes against the Merry’s side.

The Log Pose needs two weeks to properly calibrate to the next island, so they’ve got time to kill.

On the fifth night, over dinner and drinks, Luffy asks the question that everyone’s been thinking since the day they’d all met you —

“So. Why’re you so still all the time? Not that it’s weird or anything — well, actually — it kind of is, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m just asking cause I'm curious!”

You look up from your half-finished wine but Zoro feels it happening, like the hush of a fan blade slicing through air, the gasp before a porcelain vase tips over and shatters. You stop. You stare. You’re frozen in every sense of the word. And he’s known you for long enough to know that you only go still as a reflex, only reach for it as a shield. Against what? He doesn’t quite know.

“It’s… something of a long story,” you say, your voice low and hoarse.

Luffy grins, smacking his lips as he sucks the meat off a chicken leg, “We’ve got tons of time! Right?” he looks around as if for validation, but everyone’s eyes are caught on you and your unnatural stillness.

Zoro shifts slightly in the seat next to you, opening his stance and turning towards you.

“Could do with a good story.”

Your eyes flash in his direction and he offers you the barest hint of a smile.

You relax, ever so slightly, drifting back in your seat, your glass cupped in the palms of your hands. And then, you begin to speak, your voice smooth and lilting, your words washing over them like the faint lull of the tides.

“When I was three, my father sold me for a barrel of beer.”

A dull clack echoes around the room and everyone turns to see Sanji hurriedly righting the thick stein he’s knocked over. Thankfully, it’d been empty.

“Sorry — I just — what?” he sounds furious but Usopp lays a hand across his arm and shakes his head.

You take a deep breath and continue, your voice oddly emotionless as you say, “The man who bought me took me to an island. It was… a dark place. A quiet place. I only learned its name after I escaped — an island called Elysium.”

Nami gasps before clapping her hands over her mouth.

“I’ve just — I’ve heard of that place before, but I thought… I thought it was just a made-up place.”

Luffy swallows hard, frowning, “What’s it like?”

Nami’s eyes flicker between you and Luffy, “Supposedly… it’s the home island for… for the most feared group of assassins in all the seas combined.”

Usopp’s eyebrows jerk up, “The most feared?”

A faint smile seeps across your lips like blood.

“Yes. The Shadows that Live.”

Everyone turns to look at you. Luffy picks up another drumstick.

“Whoa… cool name!”

Zoro hums, “I’ve heard of them before — but mostly, it was just an old wive’s tale about… shadow assassins who hunt in the dark. Mercenaries for hire. But… no one’s ever seen one before.”

“Because… once you see one, you’ll never live to tell the tale,” you say, your eyes now downcast and fixed on the glass in your hands.

“Then…” Usopp’s voice is soft, “What about… you?”

“I… I ran away.”

Silence greets you. But after a moment, Luffy spits out a bit of bone and uses it to pick at the space between his teeth, his eyes round.

“Wow! You must be pretty good to run away from an island full of shadow assassins!”

You almost laugh, his boundless trust hitting you like a punch to the stomach.

“So…” Sanji lets out a puff of silvery smoke, “the staying still thing… that’s just part of your training, yeah?”

You nod, “Something like that.”

Someday, you think, you’ll tell them about the hellscape that was Elysium island, of the long echoing halls, dark and still and silent. Of the mechanical beasts that hunted by sound and movement alone. Someday, you’ll let them know about the poisoned pomegranate seeds that they feed all the “recruits” to keep them hazy, of how you’d kept six of them suspended in your mouth and spat them all out when you’d finally made it far enough from the island to allow yourself to breathe.

“And… are these shadow assassins gonna come after us?” Nami asks, her voice careful and light.

You purse your lips, “I… I don’t know.”

Nami sighs, but a moment later, she moves to refill her drink with a slight shrug, “Well, just one more enemy to add to our growing list. Soon, we’re gonna have to post a sign-up sheet.”

At this, everyone laughs, and the tension snaps like a wounded spring.

Luffy burps loudly, patting his stomach, “I’m not worried — I mean, if you were able to run away from them once, that means you’re stronger than them, right?”

You pause, your hand hovering over the wine bottle. Zoro gently reaches over and refills your glass for you. You shift back into movement, casting him a small smile and taking a sip. The wine is cool and tangy as it hits the back of your throat. You breathe, and the world keeps spinning.

“I… I’m not sure — I’ve never fought… any of… them… before.”

“Guess we’ll find out if they try to come for you then — but you’ve got us now!” Luffy says, reaching for an apple and chomping into it, “ — Sho… you duon gotta wourry —” he licks his lips as he takes another huge bite before tossing the core towards the waste bin, “We’ve got your back!”

Nami makes a disgusted face, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, ugh.”

Sanji chuckles, tapping out his cigarette, “Yeah Luffy, mind your manners.” But his voice is full of laughter and you find yourself relaxing into the sway of the night, the swing of conversation. Beside you, Zoro refills his own glass and leans over to clink it against yours.

You turn, but he only raises his glass before taking a sip.

You mirror his movement, cradling the cup to your chest when you finish.

Later, he finds you by the tangerine trees, ghosting your fingers over their lush green leaves, dark enough to look black in the evening light.

“Hey.”

You turn, “Hi.”

Zoro sighs and looks out over the darkened waves, the moonlight refracted into a million shattered bits of sky.

“Luffy’s right, y’know.”

“What about?” you ask, joining him by the railings. The night air is cool and crisp. Behind you both, the island oozes with lamplight and laughter. Even from here, you can hear the joy, the peace that permeates the air here. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, you think, to stay here forever.

“If they come for you,” Zoro says, “we’ll have your back.”

You let out a small chuckle, looking down at your hands, “I know.”

“So,” he turns towards you, his earrings glinting in beneath the scimitar moon, “you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

You lick your lips, and instinctively, you reach for the stillness. All the days and weeks and months with the people around you have softened you, and for that, you know you should be thankful. Still, old habits die hard, and you have to clench your fists and dig your nails into your own palms to keep from freezing completely.

You take a shivering breath and force it out again.

“Fear’s a hard habit to break.”

At this, Zoro grunts, though it sounds something like consent. The moment stretches, long and soft and taffy-sweet.

He turns back towards the sea, “Yeah,” he says, and then —

“But we can take it slow.”

You swallow hard, passed the broken shards of forgotten words lodged in your throat (you find that they all somehow taste like thank you), and you nod. Warmth tickles your cheeks and you wonder why he’s said we instead of you — and later, lying in your bed at night, staring at the moon-slatted ceiling, you wonder if he was really talking about fear or if it was something else entirely.

You don’t get a lick of sleep that night.

The next few days pass in a light, repetitive blur. You and Zoro are sent on a few short shopping trips in the city, and you’re glad for something to do that involves movement. Shocking how quickly the body adapts once the weight it’d been holding on to is lifted.

You are still quiet, and he, the same; but the silence has shifted around you, and whereas before it’d been solid and steady, it’s now thrumming and charged with some unspoken energy.

Neither of you are blind to it; nor, it seems, is the rest of the crew.

Sanji’s taken to openly teasing Zoro about being with you all the time, complaining loudly that he can’t get a word in edgewise because Zoro refuses to leave you alone. Nami keeps on trying to drag you out for “girl's day” shopping trips, hinting at all the cute clothes you could get and how “green really suits your skin tone, y’know?”

Luffy and Usopp for their part, both just grin whenever they see you together — Luffy stoked at the fact that you seem more happy and talkative, Usopp gleeful at the way Zoro always seems so much softer when he’s next to you.

You’ve taken to watching him when he trains, sitting in the shade of the tangerine trees, a cold drink in your hand as Zoro runs through his katas. You content yourself with watching him flow through the movements, one and then another, and then another after that. He contents himself with your presence, knowing that you’re here, feeling your eyes as they skate down the length of his back or the width of his shoulders.

It’s a peaceful sort of companionship, even if it is living on borrowed time.

When you all wave the little island goodbye, it’s with heavy hearts and tearful smiles. It had treated you well, and you think you’d miss it. But adventure is as adventure does — it calls, beckoning to those with wandering hearts to listen.

The first week back at sea is a strange one, full of a ringing nostalgia. As if you’re simultaneously coming home and leaving one at the same time. Everyone is a bit quiet, except for Luffy, of course, who literally bounces off the freshly waxed planks, humming to himself as he sits on top of the great ram’s figurehead.

“Is he ever still?” you ask one day, sometime in the second week.

To which Zoro makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh, “You’ve been here a while. What’d you think?”

You sigh softly and tear your eyes away from the bright, shivering ball of energy that is your captain towards the far horizon. A sliver of uncertainty twines through you and your breath slows. Zoro glances at you, now long since attuned to your subtle shifts in movement and stillness. He narrows his eyes.

“What is it?”

You shake yourself back into the moment, forcing a smile.

“Nothing. I think…” your words fade as the feeling twists in you again, knife-sharp and stinging. You clear your throat and reach up to brush away a strand of hair. Skin grazes skin as Zoro’s hand meets yours in the same gesture and you both freeze — hands held up, his finger caught against the bend of your cheekbone, your fingers curling over his.

Time slows, slackens around the pair of you, and the moment stays, suspended in space — garnet dark and perfect.

Neither of you dare to breathe. It’s then that you realize how close Zoro is — close enough for you to see the entire ocean reflected in his eyes: big and dark and so endless it nearly unmoors you. Close enough for you to feel the warmth of his skin; his body, emanating heat. You’d often wondered, in the long hours of watching him train, at the glistening copper of his skin and the light-kissed quality, if the sun himself favored Zoro as well.

Like this, it’s easy to believe that beneath his skin, there pulsed something like sunlight.

“Look! It’s an island! It’s an island!”

And just like that, the moment shatters. Time slips back into motion and you pull away from each other, breathless, with warm cheeks and thundering hearts, feeling somehow lightning-touched and static-ridden.

You take half a step back, reaching up to press a hand to your mouth as if to stop something from tumbling through. But what? You can’t really say.

Zoro tips back as well, whipping around to help Usopp and Sanji with the sails as Luffy continues to holler, waving his hat. On the horizon, you see it looming — the silhouette of an island. You lower your palm from your lips to your heart and wonder what kind of island it will be.

Deserted — seems to be the answer when you all make landfall. The island is quiet, but the occasional chirp and cricket staves off your nerves as you all wander cautiously about the beach, squinting into the dense forest that seems to encompass the whole of the island.

“Looks like a good place to camp for the night!” Luffy says, grinning as he plops down on the sand.

Sanji nods, dusting off his hands, “We’ll need some wood for a fire, but I reckon I can whip up some grilled fish from the fresh catch.”

You wrap your arms around yourself and look around, glancing back at the darkening horizon.

“Something the matter?” Zoro’s voice is soft as he helps you carry some of the camping supplies from the ship.

“No… yes… I —” you look up at him, pursing your lips, “I don’t know. I’ve just… this island is…”

Zoro looks around, his dark eyes scanning the thick swath of forest just beyond the beach, “Too quiet?”

You let out a tiny laugh, “Yeah, something like that.”

He nods, “Don’t worry, I’m — we’re here.”

And he leaves it at that, hoisting a stack of wood over his shoulders and going to help Nami with the fire. You watch him with a smile, wondering what on earth you’d done to deserve this level of caring, this magnitude of kindness. Soon, dinner is had and drinks are shared and laughter is spilled like so many silver coins over the white sand beach. The lull of the evening takes over you all, and before long, Luffy and Usopp are slumped over each other, snoring loudly.

You stare into the depths of the fire and try to tamp down the growing dread festering inside your bones. All those years of holding still, of breathing and listening and feeling — you shake yourself — no, not all stillness is a bad thing. Not all silences are made the same.

“You’re doing it again,” Zoro’s voice almost makes you jump. Instead, you turn, finding him next to you as he nurses a half-drunk bottle of wine in his hands. He doesn’t look at you, but there’s a loose grin hinged across his lips.

“Sorry,” you say, ducking your head, feeling a now familiar heat creep into your cheeks that has nothing to do with the dwindling bonfire.

“Don’t be,” Zoro takes another drink, “But I told you… you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“I know… and I’ve said before —”

“Fear’s a hard habit to break,” Zoro echoes back at you, finally glancing over and catching your eye.

You breathe out, looking down at your own hands, “Yeah… but I’m trying.”

You both fall silent, and for a while, the only sounds are the crackle of the dying flames, the shush of the ocean waves, and the occasional snores from the rest of your crew. It’s late — later than you realized.

“Do you… want me to grab a book for you?”

You smile, “No, I don’t think it’s bright enough.”

“I could restoke the fire.”

“No, it’s — it’s okay.”

“Alright.”

A bird coos the distance.

“Why don’t you tell me a story?” you ask, turning to look at Zoro proper, shifting till your body is facing him.

In the faint light, you can see the edge of his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“You’re asking the wrong guy — you should wait till the Great Captain Usopp’s awake.”

“Yeah, but I want to hear one from you.”

Zoro sighs, his eyes fixed on the last of the flickering flames. He takes another swig of wine before he starts to speak, his voice low and a bit stilted, but he pushes on. He tells you about his childhood, the village he’d trained in, the doujou in the middle of the wood, his friend who he’d never beat — not even once.

He tells you about he early mornings and the late nights, and how the world had seemed large enough to conquer.

“… And then… there came a morning when she didn’t show up… and sensei came and told me that there’d been an accident.”

His voice almost breaks then, and your eyes catch on the shining white hilt of the Wadou Ichimonji — his thumb pressing against the guard, running along it’s hard metal edge.

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

Zoro shrugs, “Don’t be.”

You nod, “Still.”

Zoro slates you a lopsided smirk, “So. Now you know my tragic backstory too.”

You laugh, leaning back to cast your eyes up towards the sky, “And you know mine — it’s almost like we’re friends or something.”

Zoro lets out a long breath, “Yeah… or something.”

There’s a tightness to his voice that makes your skin tingle and it takes everything you have not to look over at him, to try and see if he’s looking at you, watching you the way you’d imagined him to be. You fancy you can feel his gaze on your face, but you close your eyes instead.

You let yourself fall into the warm haze of sleep, and for a while you drift there, your mind sifting through shards of memories and slivers of sound, casting them against the backs of your eyelids as you slowly slide into the darkness of dreams.

You wake up to a gasping stillness — the silence pressing in on your eardrums like thumbs, the darkness around you so complete it’s almost a solid thing. You freeze, your breath hissing to a halt inside you. Then distantly, ever so distantly, you hear the sounds of battle — metal clashing against metal, the hard thud of boots against flesh. You shake your head and reach up to clap your hands over your ears and only then do your senses return to you, snapping back as if you’d been abruptly shunted back into your earthly body.

“Gum Gum — Pistol!”

“Seize her!”

You whip into movement, fast as a flash, dashing away, hoping against hope that it would draw your attackers far enough from your crewmates.

“No one… ever… leaves us…”

The voice is serpentine and susurrus, sinking into your skin like sharpened teeth, but before it can reach you, it’s cut short by a bright flash of silver.

You gasp, whirling around, reaching for the nearest pulse, instinct taking over as you sink your fingers into muscle and flesh. The rush of blood thrumming beneath your fingertips comes too easy, even as a familiar scent accosts you. A moment later, your hands are being pinned above you, and thick, rough bark is digging into your wrists as Zoro stands before you, a sword in one hand, the other holding you still.

His eyes are a little wild and a lot worried. There’s a ring of red rawness around his neck, thin trickles of blood trailing along his jugular, disappearing into the wide scoop neck of his shirt.

“Hey, look at me.”

You nearly whimper, struggling against him, fear still coursing through you like a drug but Zoro is strong enough to keep you held. Behind him, you can see the rest of the crew fending off several shadowy figures, Usopp waving a torch, screaming at the top of his lungs, Luffy whooping as he whacks another figure with his fist.

“Z-Zoro?”

“Yeah, it’s me — eyes up here.”

You swallow in a breath, and then another, and you feel the bright thrum of urgency leave you as your body slowly falls slack. And then you’re slipping, and he’s looping an arm around you to keep you upright.

“Th-they’re here — they —”

“They’re gone — we got rid of them — hey.”

Zoro takes you by the shoulders and gives you a gentle shake. Finally, your eyes catch on his and your gaze holds. You see yourself reflected in them, stark and terrified, but alive — somehow alive.

“They’re gone,” he says, his voice soft and low by your ear, his arm still wrapped around your middle. Shivers wrack your body as you bury your face in his shoulder. He smells of steel and skin and the metallic tang of blood. It’s then that you remember — the wounds on the sides of his neck. The marks in the shape of your hands —

You jerk back and feel a sticky wetness against your cheek.

“Zoro, I hurt you!”

At this, he scoffs, pulling back far enough to flash you a look.

“This is nothing. C’mon.”

He offers you a hand, and after a second you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Wordlessly, he presses his palm to the small of your back, his arm extended to keep you steady as you both make your way back towards camp.

“Phew! That was a workout!” Luffy is saying just as you both reach the outskirts of the now-darkened bonfire. Sanji is pulling out a cigarette, striking a match, and first lighting the end before tossing it into the remains of the firewood, fanning it up into a slow flame.

Nami and Usopp both look a bit shaken, but none worse for the wear.

They all pivot to look at you.

You go still against Zoro’s side, uncertainty flooding through you. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s fingers as they press into the bend of your waist, solid and steady.

Then, Usopp coughs, “C’mon y’all — the Shadows that Live? Psh! More like — the Shadows that Fled, am I right? Yeah? Didya see the way I sent ‘em runnin’ with my brand new fire-powered explosion rounds?”

Nami chuckles and Sanji follows suit, shaking his head and letting out a thin wisp of smoke. Luffy’s grins at you, pumping a fist in the air, clapping his right shoulder.

“See? Told you we’d have your back! We are your crew, after all!”

Weakness seeps into your limbs as you nod, hot pin-pricks of tears itching at your lower lashes. You lower your head and rub at your eyes before looking back up again with a smile. Sanji grimaces as he looks over Zoro.

“Got something on your neck, mate.”

Zoro glares but you glance over and feel your stomach twist with guilt.

“Sorry… I can clean that up for you. They’re not deep but they do need to be bandaged up.”

Zoro wipes down his sword before sheathing it and motioning towards the ship. Behind you, you can hear Nami yawning and saying something about catching up on some more sleep and Sanji reassuring her about having the last watch anyway.

The kitchen is still dark, but the dusty dawn sweeps against the far horizon and neither of you bother to turn the lights on. You carefully set the first aid kit on the kitchen counter and collect the supplies as Zoro leans back against the edge and folds his arms. You work in near silence, reaching up to first wipe the thin threads of drying blood before tending to the tiny, crescent-shaped puncture wounds.

You press an alcohol-soaked cotton ball against one of them and feel Zoro wince.

“Sorry.”

“I’m fine.”

You bite your lips, “If this had been a bit deeper or a few inches over —”

“But it wasn’t. So it’s fine.”

You don’t look up at him but you can feel his eyes on you. Your movements are fluid and sure; you’d clearly done this before.

“Hey, look at me.”

You freeze, eyes slowly gliding up the planes and divots of his neck, slipping up the line of his jaw, so sharp it might’ve been turned on a diamond cutter’s lathe. Your breath hitches as you finally meet his eyes, and there’s a dark, knowing glint behind them that makes your stomach flip.

“I’m fine.”

And for the second time in a handful of hours, you’re caught by the realization of your closeness — only a breath of space between you. There’s a crimp at the corner of his mouth that looks dangerously like a smile and then you’re tipping forward, a thumb reaching up to trace the line of his bottom lip once —

The movement acts like a trigger, and suddenly, he is leaning in and the breath of space disappears.

For all your life of stillness, you thought you’d learned to appreciate the depths and widths of movement. But nothing could’ve prepared you for this — for the push and pull of lips on lips, for the force and friction of skin against skin. For the gasp and hiss, for the breath and kiss.

For the feeling of his large palm as it settles along the swallow’s-nest bend of your neck, the way his thumb runs along your jaw like tracing the guard of his beloved sword, tilting your mouth towards him. For the way your heart might flutter like a tiny, caged bird, or the way you might feel his heart thumping like a fist from his chest to yours.

For the way his voice rolls over your name like a ship at sea; for the way it would shake your body from your bones and leave you more liquid than solid in his arms. For how you never used to think your story would be a love story, but then you realize that every story is a love story if caught in the right moment, in the right light.

And here, breaking apart from Zoro, with a thick, stolen streak of lemon-yellow sunlight leaking in from the kitchen window — that’s exactly what it feels like.

“Oh,” is all you have the strength to say.

Zoro, in all his solid brilliance and quiet audacity, laughs.

You taste the smile on your own lips before you realize you’re smiling. But when you try to bury your face in his neck, he winces slightly as you brush his still-fresh wounds.

“Crap, I forgot about these.”

Zoro chuckles as you hurry to press a few small bandages to the wounds.

“It’s okay. So did I.”

You finish dressing his wounds in silence, though this silence is markedly different from every other silence that had ever existed between you. There’s ease and tension, both, and when you’re finally finished, Zoro takes both your hands in his.

“So…” you say, unsure suddenly of where to look.

Zoro’s laugh is just as soft, just as uncertain.

“So.”

You try to look out the window, but by now, the dawning sun is so bright that it temporarily blinds you and you jerk back. Zoro smiles, reaching up to run his thumbs along your closed eyelids before dropping them to hook around your wrists again.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?” he asks, quiet as always.

You purse your lips and let your lashes flutter open. You find him watching you. Heat crests up your shoulders and into your cheeks, and suddenly, the exhaustion of the night before saps at your limbs. You sigh.

“Right now? Not really.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, sounding as relieved as you feel.

You bite your lips and cast your gaze shyly across his face, your bird-wing heartbeat still flapping in your chest. You fight the urge to go still, to reach for that shield that has always protected you before. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s thumbs tracing circles along the insides of your wrists.

“Can I ask for something else, though?”

“What is it?”

You reach up a finger, nudging one of his golden earrings. You don’t miss the way he shivers, or the way his breath quickens in his chest.

“Kiss me again.”

Zoro grins, tugging you towards him, leaning into the curve of your palm as he does.

And does.

And does again.

reqs are: temporarily closed

but feedback is much loved and appreciated!!!

[oukabarsburgblr]

YARICCHIN BITCH CLUB X MALE READER [SMUT ONESHOT]

FEATURING : AKEMI, TAMURA, KASHIMA, TOONO, Itome, Yuri, Shikatani x male reader

Note : [UPPERCASE] are focused ships, [lowercase] are less/not focused.

When the club finds out the captain of the Morimori Private Academy Volleyball Team is a virgin, a very pursued and hot person in the school, to which they invite him to the club's exclusive gangbang!

6.6k words. Smut, con, slight dubcon, multiple cylinders and overstimulation. 18+ only.

Find out more under the cut!

"Ah..."

The (h/c) stared down at Akemi Keiichi, the club president of the infamous Yaribu at his school, who had been gleaming up at him. (m/n) who had been pulled out of his practice at the request of the blonde, the sounds of volleyball being slammed on the court rang behind them as they stood outside the gym.

Akemi wasn't alone however. He had dragged two of his members along with him. One of which (m/n) had been acquainted, the other seemed like a first year. "(m/n)-senpai you look as ugly as ever." Tamura cursed at the hot third year who was in a compression shirt, albeit a bit sweaty from his practice but it only accentuated his charm. The captain just stared at the blue-haired male before turning to Akemi.

"I didn't really catch your question properly...mind saying it again?" Well (m/n) did. He just wanted to make sure. Due to the question itself being a load of bullcrap.

Akemi nodded. "Of course, (m/n)-chan! A little birdie had told us that you are still a cute pristine little virgin! Would you like to join our gangbang to pop your cherry?" The blonde smiled at him, virgins are his favourite after all, as he made a gesture with his fingers of fucking a hole.

(m/n) dreaded at the thought of the news of his virginity spreading. His volleyball freshman juniors had asked if he had a lover or not, and he responded no, also adding the fact that he had never had done it. It had slipped and (m/n) didn't think of it much but alas, the idea of the infamous captain who had brought the team to new heights had remained pure and untouched had brought attention to his abundant fans, and it had reached the ears of the Yaribu Club.

Now, he was standing outside the volleyball gyms with three members of the lewd club asking him to join in their gangbang event. The (h/c) remained silent and rubbed his tired eyes at the outrageous invite.

"You can decline, (m/n)-senpai! If you're not okay with it." The third member had chirped, as he had remained silent in the conversation. He had a deeper blue to his messy locks, darker than Tamura's. "...and you are?"

"Kashima Yuu. I'm a first year." Kashima bowed to his senpai. His heart jumping at the fact that the infamous (m/n) had asked for his name as he revelled at the fact that he had managed to speak (as little as he did) to the (h/c). "...I'm (m/n) (l/n), third year."

And he's humble too? With such a nice voice. Kashima smiled shyly, overexxagerating (m/n)'s introduction. "Kashima-kun! You're supposed to coax him!" Akemi shook his junior's shoulders as Tamura cackled at the obvious blush and crush of Kashima on the (h/c).

(m/n) just stayed silent and left the premise quietly, locking the gym doors as well as he continued practice. There was banging on the door as Akemi yelled at him to come out. His vice-captain asked out of concern but (m/n) told him to ignore the idiots.

-

"You guys never know when to quit, huh?"

Again, the (h/c) stared down at a pleading, bowing male before him. Another member of the Yaribu Club had approached him right as he was about to go to volleyball practice. And here they were alone in the class hallways, the sun still at its peak in the midday.

These past few days have been an annoyance to the volleyball player. Akemi had been long friends with the (h/c), ever since their first year together and has been aware of the Yaricchin Bitch Club's activities and purpose but he has never indulged in that side in particular.

Had Akemi ever proposed to? Ever so slightly but not this bold of an attempts. This new kid in front of him explained that the short blonde had proposed a reward to those who could bring (m/n) into their clubroom. The required five customer service quota would be cut down to zero, but they would be voted and rewarded as best club member for three months straight.

Other members had approached him, undeniably. Akemi himself has been harassing him, slipping a dildo in his bag once or twice or cornering him in the school bathroom but (m/n) had managed to escape every time. Itome couldn't care less at all of this.

Tamura had tried dragging him by force, but one punch from (m/n)'s vice captain silenced his drastic measures as he resorted to yelling at the (h/c) about the gangbang instead.

Shikatani had also asked him to stay after class, them being classmates and all. The pretty male flashed his lingerie underneath his school uniform and (m/n) only deadpanned at his seduction attempt, Shikatani got really offended at his refusal.

The first year from the other day, Kashima Yuu, had caught up to him during lunch. Inviting him again, saying that Akemi had pushed him before he makes Kashima become the focus of the gangbang.

"I don't get it. Why is everyone so adamant for my virginity?" The captain groaned as he palmed his face.

Kashima only laughed nervously, with a slight red hue on his cheeks. "(m/n)-senpai is a very admirable person. I'm shocked Akemi-san hadn't gotten to you earlier." (m/n) kicked his shin, out of annoyance of the stupid joke.

Oddly enough, the mascot of the Yaribu had not come to see him yet. Yuri had deemed (m/n), as he quoted 'boring' since the pink-haired male was not interested in an uninterested person. That's what the (h/c) had thought until he found out Yuri had been searching for his dorm room late at night.

His mind wandered back to the present, the brunette in front of him bowing down. "Who are you, again?" The brunette flinched as he peeked up at the (h/c), only knowing of him from praises from Kashima.

"Toono...Toono Takashi." "First year?" The brunette nodded as he kept his head down. (m/n) frowned as he moved to leave the conversation but yelped when he felt something clutching his legs. "Please (m/n)-senpai! I'm begging you, I really need the reward!" Toono cried out as he hugged the captain's legs tightly. If his vice-captain was here, a fight would've broke out but alas he was alone.

"I don't want to sleep with anyone, I swear! I really need the reward so they'd leave me alone. I'm too straight for this!!" The first year sobbed as he begged for the (h/c) to comply. (m/n) doubted his last sentence but whatever.

Everyone is starting to annoy him recently. With all the fuss about his cherry and whatnot. It's just his virginity. Not marriage or whatever. This isn't the Victorian era where one's purity brings wealth or value. Fuck it, just this once.

(m/n) groaned loudly as he sneered at the brunette at his legs.

"You'll leave me alone after this one time, right?"

-

"Hn-ng ahckk!"

(m/n) was choking on his own saliva. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he stepped inside the clubroom, the first thing he saw was Akemi's shocked face. Now he was lying on the ground clothes astrewn, on a futon they oh so gracefully brought out for him in the middle of the small room.

"HAHAHA SHO CUTE!! DICK'S SO CUTEE!" Yuri drooled over the (h/c)'s half-hard penis, his spit drooping over the (s/c) tip as Yuri dove in and immediately deep-throated earning a yelp from (m/n). His bottom couldn't stay still as someone had kept playing with his hole, his dirty cum-filled hole.

There were too many people for (m/n) to register. Too many dicks shoved in his face. Hands groping his athletic body. Tamura was still mangling a dildo down his throat, choking the (h/c). The volleyball player had a suspicion that it was used before.

"Now I know why so many people are lusting after you, (m/n)-chan. It's a wonder how you have kept to yourself this long." Shikatani mumbled, as he pulled the rope connected to the choker around his classmate's neck as he pinched the (h/c)'s nipples, eyes mulling over it twitching. Said (h/c) cried out as he moaned all over the purple toy in his mouth, Tamura taking great pleasure in his expressions.

(m/n) felt so overwhelmed. Hours could have passed since the room is so dimly lit now, only orange hues barely spilling in through the closed curtains. Immediately after he entered he was pinned down to the floor. Itome was slightly jealous due to Akemi being oddly possessive of (m/n)'s chastity.

-

"Ahh ahh mmngahh~" The (h/c) panted as his legs were forced up forcibly up to his shoulders as he sat on the white bedding, Itome holding him up as Akemi shoved his lubed fingers in and out of (m/n)'s asshole while unbuttoning his school uniform. "I love virgins, (m/n)-chan! But I think I'd love yours the most."

The president cooed as he slipped his tongue into (m/n)'s mouth, sloppily making out with the sobbing (h/c) who was so stimulated having his asshole fingered by someone else for the first time. He felt someone taking his free hand to rub on something. Something dripping.

Tamura groaned at the feeling of the calloused hand he's using to rub himself off. "Mm- ahh your hand is so nice senpai..." Tamura mewled as he thrusted his hips into (m/n)'s fist.

The (h/c) heard a mumble behind him before he jumped at the cold feeling of someone's tongue slobbering all over his neck, his body flinching in Itome's hold. "HAHAHAHAH VIRGIN VIRGIN!!" Yuri licked (m/n)'s left ear, teasing his tongue into the rim of his ear canal. The volleyball captain's tried to pull his ass away from Akemi's fingers before the blonde stopped him by pulling his hair harshly.

"Don't you dare run away, (m/n)-chan. We all have waited oh so patiently for you <3." Akemi pulled away to speak and kiss his cheek before shoving his mouth into the (h/c)'s. His fingers teasingly pressing into his asshole before he added all four, essentially preparing his bottom for the many dicks to cum.

Akemi was the one to fuck him first. It was definitely him. (m/n) could never forget the look of delight on the blonde's face when he thrusted himself into the squirming (h/c) while he was still held up by Itome. And oh god his dick was so big. Why did a small guy like Akemi Keiichi have that thing around anyways?

"A-Akemi! P-please slow down- ah!" (m/n) gripped the blonde's arms as he grounded himself from Akemi's excited thrust. "Like a piston!" Yuri cheered from somewhere in the room. The (h/c) couldn't see much, the room was dark from his request but he couldn't have felt so seen.

His asshole twitched every time Akemi's large cock brutally pounded into him, pulling tears that dripped on his lower lashes. He was naked and fucked bare whilst everyone watched. Everyone's eyes on him and their hands had violated his chastity one way or another.

Everyone? Toono? (m/n) tried searching for the brunette, the one who he had let him pull him to this whorish club. He could only see a handful of brown hair hiding behind one of the couches.

"Hey hey. Dick's up here fucker." Tamura grappled his jaw as he positioned his cock towards (m/n)'s mouth, taking advantage of him gasping for air every time Akemi fucked into his ass, he slipped in his wet cock into (m/n)'s throat. "And here I thought your hand was good, (m/n)-senpai! Mmm~ you might be better than Yuri." He didn't notice when Itome had left his figure, (m/n) now laying on the thin futon as Akemi fucked him missionary.

His tongue instinctively swirled around Tamura's tip, his eyes lulled back into his skull as Tamura pressed his crotch further into his face, his balls slapping against his chin and his precum slobbering all over (m/n)'s mouth. He tried swallowing to gain airway but that only made the second year moan even more, spilling cum into his mouth, choking the (h/c).

Tamura pulled out and laid his spent penis on (m/n)'s face, covering his right cheek and eye. The (h/c) was gasping for air as cum drooled out of his mouth, his body still flinching as Akemi bit into his pecs. "Ne ne (m/n)-chan. You were always my type, y'know? That's why I'm so excited to see you like this~"

Like a whore with a dick flat on his face and underneath Akemi getting pounded to no end. (m/n)'s cries only got louder as Akemi started to thrust even faster and shallower. "I-I think I'm gonna cum- I'm gonna cum real soon! Ah ah! I'm gonna cum I'm gonna cu-ummm!!" The (h/c) mewled as he Tamura's cum drooled out from the corner of his lips as he threw his head back from his upcoming orgasm.

(m/n)'s back arched as he felt spurts of sperm shoot out of his stimulated penis, Akemi smiling down and kissing his neck. "Bare with me for a bit, (m/n)-chan." The blonde mumbled as he hugged the (h/c), effectively holding him down as he came inside his asshole, (m/n) clenching tighter at the sensation as he grappled the blonde's body for security.

His (s/c) body twitching as Akemi's unborn children spilled out of his bottom when the blonde pulled out. "No- no condom?" (m/n) mewled, his legs shaking and asshole twitching. "I'm so sorry, (m/n). I really wanted to pull out just now!"

Liar. Akemi had definitely wanted to defile his virginity properly. The (h/c) furrowed his eyebrows, his sanity slipping away as he pushed himself up shakily, although his legs couldn't even stretch properly. "Th-that's all, right? Can I leave now?" Too much dick. Too much cum for a day.

Tamura wanted to protest before Shikatani intervened. "I'm tired of only watching you, (m/n)-kun." The pretty male pushed him down gently as he sat on his stomach, his fingers trailing up (m/n)'s face, wiping away Tamura's cum. "I want my fill too."

"Hey hey! Get in line Shikatani! We agreed that I'd be next!" "I don't want his ass, Tamura." Shikatani shivered at the thought of (m/n)'s leaking hole with someone else's cum. But his front however, "I'd be using this for myself."

(m/n) couldn't even register properly before Shikatani slammed himself down on his half-hard spent cock. "Wh-wha?! Ah! A-angg ah!" The (h/c) could definitely audition for a hentai VA. His high-pitched moans and yelps was definitely a sweet tune to their ears. Yuri's ears especially.

"Touch! Touch me!" The pink-haired pulled on his hand, encouraging him to jerk off the second year. Shikatani was mewling as he rode the (h/c) like a fucking champ, bouncing up and down on his penis. (m/n)'s breathing had gotten heavier and his moans were ringing louder. His mind was definitely not in the right state as he mindlessly grabbed Yuri's dripping cock and jerking it off as well as he can. Tamura was cursing as he pulled on his other hand as well.

Now with two cocks over his head and Shikatani's beautiful body clenching down on him, it didn't take long for him to cum a second time. Nor for the other three cocks to spill all over his body, painting his chest and face streaks of milky white.

-

"Fuck fuck fuck!" (m/n) couldn't take this anymore. He grappled to crawl away from the futon, Itome had just finished shotgunning him seconds ago in his lap, fingering (m/n) and jerking him off at the same time at Akemi's request. It's too much for little ol' (m/n). They're crazy. They're sex maniacs.

"Hah! Where'd ya' think you're goin?" A hand roughly pulled on his ankle, dragging him back on the soiled mattress as Tamura excited laughter filled the air. "I finally get to bust my nut into you, senpai. Let's see if you're still tight after all this." "Wait wait wait-" The (h/c) couldn't even see the second year, he was on his hands and knees, his ass propped up with leashed choker still on his neck.

(m/n) squealed at the probing of his entrance for the nth time that day, the familiar silicone-shape of the male genitalia instantly shoved into his bottom, making the (h/c)'s gave his hands out as he plopped on the dirty mattress. "Fuck! You're clenching down on me so hard. Your asshole might just be your best feature other than your mouth, senpai!"

Tamura probed as he spread (m/n)'s buttcheeks apart, grinning down at his hole that was stuffed with his dick but still spilling cum from Akemi's round with him. The (h/c) was blabbering unintelligible noises, Tamura gripped the leash and pulled it back. "A-ack! Too-too much! Too much cock-" (m/n) dug his nails into Tamura's arms, he couldn't lie that the one with the nicest body here was definitely Tamura's as the (h/c) half sat on his cock while on his knees, the second year rutting into him, smacking their skin together as he pulled on the leash.

He felt like a dog. A bitch. Having a leash around his neck, his tongue panting out, drooling whatever saliva he has left and his eyes lulling back and forth with Tamura's thrusts. The second year wasn't wearing a condom too. The (h/c) could feel the wetness of his cock staining (m/n)'s ass while digging out Akemi's own cum.

"CUTIE CUTE CUTE!" Yuri made his way on front of (m/n) and instantly licked up a stripe up his chest, making the captain flinch. That damn piercing. He mewled as Yuri began to lick and suck on his nipples, instinctively tightening in on Tamura's dick. "Urmff! Tighter! Make it hurt senpai!" The second year began to pound up into him even harder as (m/n) yelled out in exasperation.

He just noticed something in Yuri's hands. Huh. What's that? (m/n) could barely see anything in the dark room. Had it passed sundown already? The (h/c) was about to call out for Akemi until he felt his cock shoved into something soft, velvety cushion.

"H-huh?"

He whimpered, scared of whatever was on his cock while Tamura was still fucking up into him from behind. Yuri cackled as he jacked the flashlight up and down on the (h/c)'s cock, leering at the crying face (m/n) was expressing. "P-please...have mercy..." The (h/c) was begging for them to slow down. It was no use asking them to end it but the least he could have was a moment of sanity.

"Sex is the best!" Yuri chanted as he pressed one of the buttons on the fleshlight, turning on its vibrate function as (m/n) screamed at the new sensation on his spent cock, the pink-haired male still pistoning it up and down on his penis. Tamura laughed at (m/n)'s sobbing as he went to suck on his neck, littering hickies all over his skin.

Yuri leaned forward to mush their tongues together, (m/n) completely bottoming out as he let Yuri violate his mouth with his stupid piercing. The two second years pressed (m/n) in between them, Tamura still fucking up into (m/n) although he had came inside, he still wanted to milk out more of himself into the (h/c) while Yuri rubbing his penis under (m/n)'s cock, slipping in between his thighs and his balls.

The (h/c) came again, into the fleshlight as he was making out with Yuri, humping him all the while Tamura cummed in the third year for the second time, stilling inside him as he bit down on his nape, leaving a mark for sure.

"Wow, your performance is really good, (m/n)!" He couldn't see where Akemi was but judging on Itome's moaning, he was probably doting on his boyfriend. "You being a volleyball player really helps with your stamina!" The blonde praised the (h/c) as he fucks himself into Itome, cooing into his crying boyfriend.

As Tamura pulled out, so much liquid instantly dripped out of his hole. (m/n) felt so disgusting, so filled, so satisfied with himself. Fuck, was he turning into one of them? He didn't protest when Yuri pushed him down onto the futon again.

"Hey Yuri-kun. He's had enough, don't you think?" Tamura quirked an eyebrow at the sight of a neon dildo in Yuri's hand. Yuri irked and yelled at Tamura. "Shut up! Stupid Tamura!" The former laughed as he leaned down onto the (h/c). "Sorry, senpai. Looks like you have to service him next."

The third year was too out of it. He didn't hear what Tamura said, only responding when Tamura leaned down to give him comforting kisses on his face as he whined for more. The second year laughed as he kissed deeply into the (h/c) while Yuri slipped himself onto (m/n)'s cock.

"Mmff! Mmmggh-..." (m/n)'s moans were muffled by Tamura's tongue, the latter only cupping his face to make out with him sloppily. Yuri on the other hand, was having the time of his life bouncing wildly on his hard cock, the (h/c) doesn't know how he himself was still hard. Maybe he was pent up all this time, and the Yaribu Club is doing him a favor letting him spill his cum in so many different ways.

Yuri clenched down on him, while rubbing himself all over with the neon vibrating dildo. When he saw, (m/n) wasn't focusing on him at all, he shoved the toy in between his legs, effectively drawing the (h/c) away from Tamura with a scream, a string of saliva still connecting their faces.

"Mmngg- FUCK FUCK!!" (m/n)'s eyes widened as he felt his puffy hole violated with the vibrating dildo, being shoved in and out of his ass, Yuri letting the tip linger on his rim. "I'm better at him using those things." Tamura kissed his tears. "You can come to me at anytime if you want to play again." The (h/c) sobbed into Tamura's hold, crying at Yuri's ruthless hold on him.

"(m/n). I wanna try your mouth, please." Shikatani pushed Tamura away, the latter scoffing at the third year as he went to find the first years. Were they all hiding? Tamura definitely made sure to lock the doors. The (h/c) was too tired to lift his head up but Shikatani who was kneeling beside (m/n)'s head, only slid his penis over his lips, still donning a lingerie. At this point, (m/n)'s naked body was so defiled with cum and hickies so Shikatani only went for his tongue instead.

The (h/c) lapped his tongue on Shikatani's underside, kissing it fervently as he sucked on the cock, he was definitely bigger than Shikatani. His breaths huffed on the dick in his face before he sucked some more, if it was possible he would have left hickies on it.

Sperm shot on his face and (m/n) didn't even notice when Yuri had lifted himself up from his cock, promptly finishing himself off on his face as Shikatani yelled at him for getting some on his dick. The (h/c) had finished inside Yuri, judging by his cum leaking down Yuri's legs but the dildo was still in him, vibrating lowly in his ass. (m/n) paid no mind to the fighting above him as he continued to kiss and lick Shikatani's cock, making him drip his load on (m/n)'s face. Who knew it would feel so good getting defiled by so many people at once?

(m/n) laid still, fucked out from all the dicks and his mind blank, his face lips wet with precum and Yuri still on top of him, leaning down to lick into his ear. His mind was blank, his puffy eyes foggy with post-nut syndrome. Was this what sex had felt like all this time?

He didn't notice the yelling match behind him as Yuri was pulled off of him and another was pushed on top of him before he propped himself up with his arms. "I-I'm sorry, senpai." (m/n) squinted his eyes, trying to recognise who was on top of him.

"Kashima..."

"These suckers were hiding all this time! Everyone has to join in." Tamura yelled at the still fully clothed Kashima, who had been hiding with Toono behind the couches. A screaming Toono could be heard as Yuri pulled him up. Akemi glared while smiling at the first years. "Now now. Everyone had their turns with (m/n) except for Toono and Kashima. It's either you fuck him or we'll have our way with you!" The blonde stated threateningly.

(m/n) was still staring at at Kashima who smiled apologetically at him. "Senpai, you've done a lot today." Kashima was still clean and in his school uniform unlike the captain, who was stark naked and body smothered with the three liquids; sweat, saliva and cum. The first year reached out and wiped away the wetness from his face while looking into (e/c) adoringly.

"I don't think he can handle anymore, Akemi-senpai." Kashima looked to the blonde, who was hugging Itome, on the other side of the room. "Really? What a pity. It would've been a great achievement for a virgin to fuck all the members on their first time." Akemi looked to Itome, who refused to have sex with the (h/c).

"N-No. I still wanna-" (m/n) mewled as he hugged Kashima. He panted as he rubbed his cheek against the first year. "I...I wanna do it with you." Kashima's painful erection during the entire endeavour couldn't be anymore obvious now. His pants straining against his bulge which was pressed against the (h/c)'s crotch.

"(m/n)..." Kashima whispered as he kissed the (h/c), the latter spilling more moans as he pressed his tongue sloppily against the first year's lips. The blue-haired male endulged in the third year, opening his mouth as he quickly undressed himself.

Toono was shaking, he was caught by Yuri, quickly after Tamura had snatched Kashima. He felt guilty, when he brought (m/n) here he knew there was going to be some action but he didn't expect for them to immediately pounce on the (h/c), pushing him to the floor and tearing off his clothes even though (m/n) had somewhat agree to this. Will he have to go through this as well if he still has his virginity by the end lf the month?

There was the thought of Akemi however, who seemed to be obsessed with the (h/c), brutally prepping him and immediately soiling (m/n)'s virginity without a second thought. The others follow suit, having their way with him one way or another, and Toono felt so responsible for the current fucked out state of the third year. He had came here because Toono begged the (h/c) after all.

"K-Kashima?!" He hadn't expect Kashima to indulge into all of this, maybe he should've based on the words of aspiration leaning into adoration of the (h/c) from the blue-haired male.

Kashima gently pulled up the (h/c) all while pressing his lips onto the latter while settling him into his lap. He unbuckled his pants as he licked ferverently on the roof of (m/n)'s tongue, their teeth clashing together.

His fingers went low, tracing down the (h/c) muscly thighs, who was reknowned as a volleyball player fyi, and down on the underside of his balls, reaching into his delicate hole. An index finger slipped in, testing the waters as (m/n) whimpered into his mouth.

Kashima opened his eyes to see (m/n) cutely perched on his lap, in his eyes, with the other members all looking at them in the background. Fuck, he felt like he was an adult star filming a porno.

His finger wiggled inside, feeling cum gushed all over (m/n)'s rim, spilling out and dripping onto floor. The (h/c)'s body twitched at the sensation, pulling away from Kashima to rest his head on the first year's shoulders. "Haa...haa..." He panted heavily, his eyes pressed close as Kashima began to fish out the remaining sperm that was spilled deep inside the (h/c).

"You took so much, (m/n)." Kashima whispered, in awe or teasingly, he couldn't tell. "Such a good boy." The (h/c)'s cock twitched at the compliment, Kashima taking note of it as he kissed the shell of his ear. "You're such a good sport, aren't you?" He was definitely teasing the third year, peppering more kisses down his neck as (m/n) nodded in response.

"I'm glad you're okay with this." Kashima pulled his finger out, satisfied with the small pool under his lap as he hoisted (m/n) up properly, letting his now exposed dick slide between the (h/c)'s asscheeks.

(m/n) was huffing and shivering at the teasing. He was used to the others pummelling straight into his hole. "I-I'm okay with it. It's fun?" Kashima laughed at his response as he kissed (m/n)'s cheek. "If you say so."

Suddenly, Kashima humped the (h/c), creating friction between the base of his cock with (m/n)'s ass. The third year cried out, expecting the former to push inside already but Kashima made no move to do so, only grunting and rubbing his dick in between his ass, feeling precum slide down all over the base of his penis and (m/n)'s ass.

"Put it in. Please just put it in already." The third year begged Kashima, pressing down his trimmed nails into Kashima's shoulder blades. His (e/c) eyes glossy to spill more tears of pleasure as he bit his bottom lip harshly.

"I know, I know but I gotta get it wet first." He cooed into the (h/c), all the while playing with the mound of flesh in his hands, fuck (m/n) always had such a great ass, possibly due to the intense sport he's active in.

After a while and some snarky comments from Tamura, Kashima lifted the (h/c)'s thighs shakily, and gently guided his tip to kiss (m/n)'s hole. Slowly, he pushed (m/n) down onto his dick, his puckered anus clenching and unclenching every time and inch passed through and Kashima didn't stop until the whole base was in.

"So good." Kashima whispered as he pecked the shivering (h/c). Suddenly, he gripped (m/n) by his ass and brought him up and down his cock. The (h/c) whining loudly as he wrapped his arms around the first year as he threw his head back, relishing in the pleasure as he gets fucked at a nice pace.

Kashima thrusted his hips up at the same time as (m/n) bouncing on his own, they leaned in and shoved their tongues against each other, pressing their chests as Kashima scratched his nails into (m/n)'s ass. He could feel someone pulling his legs apart, to give the others a view. How fucking perverted can the Yaribu be?

Toono was gawking at the whole scenario, (m/n) riding his friend, Kashima who seemed to be more or less open to the whole idea. The other members were having fun just watching the whole thing especially Yuri and Akemi. And what the hell Kashima! Weren't they supposed to pretend to be boyfriends anyways??

Tamura seemed to read his thoughts as he pulled Toono by his arm. "Your boyfriend looks to be having a lot of fun. Sounds like you can do it too, can't ya?" Toono felt dread as Tamura dragged him to the center and tossed him in front of the two that were fucking like rabbits.

"Toono- mmngg-!" Kashima was cut off as he felt (m/n) tightening around him. The (h/c) tossed his head back, his own untouched penis shooting watered down cum on Kashima's chest. "Annh ah haa..." The first year stopped his actions, feeling the wetness on his abdomen. Kashima had just realised the look on Toono, their whole facade of them fake dating was hanging on by a thread. (m/n) was confused on why he stopped.

The (h/c) glanced back to see the brunette who had brought him here, who indirectly brought him to this cursed world of pleasure through his pity. He looked back to Kashima and figured out there was more to them than it looks. He pulled away from Kashima and lifted himself up, hearing a popped wet noise and noted that Kashima hadn't cum yet.

"Toono." He motioned Toono to cum over here and the latter obliged, under the watchful gaze of the club president. The brunette crawled closer and hesitantly kneeled on the futon.

"Yes, (m/n)-senpai?"

(m/n) stared at Toono before leaning in to kiss him, the brunette frozen at the act of the gentle press, his heart beating loudly in his chest.

After a second, the (h/c) pulled away, his face full of lust and debauchery as he gazed into Toono's green eyes. Nothing was said between them before Akemi clasped his hands on Toono's shoulders. "It's your turn, Toono!" "H-Huh?!" "All of us have done it, with the exception of my cute boyfriend, and the only one is you!"

"N-NO PLEASE! I STILL WANT TO KEEP MY VIRGINITY-" "You don't have to give your virginity." They turned to Shikatani who was playing around with a dildo near his crotch. "You can just let (m/n) give you...head." Akemi gleamed. "That settles it!"

Immediately, Toono's pants were ripped off and he was horrified at the speed of the Yaribu members. (m/n) was maneuvered onto his hands and knees as he layed his face near the first year's crotch. Kashima was still hesitant behind them, his dick still hard albeit getting colder by the moment.

"Are...are you both okay with this?" Kashima looked to be mixed in thoughts, both of his crushes layed bare before him and he wasn't sure to proceed with Toono's hesitation, although it usually pains him to see with another, he would made an exception for (m/n) for he adore the (h/c) just as much.

"It's either you getting a blowjob or Yuri gets to fuck you." Akemi whispered into Toono's ears to which the latter screamed at the thought. "Yes yes! I'm okay with it- aahnggh!" He was cut off as (m/n) licked at his underwear, where his penis was tucked in and immediately he felt Akemi tugging it off.

The (h/c) licked a stripe up the virgin's cock, suckling at the tip, hearing the cracked moans from Toono. Maybe he was becoming one of them, a slutty stupid sex-addicted maniac. He could feel Kashima coming up behind him and hugging his back.

Kashima looked to Toono, who was drooling and his hips shuddering, the latter noticing the staring just nodded before throwing his head back to let out another quivered moan.

Receiving the green light, Kashima immediately slipped his hands down (m/n)'s bottom, and pushed himself inside, eager to chase his lost release previously. The (h/c) choked down at the surprise and Toono yelped at the sudden constriction on his penis.

The sounds of skin slapping skin couldn't be more obvious now that Kashima's pace turned rougher, he couldn't help but gaze at (m/n)'s pounding ass against his crotch and Toono's flushed face, this was heaven for him. Every time Kashima pushed forward, (m/n) was forcibly deepthroated onto Toono, his cock reaching down his throat and the (h/c) felt his anus fluttering down Kashima.

The blue-haired male panted as he delved himself inside (m/n) further, his eyes locked onto Toono's widened ones. The brunette couldn't contain himself, his hands grasping at (h/c) hair, clutching at the roots every time his tongue swirled around the veins of his base.

Kashima moaned loudly as he shoved his hips deep into (m/n)'s ass, cumming deep inside the (h/c) who gasped on Toono's cock, his cheeks full. Toono came a second later, mewlimg as he pulled out of (m/n)'s mouth halfway through, spraying his cum on the third year's face. The (h/c) couldn't cum anymore. Though, he felt Kashima's hand stroke his genital as he attempted to finish the third year but all he could muster was a small pool of liquid.

(m/n) fell on the thin futon on his side, his chest taking in deep breaths as he closed his eyes shut. He could hear the Yaribu members surrounding him, Akemi praising Toono and Kashima before he knelt beside the (h/c).

"You should join our club, (m/n)-chan. You'd make an excellent bitch for our school!" He spoke as he caressed the (h/c)'s cheek, his blue eyes peering down with a glint (m/n) couldn't recognise.

All (m/n) could mumble out was a "No.", before promptly passing out in the room. Immediately pulled into a world of sleep and he would wake up in Akemi's room the next day, his body clean and sore.

-

"(m/n). I've heard you went to Yaribu's gangbang..." A voice called out to him, (m/n) looked behind him and saw his vice-captain, Daisuke Yuichi, with a frown on his face, standing under the door ledge of his classroom.

The (h/c) groaned as he palmed himself in the forehead, standing up to clean his desk, he had gazed outside his windows after class ended. A much needed afterthought recollected in his brain.

Three days had passed and true to Toono's promise, the Yaribu club no longer harassed the volleyball captain, only chirping in an offer to fuck or two but none went as far as previous attempts. Toono wouldn't look him in the eye anymore while Kashima was more than happy to interact with him whenever they run into each other.

Akemi acted a bit odd with him since then, his eyes lingering on the (h/c) a second longer than it should, Itome no longer wanting to acknowledge (m/n) however. Shikatani and Yuri treated him like usual and Tamura with his constant insults. Like the news of his virginity spreading, him joining the Yaribu on a Wednesday evening also sparked rumours of his cherry popped amongst most of the student body.

Daisuke had always been wary of the Yaribu Club, never liking their inappropriate activities nor the sexual innuendos they brought about. So when his precious captain was particularly targeted, it made him more frustrated nonetheless.

"It wasn't as bad. I did it just so they would get off my back." (m/n) hauled his bag, exiting his class with Daisuke in tow to the direction of their gym for their next practice.

"If you had come to me, I could've done it better than them."

(m/n) paused in his tracks, looking back at his vice-captain, whose gaze was fixated on the floor. His mouth moved to speak but pursed into a smile. "That wasn't the point and..." Black eyes looked up into (e/c).

"I'm sure you would have."

Daisuke was silent before he cracked out a chuckle as he jogged towards the (h/c), wrapping and arm around the latter's shoulders. (m/n) smiled at the thought of Daisuke and the Yaribu Club.

Maybe he should visit them once in a while.

[END SCENE].

[unedited]

Afterthoughts :

Well that took me four days, haha. I'm new here and I can't believe this weird thing is my debut fic💀. I hope you guys weren't bored halfway through and please refer to me as Ouka. I'd love to be friends and Daisuke would feature more on separate fics more frequently!

I will edit the scenes especially the start and the end because they felt kinda wonky and awkward to me, especially Toono's part because it was ooc imo. All respectful criticism is appreciated and do leave a comment! I would love to hear your words on this blasphemy.

I apologise for the usage of _-san, _-chan, _-senpai and the likes. After watching the anime, to gain their sense of character, I couldn't help but feel it made more sense to read (?) although the usage is not constant (eg Daisuke not calling reader with san) but i will edit it!

[suzukiblu]

excerpt from in-progress "timebending with Zuko" fic

Zuko wakes up and everything hurts.

Most specifically, his scar hurts.

That . . . doesn’t make sense, he thinks, and reaches for it automatically. A strong hand catches his wrist before he can touch it, which seems–fair, yes. Probably a good idea, anyway, because spirits does it hurt. Just . . . so much.

“Uncle?” he asks reflexively, attempting to open his eyes. It’s surprisingly difficult. And Uncle is in Ba Sing Se, of course, but he’s on his back on a futon or bedroll or something similar and someone’s sitting beside him and his head is swimming and he’s injured, clearly, so options for who said “someone” might be are limited, really.

So it’s not Uncle, obviously, but . . .

“Nephew,” Uncle says, very quietly, and Zuko . . . blinks.

At least, half-blinks. The one eye’s in too much pain to open.

The ceiling is metal, he notes absentmindedly. That’s . . . odd. He was in the palace, wasn't he?

“What happened?” he asks, vaguely bemused. Uncle pauses in a very concerning way, and Zuko has about three heart attacks about just how badly he doesn’t want to know what he’s about to say before–

“The Agni Kai,” Uncle says, very carefully. “Do you remember it?”

Zuko frowns–just with the one side of his face, because again, his scar hurts right now. To the point that his whole body feels wrong, does his scar hurt right now.

“Um–which one?” he asks, because there’s been about a dozen this month alone, and frankly he’s getting really sick of fighting them at this point but if the old guard of nobles are just going to keep dragging everything out like this–

“With your father, Nephew,” Uncle says, very carefully.

Zuko . . . blinks.

“Oh,” he says, vaguely perplexed. Uncle never talks to him about that. “Yeah, I remember that. What about it?”

“Do you remember what happened?” Uncle says.

“The part where I disgraced myself or the part where he burned my face?” Zuko says, because it’s so fucked up and awful and horrible that he can’t even get upset about it anymore, except when he’s really upset about it. But if Uncle’s bringing it up, presumably he has a good reason to be, so . . . “Or the whole ‘go find the Avatar who no one even believes exists anymore or you can never come home again’ part?”

“. . . all of that, yes,” Uncle says, still sounding very careful. Zuko frowns a little–again with just the one side of his face–and then looks over at him. His body still feels weird and wrong, but . . .

But . . .

They’re on a ship, he realizes. A Fire Nation one.

Well, explains the metal ceiling.

It doesn’t explain why Uncle is wearing red armor and a topknot like he hasn't in years, though, or why he looks so unspeakably sad.

“Um,” Zuko says, and attempts to sit up. His head immediately starts swimming even worse, and Uncle catches his shoulders and keeps him pinned against the . . . futon? Looks like a futon, yeah. “Where are we, exactly?”

“We are aboard a ship,” Uncle says. “I . . . may have slightly commandeered it.”

“. . . you paid for it, right?” Zuko asks, a little skeptical at that idea.

“Yes, Nephew, I did,” Uncle says, giving him a very tired, pained smile. Zuko doesn’t feel much better, seeing it.

“Is someone dead?” he asks, because he can’t think of anything else that would make Uncle look that way.

“Ah–no, no one has died,” Uncle says.

“Then what’s wrong?” Zuko asks warily.

“. . . you are injured, Nephew,” Uncle says, slowly. Zuko frowns, bemused. “And your father . . . I did not know he was going to do this. I am so sorry.”

Zuko . . . pauses. Looks around the room again, and then realizes: he knows this room, doesn’t he. He knows this ship.

This is the same ship he woke up on after the Agni Kai.

“Hold that thought, Uncle,” he says, then lifts his hands and looks at them. They . . . well, they are his hands, obviously.

But they’re not his hands, obviously.

“Huh,” he says, frowning in bemusement at them; turning them around like he half-expects them to stop being a thirteen year-old’s or something equally ridiculous. They don’t. They are very definitely a thirteen year-old’s hands.

Specifically, his thirteen year-old hands.

Huh.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says after a moment, putting his hands back down and glancing back to Uncle, who’s obviously the more important concern. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I took you into that meeting,” Uncle says, his voice tight. “And I watched the Agni Kai. And I did nothing to stop any of it.”

“I know,” Zuko says. “But it wasn’t your fault.”

“It was,” Uncle says, his smile a sad and terrible thing. “You were there because of my actions. My mistakes.”

“You’re not the one who wanted to sacrifice all those soldiers,” Zuko says. “Or the one who decided to throw fire at my face.”

“You were there because of me,” Uncle repeats, his voice tight and his smile no less terrible. It occurs to Zuko, briefly, that Uncle must be thinking of Lu Ten.

He only ever looks like that when he’s thinking about Lu Ten, so . . .

“Uncle,” he says. “Really. It’s not your fault.”

“Nephew,” Uncle says, and his voice is somehow even tighter. Zuko tries to get up again, and his head swims again, and Uncle moves to stop him again. This time he grabs onto Uncle’s wrists and uses them to pull himself up, and then . . .

Well, then he’s sitting up, at least.

So that’s something.

He tilts his head and his hair slips into his eyes. It’s loose, and long. Not shaved on the sides yet, like he wore it the last time he was thirteen. He supposes he should cut it, but then again, why should he? He's not changing anything, after all.

Except for this conversation, he supposes, because that went very differently last time.

. . . hm.

"Uncle," he says one more time, and reaches out for him. Uncle doesn’t seem to understand what he’s trying to do, so he has to reach out a little farther, and then Uncle makes the connection and leans in and lets him wrap his arms around him and alright, yes: that’s better, Zuko thinks, and clings to him.

Just a little, perhaps, but . . .

Yes. He clings to him.

Uncle wraps his arms around him in turn, very carefully, and makes an awful sound.

“My boy,” he chokes. “I’m so–I’m so–”

“I forgive you,” Zuko lies, because of course there’s nothing to forgive.

But of course Uncle doesn’t understand that, does he.

[ladymercysletters]

Aegon the Soft

Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count : 1474

Warnings: fluff

A/N: I haven't written in years so please bear with this. I just have some very soft feelings for the Targ siblings. All they need is a hug I SWEAR! anyways, hope you like it

When Aegon first married, he tried to be around you as little as possible. It was best that way, everyone else who should technically love him in his life never has; why would you be any different. The bedding ceremony had been performed; he had done his duty. He must only put a few heirs in you and that would be that. He finished that thought with the downing of his drink. Slamming the cup down on the table his men cheered around him, filling his cup as the merriment continued.

The hour was late, or early – who knew, when Aegon and his men finally dragged themselves back to the Red Keep. Sober knights greeted them and took the prince back to his rooms, depositing him on his bed.

“My Wife! Bring my wife to me!” he shouted, lolling about on his sheets and he struggled to stand.

“My prince, the hour is late an…”

“I know the hour. I said now!”

__________________________________________________________

Was he on a ship. He must be on a ship. His stomach rolled and churned so much it must be the waves on the ocean. Blinking blearily into the sunlight he vaguely felt fingers running through his hair. Aegon finally managed to focus his eyes on his bedside table, and the jug of water placed on it. The soft touch continued to caress his forehead and brush through the silver strands falling in front of his eyes.

“Good morning husband. How are you feeling this morning?” Aegon blinked and his mind cleared slightly. His wife was in his bed. You were stroking his hair from his face and asking if he was well? Thoughts flew through his head and as he jolted from the knowledge you were right behind him, his stomach reminded him of his current state and he rolled ungracefully from the bed. He landed sprawled on the floor causing a sharp gasp to leave your mouth as you watched your severely hungover husband groan and roll around tangled in sheets before moving like a slug to the open doors of his balcony and slamming them close behind him.

You couldn’t see him like this. He hadn’t even managed to face you, but he knew he must look terrible and there was something in him, ridiculous as it may be, that wanted to keep you under the illusion that he wasn’t a complete failure. Once he’d finished evacuating the contents of his stomach off his balcony, and damningly close to his brother who was just making his way onto the training grounds for his morning spar with Cole, he inhaled deeply before steeling himself to walk back inside.

Opening the doors to his rooms, he saw you sitting prettily on the end of his bed. Hair fallen perfectly to frame your face, wearing only in a linen shift you had presumably slept in by his side all night – surely his wife had been carved by angels. Bustling in the room brought him back and he drew the sheets tighter around his waist. Maids flitted in and out, making up the bath and serving breakfast on a table set up at the end of the bed.

“Better?” you said shyly smiling at him. “I thought you might need something to line your stomach – and possibly a bath.” You trailed off. You’re right. He smelled revolting.

He doesn’t quite understand how or why you could be so nice to him, he thinks as he sinks into the steaming perfumed water. Especially as a vague memory of the previous night comes back to him, he’d stumbled back into the keep, pissed as a newt, and demanded you come to him to fulfil your wifely duties. Closing his eyes, Aegon felt his muscles relax in the warmth. Even his head lessened from the soothing lavender scent.

This time he felt your presence behind him before your touch. Softly, again, you carded your fingers through his hair, moving him gently forward so you could wash him. Your gentle touch was so foreign to him. Even when he was washed by the servants, they were never this gentle with him. The warm water cascaded down his back, your fingers working a floral scented soap into his hair and pressing firmly against his scalp. The sensation was heavenly. The warmth of your body surrounded him as you leant him back again to rinse the soap from his hair.

Once he was cleaned you set a small pillow at the back of the tub for him to rest his head on. Though he was a prince he was sure he had never been as pampered as this. He stared up into your face as he leant his head back, taking in the soft fluttering of your eyelashes and the curve of your cheeks and lips.

Though you had been married for over two moons now Aegon didn’t think he had ever really looked at you before now. Surely he would have lingered around you more if he had seen what a beauty he had married. Your mere presence brought him peace, and whilst he could not understand why you were being so kind to him, his heart overstepped his mind and let him live in this fantasy for just a moment longer; practically jumping from his chest when he felt you lay soft kisses along his hairline. Your warm smell invaded his nostrils and his eyes fluttered open to discover your neck and cleavage so close to his face. Your skin looked so smooth, and his lips ached for him to lean closer and place a reverent kiss to your collar.

You took a towel and held it out for him, helping him dry as he stepped out of the tub. His eyes rolled over your body as he dressed, tucking his loose shirt into linen britches as he watched you arrange the chairs around the breakfast table.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” his voice wavered ever so slightly at the question falling from his mouth.

“Aegon?” you replied. Softly breathing his name as you turned to face him. He was sure the sweet sound of your voice confirmed you had been sent from the gods. “I am here to care for you. I am your wife…” His face fell slightly at that, which you saw. Of course you were there for your duty. The thought brought back his words from the previous evening. Wifely duties. You were fulfilling your side of the bargain. “… and I like you.” You finished.

You studied his face as he looked at you. His delicate features held together by perfect milky skin. The rounded cupids bow of his lips forming a soft pout that was hard to resist. Though you’d seen his anger and drunkenness many times since your wedding and heard worse from the ladies of court before your arrival, you’d also seen the small sad look on his face whenever he’d leave a council meeting, or even just at dinner with his family. Although his mother had been nothing but kind and gentle with you, you could see this favour wasn’t extended to her own son, and his grandfather was even worse – openly mocking him with his father, the king when surely, they should have been teaching him.

Thoughts brought you back to reality as you stepped closer to him. Looking into his eyes, the pale violet seeming deeper towards his iris and wider as they searched yours for an answer. You softly took his wrist into your hands, sliding your fingers down to intertwine with his own you placed a small kiss between the crease in his brow.

“I am your wife. I know you did not choose me for love, or choose me at all, but I hope that you will know how much I care for you, and one day maybe you may care for me.” Aegon’s throat almost closed up, and his eyes betrayed him as they began to water. His thumbs barely moved to brush the backs of your hand bringing them up to place a kiss on your knuckles – gently leading you to sit next to him at the end of his bed.

The words struggled to form in his throat; a combination of a hangover and sudden emotion rendering him surprisingly catatonic. Your hand moved to stroke to side of his face, bringing his eyes back to your own.

“I will do my best” he whispered, leaning into the warmth of your palm. “I will do my best for you, and for our line.”

“I know you will. You will prove anyone who doubts you wrong.” You spoke, touching your forehead to his own. His eyes slipped closed once more, happy to bask in the bliss of your presence for as long as the gods would allow him.

[blowjob-horseguy]

Steve opened his eyes and above him was a pale man with long curly hair. It fell like buoyant curtains of ringlets from either side of his head, obscuring their surroundings. The man frowned down at him with a fierceness that made Steve think for a second they had met in a tavern one night and Steve had done something to slight him.

Steve opened his mouth to speak and felt a sharp edge be pushed harder onto his throat. Steve's vocal cords froze. Whatever he did, it was really bad. Steve runs through a quick memory catalogue of all the men he's slighted recently and how, so he could know what to start apologizing profusely for.

Did he sleep with his woman? Did he sleep with his man? Did he win too much money from him? Did he lose too much money to him? None of those seemed right.

He considered briefly that he perhaps slept with the man himself but quickly dismissed the idea. If he had bedded anyone with hair like that and this passionate a disposition, he would not need to search for the memory.

He looked closer at his features. Hair so long it could easily be a maidens, and so dark it was almost blue. Thick, furrowed brows and lips thin and white, pressed tight together, sandwiched by dimpled cheeks. His skin was pale enough to look sickly and almost green in hue. Steve definitely would have remembered this face had he seen it before.

"You are awake" said the man.

His voice dragged like wood over coarse sand: like he wasn't used to speaking outloud. Steve got a glimpse of his teeth, Sharp and thin, unlike any other human teeth he had ever seen.

A chill ran down Steve's spine as he realized why.

This is no man; this is a Merrow!

Steve's mother had told him tales of these creatures.

When Steve answered the call to the sea, his mother warned him; beware of the sea maidens they may seem beautiful on the shore, but when they lure you to their home you see their true colors. Green skin and scaley behinds. Teeth sharp enough to tear through flesh, and claws the same.

The men are said to be even uglier, with the faces of hogs and catfish, and they drag sailors down to their dens to enslave them for eternity.

Steve has always been cautious about these monsters; avoiding the bright red cap that was the telltale sign of a merrow. The others on the ship have always ridiculed him for it, and now here he is in one of theirs's clutches.

and it's not... unattractive. Strangely.

"Speak" The merrow demanded

"Please let me go" Steve spoke, his voice breaking embarrassingly.

"Go where" the merrows eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Back to my ship."

"You will attack me."

"No, I won't I promise. I'm a peaceful man, very peaceful. Couldn't hurt a fly, me. Wouldn't even know where to start."

The jagged thing at Steve's neck pressed into his skin a little harder, Steve tried to lift his chin as far as it could go to get away, but he felt a small sting as the device broke his skin.

"All men lie."

"I'm not lying, I would never lie" Steve lied.

While far from the swashbuckling type, he has never shied away from a fight, especially when it comes to protecting his fellow crewmates. He's only been on the ship a few years, but he has improved his fighting form considerably from the naive nobleman's son he once was.

While he's not going to say it out loud, he probably would attack the thing, if given the opportunity.

The merrow didn't respond, just bored dark pools of black into Steve's soul. Steve silently pleaded back with his own eyes, just wanting to get out of this situation alive.

"Release me, I beg of you. I will cause you no trouble."

"I do not believe you, you will leave this place and call fleets of your men here to hunt me down." The merrow said panic evident in his voice now.

Steve's own panic subsided for a moment and he realized this creature did not seek to kill him for pleasure, but to avoid being killed itself.

Steve took a chance and lifted his hand to touch the pale arm that held the merrow aloft above him in a gesture he hoped conveyed comfort. He did so slowly, as not to startle, and gently so the merrow knew he had no intention to harm. The merrow eyed him wildly and with fear, but it allowed itself to be touched.

It's skin was cool to the touch and droplets fell from its skin as Steve wrapped his hand around its wiry forearm.

Steve tried to reach for his signature charm, the one his father swears he learned from him.

"I promise, I mean you no harm. I have no fleets of men. Half my fellows are so foolish they could not hunt down their own behinds" Steve said.

The merrow stared at him, eyes shifting about, looking him up and down for any hint of deception.

"I will not hurt or attack you, please just remove this device from my neck."

The Merrow seemed to steal it's resolve for a moment. then slowly the pressure was removed from Steve's neck. and the merrow slunk into water.

Steve sat up on the rocky shore. Without the creature's hair blocking out their surroundings, Steve saw he was in some sort of watery cave. Dark grey walls surrounded him as far as he could see, and a vast black lake stretched out in front of him. If only Steve could remember how he got here.

He looked back at the creature and saw the object that had been held to his neck was a jagged, broken shell that hadn't yet been worn smooth by the ocean. The merrow still held it nervously as it bobbed in the water at Steve's feet.

Even with half of it's body submerged, the merrow was nearly eye level with Steve. So either the water is shallow here, or the creature is of substantial size.

"Does this mean I'm free to leave?" Steve asked.

The merrow shook it's head. Black curls shaking out droplets of water with the motion.

"I cannot be sure that you won't return with weapons or more men" it said, "I searched your person while you were asleep, I took the dagger that hung around your middle, and the one on your leg."

How long had Steve been unconscious?

"Did you steal me away from my ship?" he had to ask.

The merrow looked offended at the suggestion.

"Steal you away? You intruded onto my home!" it said as it started rising out of the water. A jet black tail emerging slightly from the grey ocean.

Steve shrunk down and put his hands up in surrender.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know. I have no memory of arriving here."

The merrow was taken aback at that and shrunk down into the water again.

"You don't remember?" it asked

Steve shook his head.

"You washed up onto my shore. No man has ever seen my shore before. Your treasures wash up here when your ships crash in the sea outside, but no man has ever washed up with them before." it said, clearly at unease with the idea.

Steves heart fell. Does this mean his ship crashed? Is he the lone survivor? he doesn't think he can take the thought of being left without the friends he's made on that vessel.

"Did- did anything else wash up with me?" Steve asked.

The merrow shook its head.

"There hasn't been a wreck near here in months."

Steve felt his spirit lift. That could mean his crew mates are alive and well!

But then how did he end up here? Steve tries to remember. His head aches something fierce.

"Why does your face look like that?" The merrow asked.

Rude.

"My head hurts"

The creature cocked its head to one side.

"You creatures are strange and delicate. Have you hurt yourself?"

"Hurt myself? I only just woke up! It's more likely you hurt me, than I hurt myself!"

Steve clutched his head in one hand and gestured at the creature with the other. He feels rather helpless in this situation.

"I did not hurt you! I removed you from the water. You creatures are not supposed to be in there!" The thing pointed towards Steve with its shell, as if illustrating what 'creatures' it was talking about.

"Well then, however I got to be there is how I hurt my head" Steve explained, aggravated by this easily excitable monster he's found himself with.

The creature frowned at him for a moment and then faster than anything it dove under the water. It's tail following behind it in a lithe arc like a sea serpent.

Perhaps it is a sea serpent. A strange shrill sea serpent with very soft skin.

Almost as fast as it left, the thing burst back out of the water.

Steve flinched away from the splash.

"Hold out your hand" the merrow demanded.

Steve held both his hands closer to his body.

"Why?"

The merrow lunged forward and grabbed one of Steve's hands.

Steve yelled, startled, his feet scrambled at the stones beneath him trying to get away from the shockingly strong and clamy hand that held his arm tight, but his leather soles slipped on the wet rock and Steve stayed put.

And then something slimy and oddly coarse fell into his palm.

The merrow shoved Steve's own hand towards his face.

It was seaweed.

"Wh-"

"Eat it."

Steve's eyes shot up to meet the merrow's.

"Raw?!"

"It helps me when my head hurts. It will help you."

Steve grimaced at the yellowish-brown pile in his hand.

"Is it medicinal in some way?"

"It is food."

"Ah."

The merrow starred at him expectingly.

Steve starred right back.

"I'm not going to eat this."

"Then your head will continue to ache."

"I don't think the lack of edible gunk is the cause of my headache, I believe it to be the same thing that's causing my amnesia" Steve said shaking the offending object out of his hand, "I must have hit my head when I was washing up on your shore."

"Like I said; you are strange delicate creatures," the merrow reached out his unoccupied hand towards Steve, "come into the water."

Steve leaned as far away as he could manage.

"So you can drown me?"

The Merrow rolled his eyes. It looked remarkably human in that instance.

"So I can heal you"

He doesn't know if it's delirium or blood loss, but Steve grabbed the pale hand in front of him and slid gently into the water.

The creature wrapped one arm around his waist and pulled him closer to it. Steve felt the scales of it's tale press against his thighs through his trousers as he was held aloft in the freezing water. His feet dangled and he couldn't feel a bottom to the lake, nor to the creatures tail.

The merrow threw the shell that was in it's other hand away somewhere and grabbed a handful of the black water. It brought it's hands up, dripping the water onto Steves head. The cold shock seemed to ease his pain. Steve closed his eyes at the relief.

He felt an even pressure on the top of his head. A tingling sensation washed over him, trickling from the point of pressure down his neck and over his shoulders. It sent Steve's body shivering.

He opened his eyes and was met by two dark eyes staring back at him. The merrow was less than an inch from his face. one of it's hands was firmly planted between his shoulder blades, and the other was atop his head emitting the magical sensation.

"You had a bump on your head."

"Had?"

"I rid you of it."

Steve felt the hand trail down from the top of his head through his hair- still wet from whatever circumstances lead him here- and down his shoulder.

He does not understand why a monster would heal him of a headache, but as he is held steady in its strong arms and feels it's breath against his lips he doesn't think it wise to ask too many questions.

"Thank you." He said.

The merrow let go of him, and Steve pulled himself back up onto the shore.

He heard a wet thunk beside him and turned to see the merrow had joined him on the rock. Its body was facing Steve and it's tail was splayed out in front of it bent at the midpoint as if the thing had knees.

It's tail alone was twice the length of Steve's entire body and it tapered along its length until exploding out into 2 wide tail fins that had the jagged edges of burned parchment.

Suddenly the creature unbent it's tail, laying it across Steve's body and curling the end slightly around his waist. it was surprisingly heavy and the large scales had the texture of smooth river stones against his abdomen.

Steve looked bewildered at the creatures face, who had the same fierce and angry look as when Steve first woke up.

"So you will not run away." it explained.

"how many times do I have to tell you, I will bring no harm to you, even if I escape."

"I cannot take that chance."

"How long will you keep me here then?"

The tail wrapped halfway around Steve's waist constricted slightly, almost causing him lose his balance. The creature beside him leaned in menacingly.

"You will stay here until I can be sure you can be trusted." it said.

"And when will that be, hmm? What could possibly convince you?" Steve asked.

The creature looked down at itself for a moment, seemingly thinking of a solution.

"I- I don't know. I will. I will know it when I know it."

"Oh! You will know it when you know it. Thats fantastic." Steve spat.

"Well you have done nothing to prove your trustworthiness to me thus far" The creature spat back.

"Exactly! I have done nothing! I have not attacked you, I have not tried to escape, I have made no attempts on your life. I have been a model captive! Whereas you, foul creature that you are, have threatened my life, stolen my belongings, and tried to feed me muck from the bottom of the ocean!" Steve had snapped, pushed to far by this infernal creature and it's damp dank lair "And now I find you have no plan for my release. You know, my mother used to tell me tales about you creatures, but she neglected to mention just how stupid you are!"

The creature just looked at him, dumbstruck by his outburst.

It uncurled it's tale from around Steve's waist and moved it back into the water. It slid it's body so it was sitting beside Steve, instead of facing him.

"What is your name?" the merrow asked.

"What?" Steve replied

"What is your name?"

"Is this some kind of trick?"

"No. You say you have been a model captive; I wish to be a model captor. What is your name?" it looked at him with pleading eyes.

Steve sighed and ran a hand over his face. What has his life come to?

"Steve, my name is Steve." He said.

"And you do not eat seaweed, Steve."

"I-" Steve groaned, "I eat seaweed, of course I do, I live on a ship. I just don't eat it raw and fresh from the bottom of a pit is all."

"So how do you eat it." The creature asked.

"You let it dry and cure, you boil it over a flame. Do you know what flame is?" Steve asked.

The creature rolled its eyes again.

"Yes, I know what flame is. If I build you one will you eat?"

Steve was taken aback. The monster is worried about him eating?

"I- yes, I suppose" Steve stammered, "do you also have a pot to boil water in?"

"A bucket washed up last month, will that do?"

"Why yes that will do greatly" Steve said.

The creature quickly disappeared into the water.

Steve sat back on his hands; confused and... oddly touched by the gesture.

Despite the creature's constant suspicion, Steve hadn't even considered just swimming out of here. Mainly due to the fact that he has no idea where he is, if there is land near here, where his ship is, or even how to find the opening to this cave in such dark conditions.

He is tired and befuddled, his wet clothing is sticking to his skin uncomfortably, he is chilled by the air and sore from the hard rock, and now that he thinks about it, he is near starving. So, he truly does appreciate the Merrow's offer to build him a fire.

The merrow reappeared holding a rusty bucket aloft the water's surface. It handed the bucket to Steve, who found dry wood, flint, and a knife at the bottom of it.

Steve smiled.

"Where did you find all this stuff?" he asked

"Treasures wash up here after shipwrecks, I told you that before," The merrow said pulling itself back onto the rock, "now would you like to build the fire yourself, or shall I?"

.....

Steve started the fire, closer to the cave wall than to the edge of the water, and set the bucket, now full of water, carefully in the middle of the flames. It will take awhile before the water boils, but that just gives Steve time to lay his clothes out to dry.

He rid himself of his trousers first, the wet denim was the greatest offender to his skin, and his white linen shirt came after it. He laid them both flat in front of the fire.

He looked around, the creature was still gathering food. He's grateful, he feels oddly modest about being in the nude in front of the merrow.

Steve was crouched down warming his hands in front of the flames when he heard a telltale splash from behind him. He covered himself with his hands and whipped around to see the merrow had returned with 2 handfuls of seaweed and a small fish caught in its mouth.

It looked Steve up and down from its place in the water and then released the fish from its jaws onto the rock.

"Your clothes are gone," it pointed out.

Steve gestured with his chin to where they lay in front of the fire.

"I'm drying them."

"Ah," it said lifting itself by the elbows up onto the shore, "come take this stuff from me, I can't get over to you, it's difficult to move across land in this form."

Steve walked over to the merrow and grabbed the fish and seaweed from it.

"You say in this form; do you have another?" he asked

The merrow eyed him oddly.

"I thought your mother told you of us?" it asked.

"Well, yes, but she also told me the men of your species have the faces of hogs. As you clearly do not look like a hog, I figured she may have gotten some things wrong."

The edges of the merrows mouth twitched upward. It- it's smiling!

"I have a legged form as well. I could get my cap and join you for dinner?" It said.

So, she was right about the caps too. At least Steve hasn't been paranoid about nothing.

"Thats not necessary." Steve said, though he must admit he was curious.

Steve walked back to the fire and dumped the fish and seaweed into the water that had started to form small bubbles. They still had a while to go.

Steve turned back to the merrow, who was sitting on the rock, splayed out, scales and all, like some kind of ancient stone carving. It looked up at Steve, waiting for him to say something. Steve felt the need to cover himself again, the gaze of this creature is just so insistent, but he thought the act would just draw more attention to the area. Instead, he decided to ask something that had been nagging at him.

"Do you have a name?"

The merrow was taken aback for a moment before it answered.

"I was called Edward once."

"Once?"

"I was banished by my people to this cave, I haven't been called anything since then." it said, eyes going sad for a moment before snapping out of it.

"Edward the Banished" Steve mumbled.

"I suppose," Edward said squirming uncomfortably.

Steve hadn't expected him to hear that.

"I left my home to follow a friend onto a pirate ship that I quickly found was made up of novices who had never seen the inside of a ship before."

Edward raised his eyebrows at that.

"I see. 'can't hunt down their own behinds' indeed."

Steve breathed out a small laugh.

"I wasn't lying."

"Hmm..." the creature's mouth flattened into a thin line once more.

It doesn't believe him, not entirely.

No matter! Steve is just glad that it calmed down enough to allow him food and freedom of movement.

When the food was finished cooking Steve brought the bucket over to where Edward was sitting, or laying... where Edward was beached.

It frowned at him.

"You are sharing with me?"

"You caught it for me," Steve said taking a bit of meat from the fish.

It was saltier than he prefers it, but at least it was food. Which reminds him.

"Did I still have my water when I arrived here?" he asks.

"The bladder you had around your belt?"

Steve nodded.

"Yes, I took it along with your knives, I thought it had potential as a weapon," The merrow said, gnawing on seaweed.

"How long was I unconscious?"

The merrow frowned at his food.

"I'm not sure. The sun was just starting to set when I found you by the mouth of the cave, and it was fully dark when you awoke."

That means it could be as little as 5- 10 minutes.

"Do you need me to bring you your water?" Edward asked still gnawing.

"I would like that yes, but where is it that you go to fetch these things."

Edward looked him in the eye, squinting to see any hint of devious intentions on his face. Steve is getting tired of the scrutiny.

"I'm not going to tell you where your knives are, but I will bring you your water." the creature said slithering away into the depths once again.

Steve sat there, bare as the day he was born, and wondered what it would take to get this thing to trust him enough to let him go.

When the merrow came back with his bladder of water Steve tried not to drink it all in one gulp. It was so refreshing, and he was so thirsty, but he doesn't know how long he will have to be here, so he needs to ration.

"I have decided how you will earn my trust." Edward said out of the blue.

Steve nearly spilt his drink in his excitement. He put his water down and wiped his chin.

"What is it?" he asked.

"You will tell me more about your ship, and I will go out in search of it to see if the stories you tell are true." it said tapping its tale against the stone it sat on in no particular rhythm. it looked nervous about this plan.

"You'll find my ship?" Steve asked, amazed at his own luck.

"You will come with me so I know where you are, and I'm not giving you back your weapons, and I will keep tight hold of you, and if I find your ship and it is not the novices you said it was, I will leave you stranded on a sand bar," it said sternly.

"Okay! what do you want to know first?" Steve asked leaning forward, excited to get the process started.

"Tomorrow, you will tell me about your ship tomorrow. Now it is time to sleep" it said and then swam away.

It is a strange and confusing creature.

Still, Steve curled up on his clothes in front of the fire and eagerly laid down his head to rest. He at last sees hope of escape, and he can't wait until tomorrow.

[kkanabel]

co-pilot mischief ✫ curly concerns ✫ chapter uno

captain curly x teasing!reader

curly panics when he realizes he's attracted to his co-pilot. a mixture of professionalism and fear of making you uncomfortable are keeping him from pursuing his feelings. so, when you find out that he has a thing for you, you tease him to see how long it'll take for him to give up.

directory/m.list next chapter ⇨

words: ~3.5k

t/w: sexual references but no actual yucky (yet), reader being lowkey sadistic, cute curly <3, gn!reader/pronouns but reader wears a bra

a/n: hi. been obsessed with this video game recently—well, especially with Curly (go figure. i like fictional men). i needed to make something self-indulgent bc i just like this man way too much. and because i just want to make a world where none of them have to suffer. enjoy~ 

~jambalaya does not exist in this world~

Planned Shipment Duration: 382 Days Elapsed Transit Time: 292 Days

It had been over nine months aboard this damned ship, and Curly was just short of going mad. Not the kind of madness that came with sleep deprivation—he’d conquered that particular beast long ago, his body numb to the restless nights. No, this madness was quieter, more insidious, burrowing into his mind and refusing to leave. It trailed him through the claustrophobic halls of the Tulpar, slipping into the smallest crevices of his day-to-day. The worst part was, he knew exactly what caused it.

Or rather, who.

His co-pilot. The bane of his existence. The source of his sanity slipping through his fingers like sand.

Curly groaned and scrubbed his face with his hands, his calloused palms dragging over stubble. The cockpit was bathed in the green glow of the ship’s display panels, casting long shadows over his hunched figure. For once, he was alone. His co-pilot was off—God knows where—and he was left to grapple with the gnawing frustration that never seemed to diminish. It wasn’t the kind of irritation that burned; it simmered, steady and unyielding, until it became part of the fabric of his thoughts, melting like wax into his very being.

He could see their handwriting on the little sticky notes scattered around the console, each one an infuriatingly sweet reminder to stretch, drink water, or take a break. He tried to ignore the way those notes made him feel a little lighter, even when he wanted to crumple them up out of spite. Then there were the meals—hot, fresh, and left beside him during the long hours he spent poring over ship diagnostics on days he’d forget to come to the main lobby for food. Like clockwork, they arrived, a silent reminder that someone out there cared. Too much, in fact.

It wasn’t the fact that they’d climbed the ranks with startling efficiency or that they were nipping at his heels for his own position. But the issue wasn’t their competence. Hell, he’d been the one to recommend them to the crew. No, the problem—the real problem—was that he didn’t mind the notes. Or the meals. Or the way their laugh lingered in his head long after the joke had ended.

That was the crux of it: he didn’t mind. He cared too much.

Curly growled under his breath and pushed himself out of his chair, dropping into a push-up position before the thought could take hold again. One. Two. Three. The strain burned through his biceps and shoulders, grounding him in something tangible. In the beginning, this ritual had worked. Twenty push-ups, and he’d feel clear-headed enough to get back to work. But now? He was well into quadrupling that number, and the haze in his mind hadn’t lifted.

“Damn it,” he muttered, shifting to one-armed push-ups. Sweat beaded on his brow, but his thoughts remained stubbornly fixed.

It was their fault. The way they lingered in his peripheral vision during late-night shifts, always a step ahead of him. The way their presence filled the cockpit, electric and steady, as if the entire ship ran on their quiet energy. He hated it. He needed it.

Curly collapsed onto the floor, the cool metal pressing against his flushed skin. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the dull ceiling, and exhaled sharply. But it wasn’t their fault. It was all his.

Because no matter how many push-ups he did or how hard he worked, he couldn’t seem to outrun the one truth he hated most: he was falling for his co-pilot, and there was no way to make it stop.

It all started so innocently.

A couple of months ago, when Curly’s sleep was deteriorating thanks to the unholy cocktail of chronic insomnia and the Pony Express directive of “only indulging in five hours of sleep a night,” the signs of wear were becoming impossible to hide. His dark circles deepened, hollowing out his features, and the number of minor piloting errors he made began creeping upward. He hated slipping up, especially in front of the crew. But you had been there, catching the mistakes before anyone else could notice, your tone warm and forgiving as you covered for him without a single reproach.

“How many hours of sleep did you get last night, Captain?” you asked, glancing at him with a knowing arch of your brow. The question was less accusatory and more concerned, which somehow made it worse.

The third time you caught him in the cockpit, chugging yet another cup of bitter instant coffee, you sighed with exasperation. He barely had time to process what you were doing before you nudged him toward the door with a bottle of melatonin clutched in your hand.

“Rest, Captain,” you said firmly, standing your ground in front of him with a tilt to your chin that tolerated no argument. “Don’t go abusing yourself—and caffeine—like that. Do me a favor and take one of these with some water. I’ve got the ship tied down.”

Before he could retort, you physically pushed him through the doorway and locked the cockpit door behind him. He stared at the bottle of melatonin in his hand, blinking in confusion, his mind too fogged with exhaustion to properly argue. He barely made it to his quarters without bumping into a wall. Still, he heeded your demand.

When he woke up hours later, groggy but undeniably more refreshed than he’d felt in weeks, he returned to the cockpit to find the door unlocked and you sitting in his chair, nursing a steaming cup of water between your hands.

The smile you gave him as he walked in—small, gentle—made something in his chest falter, like the ship had hit a pocket of turbulence. He ignored it, chalking the reaction up to gratitude. “Thanks,” he muttered before reclaiming his chair.

That should have been it. A one-off moment. But it wasn’t.

The next time was when you came bounding into the cockpit, an excited glint in your eyes, holding a bundle of old films scavenged from storage. “Look what I found!” you exclaimed, dropping them onto the console as if they were treasures unearthed from a sunken ship. The crew’s old stash of classic movies. You suggested a movie night, and by the weekend, everyone was gathered in the living area, dressed in mismatched pajamas as per your insistence.

The fake day-and-night screen in the living room had been converted into a movie screen (thanks to a favor from Swansea), and you’d somehow transformed the cramped space into a cozy theater. The crew was laughing, the air thick with the buttery aroma of popcorn—smuggled aboard in direct defiance of Pony Express regulations. Swansea lounged in a corner, throwing popcorn into his mouth with perfect aim, while Daisuke and Anya shared a bag of candy bars, their laughter ringing out during the film’s funniest moments.

And then there was you, looking at the rest of the crew, a relieved smile on your face from seeing them having fun and relaxing.

You’d curled up on the couch with bunny slippers, wearing an oversized t-shirt that reached down to your knees. Curly found himself staring at the way your legs curled up in front of you, the smooth skin catching the flickering light of the screen. He shook his head and willed himself to look back at the film, feeling an odd mix of discomfort and… something else.

It wasn’t just your legs that had caught his attention. He watched your shoulders relax as you looked at the others having a good time. From your shoulders, his eyes slowly trailed up to your neck,

There was the lace halter bralette peeking out from the neckline of your shirt, delicate and intricate, its strap circling your neck like a whisper of fabric. He’d overheard you mention it in passing to Anya once, saying how they were more comfortable than traditional bras. Cute, you’d said. Anya had agreed wholeheartedly, and the two of you had launched into an entire conversation about comfortable alternatives, leaving him both bewildered and hyper-aware of the intricacies of brassiers.

That night, you’d tied your hair up, sweeping it off your face and revealing the curve of your neck. He hated how his eyes kept trailing there, lingering too long on the strap of your bralette before snapping back to the screen.

What was wrong with him?

The laughter of the crew filled the room, but Curly’s focus was elsewhere. He watched the way your shoulders relaxed as you leaned back, your smile warm and unguarded as you looked at the others enjoying themselves. It had been a rough couple of weeks, but in that moment, you looked so at ease, like you were carrying everyone’s joy on your shoulders and doing it gladly.

His gaze drifted again, following the line of your neck up to your jaw and almost to your lips before he froze, his chest tightening with realization. He was staring. Stop it, you creep. His heart thudded in his chest, the weight of his guilt sinking in. The last thing he ever wanted was to make you uncomfortable, to let you see just how hopelessly he was starting to lose control of his own feelings.

And yet, even as he looked away, forcing his attention back to the film, the memory of your smile lingered in his mind, burning as brightly as a star in space.

Later that night, after the crew had dispersed to their quarters, Curly lingered in the living area. The faint smell of popcorn still hung in the air, and empty mugs cluttered the low table, remnants of the impromptu movie night.

He hadn’t planned to stay, but you were still there, stacking empty bowls with practiced efficiency. You hummed softly as you worked, the sound low and content.

“You don’t have to clean up,” he said, his voice startlingly loud in the quiet.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, an easy smile spreading across your face. “Neither do you, Captain. Yet here you are.”

Curly looked so charming, sweeping up the crumbs from the ground with a bashful smile. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Force of habit, I guess.”

He stepped forward and started gathering stray candy wrappers. You didn’t protest, and the two of you worked in companionable silence. The only sounds were the soft clink of mugs and the occasional hum from the ship’s systems.

“Thanks for tonight,” he said suddenly, his voice quieter. He kept his eyes on the mug in his hand, turning it absently. “I think… the crew needed it.”

You paused, a little surprised. “Needed what?”

“A break. A reminder that things aren’t always so…” He trailed off, searching for the word. “Mechanical.”

You laughed softly, and the sound was warm enough to make his chest ache. “Even machines need downtime, Captain. And so do you.”

He glanced at you, his resolve faltering as you met his gaze head-on. Your eyes were steady, soft, and full of something he couldn’t quite name. For a moment, the ship felt too small, the air too thin.

“I guess I’ll work on that,” he said, forcing a crooked smile and dropping his gaze.

As the months passed, his little problem only got worse.

It started as little things.

The way Curly’s voice would soften when he said your name, like he was tasting it before letting it leave his mouth. How he always seemed to position himself between you and anything remotely dangerous during routine checks, even if the “danger” was just a loose panel or a slightly sparking wire. You noticed those things before, but they hadn’t meant much to you at the time.

But lately, you’ve started picking up on more.

Like how he fidgets whenever you lean over his chair to point something out on the cockpit screen. Or how his ears turn red if your hand brushes his when passing tools or data tablets. At first, you think it’s funny—how someone so competent and in control can get so flustered over little things. But then, there’s the moment in the Main Lobby.

You’re digging through one of the upper cabinets, on the hunt for something sweet, when you hear his boots scuff against the floor behind you.

“You’re always after the chocolate in the vending machine,” he says, leaning casually against the counter like he isn’t watching you a little too closely.

“And you’re always after the coffee,” you quip, holding up a ration bar triumphantly.

“Touché.” His lips twitch into a smile, and you can’t help but notice how his eyes linger on you just a moment too long before he turns to grab his mug from the shelf.

It’s not unusual—this kind of back-and-forth—but as you open the bar and break off a piece, you catch him glancing at you again, almost like he’s about to say something. He doesn’t, though, and the moment stretches long enough to feel... significant.

That’s when it starts clicking.

The lingering looks. The slight hesitation in his voice when he talks to you. The way he goes out of his way to make sure you’re comfortable, even when he doesn’t have to. The realization settles in your chest, warm and a little thrilling.

Does Curly like me?

Your mind starts replaying recent moments with a new lens. The way he always pulls you aside first to explain changes to the schedule. How he always offers to carry extra supplies during inspections, even when you insist you’re fine. That time he casually gave you his jacket when the living quarters were colder than usual, like it was no big deal.

“Earth to you,” Curly says, snapping you out of your thoughts. He’s holding out a water pouch, his brow slightly furrowed. “You zoned out there for a second. You okay?”

You take the pouch and give him a smile. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

You tilt your head, studying him, and your smile widens when he shifts under your gaze. “Nothing important.”

It’s a lie, of course. You’re thinking about him—about how he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, about how he tries so hard to act unaffected when you’re around.

And for the first time, you feel a little wicked. If Curly likes you, why not have a little fun with it?

Curly knew something was off the moment you walked into the cockpit.

It wasn’t just the way you greeted him, your voice light and playful as always. It was the way your smile lingered, like you were holding onto a secret you couldn’t wait to let out.

“You’re up early,” you said, dropping into your seat beside him.

“Could say the same for you,” Curly muttered, keeping his eyes on the console. He was grateful for the excuse to look busy, though the screen in front of him was just a diagnostic report he’d already read three times.

“You’re always so serious, Captain.” Your tone was teasing, but there was something else beneath it, something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He didn’t respond, didn’t trust himself to.

The silence stretched, and just when he thought you’d moved on, you leaned closer—close enough for him to catch the faint scent of whatever soap you used.

“Hey, Curly?”

His stomach flipped. “Yeah?”

You paused, drawing it out, like you were savoring his anticipation. Then, with a sly grin, you said, “You’re staring.”

“I’m not—” He froze, his heart skipping a beat. “What?”

“You are,” you insisted, your grin widening. “You’ve been staring at that same report for the last ten minutes. What’s so interesting about it?”

Curly’s mouth went dry. He scrambled for an answer, but his mind betrayed him, replaying every fleeting glance he’d stolen of you earlier that morning. How long had you noticed?

When he didn’t respond, you leaned back in your chair, smug satisfaction written all over your face. “Relax, Captain. I’m just messing with you.”

But you weren’t. Not entirely.

Because as you watched the tips of his ears turn pink and saw how his jaw tightened, you realized something. Something that made your pulse quicken and your lips curl into a wicked smile.

He likes me.

And now that you knew, you couldn’t help yourself.

Curly swore the ship’s cockpit had never felt this small before.

You were now hovering just over his shoulder, leaning in to inspect a blinking diagnostic alert on the screen. The proximity was maddening—he could feel the warmth radiating off you, the sleeve of your Pony Express jumpsuit brushing against his arm every time you moved.

“Hmm,” you mused, tilting your head. “Looks like a minor power fluctuation. Nothing to worry about, but we should log it for the next maintenance check.”

He nodded stiffly, trying to focus on your words instead of the fact that your hair was so close it tickled his cheek. “Right. I’ll, uh, take care of it.”

But when he reached for the keyboard, so did you. Your fingers grazed his, and you both froze.

“Sorry,” you said, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. A playful smile tugged at your lips, and he didn’t trust it for a second. “Didn’t mean to get in your way, Captain.”

“It’s fine,” he muttered, turning back to the screen. But his fingers trembled slightly as he typed, and he cursed himself for it.

“You know,” you said, leaning against the edge of the console, your voice deceptively casual. “You look good when you’re focused like that.”

He nearly choked. “What?”

“I said you look good when you’re focused.” You shrugged, like it was the most normal, casual thing in the world. “It’s kind of intimidating, actually. In a good way.”

His face burned, and he fought the urge to bury it in his hands. “I—uh—thanks, I guess...”

The smile you gave him was nothing short of devilish. “You’re welcome.”

You stayed there, watching him a little too closely, and he could feel his pulse thudding in his ears. Finally, he risked a glance at you, only to find you tilting your head with mock innocence.

“Everything okay, Captain?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, focusing hard on the screen. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Oh, no reason.” Your voice was light, teasing. “You just seem a little... tense.”

He stiffened, embarrassed and confused as to what you were doing but powerless to stop it.

“You know,” you continued, leaning a little closer again, “you really should loosen up. It’s not good for your health to be so serious all the time.”

“I’m not—” He cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”

“Hmm.” You studied him for a moment, and then, with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you added, “If you ever need help relaxing, Captain, just let me know.”

He froze, his brain short-circuiting at the double meaning behind your words.

Before he could stammer out a response, you straightened up, patting him lightly on the shoulder. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. Don’t work too hard, okay?”

And just like that, you were gone, leaving him alone in the cockpit, his heart racing and his mind a chaotic mess.

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. He was doomed. Absolutely doomed.

From the moment you saw Curly’s ears turn red, his fate was sealed. You’d never imagined the stoic, dependable captain could be reduced to such an adorable mess, and now that you’d seen it, there was no going back. It was just too cute—the way his bravado would falter, his words stumbling over themselves as he tried and failed to maintain composure.

Normally, Curly was all broad shoulders and easy charm, his commanding presence impossible to ignore. But you’d discovered a crack in that armor, a secret button that turned him from the ever-confident leader into a flustered, helpless schoolboy. And oh, what a delightful button it was to press.

You’d always found him attractive—how could you not? He was responsible, dependable, and unfairly handsome. But for the longest time, you assumed he’d only ever see you as his co-pilot, someone to rely on professionally but never personally. Yet now, the way his gaze lingered a moment too long, the subtle flush on his cheeks whenever you got a little too close, told you a very different story.

It gave you a strange, heady sense of power, and you had absolutely no intention of letting it go to waste.

A small, wicked thrill ran through you whenever you imagined the possibilities. What if you teased him just enough to make that carefully controlled exterior crumble? What if you pushed him to the edge, until he couldn’t hold it in any longer? Your mind wandered to a particularly wonderful thought: Curly, unable to take it anymore, bending you over the console with a heated, desperate confession.

You shivered, the fantasy almost too delicious to bear.

And so, your mission began—not to reject him, but to push him. To tease and torment, to watch his resolve unravel thread by thread. You weren’t cruel, not really. You knew he’d crack eventually, and you planned to reward him handsomely when he did. But until then?

Until then, you’d savor every stolen glance, every stammered reply, every moment he tries and fails to hold himself together.

After all, what was a little mischief between co-pilots?

a/n: let me know what y'all think! biggest thank yous to those who have written curly x reader fics thus far, y'all fueled me lmfao.

oh yeah.. smut.. eventually...

taglist is open! lmk if you want to be on the taglist for just curly/mouthwashing characters or if you want the news on alll my fics... also might be accepting requests hehe! i can't guarantee that i can do em, but i'll accept ideas!

thanks for reading! <3

btw. not beta read, please let me know if there are any typos or inconsistencies stay safe & hydrated as always!

(and go to sleep if you're reading this super late. don't be a curly. take care of yourself! (i say, writing this at midnight))

crossposted on ao3

directory/m.list next chapter ⇨

[ellecdc]

okay so I just wanted to start by saying I love you're moonwater stories so much.

Ive been thinking about this like paring ig for a bit and your recent moonwater story when r gets home from girls night just made me think of it more so if you're interested id love for you to do it.

Basically its like poly moonwater plus Barty ive been calling it moonwaterkiller in my head (idk if its already a ship or already has a name but I haven't been able to find anything) but basically I feel like r and Barty would be like a chaotic duo and reg and rem would just be like wtf a lot idk... I just think it has some potential and I just love your writing so fucking much.

(I also just love how you write Barty)

so if you're interested I think it would be cool

much love :)

I love the way your mind works babes. thanks for your request! (it's almost two am where I am so please forgive any awkward sentences or spelling mistakes). also, if I didn't completely lose everyone with my DeathStar fics - this may very well do it. && this was written with the help of our fabulous @unstablereader

poly!moonwater x chaotic fem!reader + Barty Crouch Junior

Regulus didn’t know whether to be concerned or slightly aroused at the slightly deranged way that Remus was stalking the halls in search of you and Barty. 

You and Regulus had both at one point or another been in a friends-with-benefits situation with Barty (albeit separately) during your time in school, before you and Regulus went and fell in love with a Gryffindor. 

Regulus still wasn’t quite over the humiliation; both of falling in love and falling in love with a Gryffindor.

Of course, you and Regulus both stayed friends with Barty; Regulus mostly because he couldn’t shake him (ignoring the fact that Regulus really was quite fond of his maniacal friend), and you because the two of you really were sort of two sides of the same hyperactive galleon. 

And though Remus (and sometimes Regulus) liked to pretend that yours and Barty’s friendship caused them grief, they couldn’t deny how much they valued Barty’s loyalty and devotion to his friends; specifically you. 

Regulus’ new favourite thing was easily Remus’ new found appreciation for Barty. 

Up until this point, Barty had been his notoriously flirty and salacious self when it came to the likes of Remus, who wasn’t yet accustomed to Barty’s unique…personality.

However, once Remus realised the history between his two partners and the other Slytherin boy, he quickly came to appreciate the kind of pull Barty could have on people.

So, Remus had started flirting back.

Barty hated it.

Regulus loved it.

You started keeping track of the number of times Remus reduced Barty to a blushing and stuttering mess in your notebook. 

Barty hated that too.

It was nearing curfew and Remus and Regulus hadn’t seen you all afternoon. 

Usually that was fine, considering you were a bit of a free spirit. What was concerning, however, was that they hadn’t seen Barty either.

Regulus watched as Remus checked the stupid map that his brother and their friends had created when his brows furrowed in confusion.

“What? Don’t tell me they’re in the middle of the Black Lake again?” Regulus asked quickly, moving to stand over Remus’ shoulder to peer at the map.

“Again?”

“Don’t ask.” Regulus muttered.

“But…doesn’t Barty not know how to swim?”

“I said don’t ask.”

Seeming to know better, Remus turned back and pointed towards the Ravenclaw common room on the map. “It says they’re up in Ravenclaw tower?”

“For fuck’s sake.” Regulus muttered, dragging a hand over his face.

“How’d two Slytherin’s manage to get into Ravenclaw tower?” Remus asked bemusedly, earning him an unimpressed glare from Regulus. 

“Remus, I love you, but that was perhaps the dumbest question you’ve ever asked me.”

Remus rolled his eyes as he closed the map and tucked it back into his trunk.

“Come on, we might be able to catch up to Pandora on her way up and have her help us in.” 

They had indeed caught up to Pandora, and Pandora had indeed helped them in, though it seemed to be for naught. 

“I thought your stupid map said they were here.” Regulus muttered as he surveyed the common room, unable to spot a single lick of green and silver.

“It’s not stupid and they are in here.” Remus muttered back, moving to stand in the dead centre of the room. 

“How do you know they’re here if you can’t see them?”

Remus glared at Regulus before looking around to ensure no one could hear them. “I can smell them.” He whispered.

Well Regulus just didn’t know what good these wolfy senses were if they were still out two Slytherin’s. 

“Shit.” Regulus heard whispered suddenly as a quill fell from the air and landed beside his foot.

Remus and Regulus both looked up to see you and Barty casually lounging in the chandelier above them.

“Are you sodding kidding me!?” Regulus shouted.

“I think our cover’s been blown.” You said simply to Barty as if you didn’t have two fuming and fretting boyfriends standing nearly forty feet give or take below you.

“Pity.” Barty responded as he peered down. “This was a nice refuge.”

“How’d you even get up there?” Remus cried, pacing like he was getting ready to catch you should you fall.

“Magic.” Barty taunted from above.

“Junior, so help me gods if that witch falls I-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Lupin. I resent the insinuation that I would ever let anything happen to our sweet angel baby.” Barty bit back immediately.

“Okay, okay. Fair enough.” Remus acquiesced as if he were negotiating a hostage situation. “Why don’t you both just come down here, nice and slow, okay?”

Both you and Barty leaned forward to look down at the two boys, causing the chandelier to swing precariously.

“Fucking hells! Stop moving!” Remus shrieked, causing the attention of the few Ravenclaws sitting in the common room to look over.

“Such a worrier.” Barty muttered as he stood and started manoeuvring himself to the edge of the chandelier - you following him over and causing the chandelier to tip to a nearly 90 degree angle. 

“I’m going to be sick, I’m actually going to throw up right here.” Regulus muttered mostly to himself whilst Remus tried to stand directly underneath you lest you need to be caught. 

To Remus and Regulus’ absolute horror, Barty launched himself away from the chandelier, grabbing at the billowy banners hanging from the ceiling causing the chandelier to swing away from him like a pendulum. 

“JUNIOR!” Remus shouted, causing Barty to momentarily look shamefaced as he looked below him. 

As the chandelier swung towards the opposite wall, you too launched yourself at one of the billowy banners hanging from the ceiling and began monkey climbing down them.

“Can you make sure she doesn’t fall, please.” Remus barked at Regulus as he made his way towards Barty.

Barty let out a high pitched screech and began hastily making his way down the wall. “Run Treasure! Save yourself!” He shouted dramatically.

You turned quickly at that and saw Regulus making his way to you.

You let out a surprised squeak and hurried down, and before Regulus realised what you were doing, you had used your wand to open one of the windows and were shimmying out.

“Oi! What the-” but before Regulus could even shove his torso out the window, you’d managed to shift into your animagus form - a mink, which Regulus felt was very fitting considering what a sodding cheeky minx you were being right now - and began scaling your way down the side of the building.

Regulus was interrupted by the sound of a squeal - Remus’ squeal - and turned to see Remus hanging halfway out of the window in much the same fashion that Regulus had been.

Unlike Regulus, however, Remus had been successful in his capture of Barty and had him hanging from the tallest tower at Hogwarts by one of his arms.

“Junior! Are you trying to sodding kill me!?” Remus barked angrily at him, trying to pull Barty up without any help from Barty himself.

Barty looked up at Remus with all the innocence he could muster (read: none) and winked. 

“Catch me if you can, Mr. Wolf.”

And Barty shrunk into his own animagus form - an osprey - and let out a cry before swooping down to pick up something that looked suspiciously like a mink from the eaves of one of the lower towers and took off towards the grounds. 

“Fucking son of a bitch.” Remus cursed as he tried catching his breath, still sitting half out of the Ravenclaw window. “Why do we put up with those two?”

Regulus shrugged with all the nonchalance he could muster. “‘Cause they’re cute?”

Remus sighed and hit his head against the windowsill. “They’re so sodding lucky that they are…”

“Come on.” Regulus said, offering Remus a hand and helping him out of the window. “Unfortunately, I know exactly where they went.”

Barty loved nothing more than the feeling of his feet sinking into the sediment of the Black Lake below his feet. He also loved the feeling of being near you, his Treasure. He also loved the idea of two handsome men frantically searching for you, and him by proxy.

All this to say, Barty was having a really nice night.

“Junior!”

Barty’s face morphed into a Cheshire cat grin as he turned towards the voice of the man and his boyfriend as they stormed towards the waters edge.

“Well hello, Lupin. How nice of you to join us; care for a dip?”

“Get out of the water.” Regulus drawled in a bored tone.

“Why would I do such a thing? The water’s lovely, I’m in wonderful company, and we’re going to feed the Giant Squid.” He argued.

“Barty.” Remus barked with all the severity he could manage. “You don’t know how to swim.”

Barty scoffed indignantly. “Yeah, well…neither can Reggie!”

“That’s why I’m standing on the shore you absolute bell-end.” Regulus countered quickly.

Remus turned his furious gaze into a bemused one as he took in Regulus. “Do you really not know how to swim either?”

“None of us can!” You shouted from your disturbingly deeper place within the lake as the gentle waves nearly lapped against your skirt.

“Oh, for the love of- you know what? This summer, everyone’s getting swimming lessons.” Remus proclaimed.

“Ou, does that mean I get to see you in your swim trunks, Lupin?” Barty called.

Remus, without missing a beat, started towards Barty, walking into the lake in his shoes and all. “You could see me right now, in less, for free, Junior. You only had to ask.”

Barty let out a screech and tried running towards you, albeit in slow motion on account of the water’s resistance. “Y/N! Treasure! Help! Make him stop!”

“No can do, bubs.” You called back in monotone, still throwing chunks of bread towards the middle of the Lake in hopes of eliciting the company of one Giant Squid. 

“Dove, you’re going to catch a cold; get out of the water.” Remus called to you, pants soaked up to his knees after giving up on chasing Barty in the water.

“We’re trying to make friends!” You whined.

“You cannot make friends with a squid, amour. He will eat you.” Regulus explained from the shore. 

“He wouldn’t eat his friend.” You scoffed. 

“Dove.” Remus barked again.

“I want to see the the big water kitty!” You whined again, turning towards the boys and offering the most pathetic pout you could muster.

Regulus scoffed from his place, still dry on the shore, Remus let out a pained sigh, and Barty all but skipped towards you. 

“A valiant death it will be!” He cheered before he felt the fabric of his jumper being summoned by an accio, dragging him unceremoniously through the water towards Remus.

“No! Ah! AH! STRANGER DANGER. STRANGER DANGER!” He shrieked as Remus threw him over his shoulder.

“Okay, well, now you’re just showing off, Lupin.” He muttered, crossing his arm petulantly as Remus held his free hand out to you.

“Dove, please? Come inside with me?”

You looked distressed at this and moved obediently towards Remus. “Are you mad at me?” You asked timidly.

Barty could actually feel Remus’ body soften beneath him as he allowed some of his tension to dissipate. “Of course not, dovey. I love you.”

You leaned over and pecked a kiss to the corner of his mouth before turning into your animagus mink and swimming to the shore, crawling up Regulus’ pant leg (who admonished you in faux contempt for ruining his trousers), and allowed him to carry you back to the castle. 

Barty was feeling petulant about the whole matter of being chased and chastised so decided then that he was going to force Remus to carry him all the way back to the castle in silence.

Unfortunately for Barty, he hated silence.

He was at least proud he’d made it to the dungeons before giving up on his vow of silence.

“You’re really not upset with her?” Barty asked quietly from his current prison. He could feel Remus’ head tilt in confusion, though his steps never faltered.

“Of course not?” He responded as a question.

“Hmmm.” Barty said, racking his brain for something to upset or fluster this man.

“Oh! What about me having slept with both your boyfriend and your girlfriend?”

“What about it?” Remus asked plainly. 

“Well…aren’t you upset about that?”

Remus scoffed and adjusted his grip on Barty, hand’s migrating none too innocently up the back of his thighs. “Junior. The only thing I’m upset about is that you haven’t slept with all three of us. I don’t like feeling left out, you know?”

Barty made a strangled sound as he struggled in Remus’ grip to no avail, causing you and Regulus to chuckle from a few strides ahead as you all stepped into the Slytherin common room.

“We told you he was smooth, Barty.” You chuckled.

“You should hear him in bed.” Regulus taunted, reaching over to pinch Barty’s arse, causing him to yelp and start cursing at him.

Remus relented and put Barty down, who immediately made for Regulus’ throat.

“Easy, Junior.” Remus chuckled, pulling him back by the shoulder. “You wanna keep Reg around, don’t you?”

Barty harrumphed and crossed his arms indignantly.

“We’d like to keep you around.” Remus continued.

Barty grumbled again and let out a quiet. “Fine.”

Remus beamed at him, which was very alarming if you asked Barty, as they stepped into his and Regulus’ shared dorm; Rosier and Avery were already asleep in their beds with their curtains drawn.

“Yeah? You’ll let us keep you?” Remus asked.

“I said fine, Lupin.” He bit back.

“Great. So we’re in a relationship then.” He explained simply, causing Barty to level him with a severe glare. “How dare you, Lupin. Never say such vile things to me again.” He spat before storming towards the boy’s bathroom.

Regulus groaned and grabbed his own toiletries before making his way to the washroom behind him. “I’ll go make sure he doesn’t try to drown himself in the shower again.”

Remus shook his head and changed into his pyjamas before climbing into Regulus’ bed and pulling you towards him.

“So, explain this to me, Dove. Why is Barty the way he is?”

You snorted a laugh and turned to face him. “You’re going to have to be way more specific, love.”

Remus chuckled and ran his hands up and down your back. “He likes Reg. He loves you. He seems sweet on me. We invite him to be ours and he accepts - but runs when we make it mean something?”

You smiled up at your boyfriend and booped his nose with a perfectly manicured finger - which Remus found very confusing considering you spend your spare time scaling the rafters of grand ceilings and enticing Giant Squids from their hiding places. “Barty doesn’t understand, Rem. He wouldn’t know love if it punched him right in the face.”

Remus could feel his brows furrow and he pulled you in tighter to his chest. “Dove…love doesn’t punch you in the face?”

Apparently that had been the wrong thing to say as you rolled your eyes in exasperation and threw your head back onto the pillow. “You see? That’s the kind of thing someone who grew up loved would know.”

It’s not that Remus ever really forgot to worry about you per se, but he sometimes really worried about you Purebloods. 

At some point in the night, you had apparently decided Remus and Regulus’ bed was too hot and moved to Barty’s. Remus would have been slightly more petulant about the matter if he hadn’t thought you looked absolutely precious with Barty resting his head on your chest.

He looked so innocent in his sleep.

Sleep clearly didn’t know him very well.

Remus was shocked when the four of you entered the Great Hall for breakfast and Barty actually followed you three to the Gryffindor table. Though Remus was trying to play it cool, he couldn’t help but feel a flutter of hope surge within him at what that might mean for the three four of you.

Remus was just about to bite into his toast when a sultry voice sounded from behind Barty.

“Hello, Bartemus.” Amelia Bones sing-songed as she trailed a finger up Barty’s arm.

His brows furrowed almost comically from above the rim of his coffee cup before he slowly lowered it and turned to consider the Hufflepuff.

“Bones. Can I help you?” He asked, punctuating the word help as he plucked her fingers from his being between his two fingers as if he’d found something really quite disgusting on his person.

“I was thinking, you could help me, perhaps tonight?”

Barty turned to look at her incredulously.

“Help with what, Amelia? I’m really quite busy.” He spat, gesturing wildly to his cup of coffee. 

“An orgasm or two? Gods, you’re pissy in the mornings.”

Barty scoffed, sounding completely scandalised as he clutched at non-existent pearls adorning his neck. “I am sitting here with my beloveds, Amelia. For shame. You see this lot? I’m theirs, capiche?” 

Amelia looked bemusedly at the group of you before shaking her head in confusion. “Whatever you say, Junior.”

She moseyed on away, and Barty turned back towards his cup of coffee. “The gall of some people, honestly.” He said in exasperation, downing the rest of his still hot coffee and standing unceremoniously.

“Well, I best be off. Things to fuck up, people to scare. Tah-tah.” He called, pressing a quick kiss to your hair as he left the Great Hall.

Suddenly, realisation dawned on Remus.

“Ah, I see. So no to a relationship, but he is ours.”

You and Regulus chorused a hum of acknowledgement. 

“That’s just how Barty operates. You’ll get used to it.” You explained, still not looking up from the Daily Prophet you had been reading all this time.

Remus didn’t mind getting used to that; not if it meant he managed to get everything he wanted.

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: some awkward moments but nothing crazy.

part 1 - Part two!!! - part 3 - part 4

—————-

You indeed did not see John price the next morning but what you did see was a handwritten note stuck to the fridge beneath a magnet.

“Good morning, as I mentioned my job is demanding. I’m not sure how long I'll be gone for but I can estimate at least a month. If you need me, my phone number is below along with my check for this month's rent and the next. - John price”

You reach for the envelope that is attached behind the note and pull it open and what the fuck. You knew he had to have money but in what world would someone pay this much rent for a house with a roommate? You immediately grab your own checkbook and write him for the amount that’s overpaid, making a mental note to make sure you give it to him.

————

Weeks pass slowly and life goes on as it did before. The only difference is you're no longer struggling to make ends meet. So to celebrate your success you order that 6 foot canvas you’d been wanting for ages and a new oil paint.

When you got the notification that it had arrived, thank god for two day shipping, you squealed and ran to grab it before the mailman even walked away. He offered to help you as he watched you give it a bear hug and waddle it through your door yelling out a meek ‘no Thankyou’. You dragged it down the hallway and into the sunroom resting it up against the wall. Ripping the clear plastic film off of new canvases comes in third place to the best things in life.

Sitting in the sun that evening you stroke deep blue oil paints that try their best to replicate ocean waters, and white specks that wish they could induce the same feelings stars do.

You’ve been at this same painting for 3 weeks, coming home and straight to it. Now that it’s finally done it sits sunbathing till it dries. You still visit it and admire its larger than life beauty.

John’s been gone for 1 month and 3 weeks now and in that time some problems have arisen, 1. The faucet in the kitchen leaks and below it the pipe also leaks and the only plumber that’s willing to drive out to your house and inspect it says he won’t be available for another week which means the water bill will sky rocketing till then. And 2. you have no idea where the huge painting will go.

You walk around wondering where to place it. You thought maybe the living room, or even in your room but after testing both those places it still didn’t look right. You can only think of one other place which is the hallway to John’s room. Of course that spot is perfect, maybe he wouldn’t notice since he only spent one night here. You grabbed the drill and got to work mounting it immediately. Once all was said and done you gave it a once over, smiled, snapped a picture of it to send to your sister and walked away.

———

John arrived back exactly at the two month mark early in the AM. He opened the house door as quietly as possible and removed his boots by the door to avoid the creaking wood of the floor and continued sluggishly hauling his bag to his room. Being the man he is, he notices everything, those watchful eyes of his never miss a detail so he does indeed notice and take a second to admire the newly found painting hung in front of his bedroom door before unlocking it to set his stuff down.

After a much needed and appreciated shower he reads the clock at 7AM thinking he can sleep for a little, that is of course until he hears a knock at the door. Making his way down the hall he peeps through the window and sees a handyman?

“Good morning sir, how can I help you?” He says opening the door.

“Good morning, your wife called for a leaking pipe, told her I’d come by sometime today.” He looks down the hall towards your room and confirms the fact that you're definitely still very well asleep.

“My wife? Oh yes my wife, that lady I could’ve sworn I told her to cancel this appointment we actually got it all sorted out.” He lies like it's second nature.

“I actually charge a late cancellation fee that must be paid upfront.” He inquires slightly annoyed.

“How much?” John replies feeling sorry for this man that drove out here and is now being sent away.

“100$ flat.” John shuts the door and quickly fetches his wallet from the pocket of his cargo pants and returns with two bills one for the inconvenience and sends the man on his way.

Sleep can wait.

—————

You wake up to the sound of clanking in the kitchen and as a woman that technically lives alone in the middle of the forest you're terrified.

Grabbing the bat beside your bed still fully dressed in the least threatening attire, you tiptoe to the source of the noise and breathe out the strongest sigh of relief ever known to man.

“Jesus Christ John you scared me, what’re you doing?” You loudly admit startling him in return.

“Fixing this pipe that you called an overpriced handyman for.” You stare at him subconsciously admiring the way he looks, slightly disheveled, face screwed in concentration and strong hands twisting the wrench in his hand and let’s not mention the rise of his shirt.

“You okay?” He says removing himself from under the sink leaning back on his knees to stare up at you.

“Yeah, yes I’m so sorry, um so where did the handy man go?” He stands with a grunt and leans his back against the counter.

“On his merry way.” He replies, turning around to turn the faucet on checking if it leaks, then off to see if it still drips and as he expects, it does neither.

“How much do I owe you for the late cancellation fee?” That man has handled your plumbing issues before and you’ve definitely canceled late more than once.

“Technically you didn’t cancel on him, I did so don’t worry.” He says picking his tools up off the ground placing them messily into the tool box.

“Well Thank You.” You say awkwardly.

“Of course.” He smiles making the dimples beneath his beard awfully noticeable.

“Oh and by the way your rent is only two thousand five hundred a month.” You say walking to the kitchen drawer beside him and pulling out a check that’s already filled out and handing it to him.

“Utilities included?” He asks, grabbing the check written out for three thousand and also taking in notice that same scent that clung to those sheets you made his bed with weeks ago as you sweep by.

“Yeah I don’t mind paying more cause I mean look around, this place has my style written all over it which makes it feel more like mine than yours.” He looks baffled at your reasoning.

“I actually like the decorations, not sure I’d change a thing about it.” You laugh at what has to be a lie.

“I doubt it.” You chuckle and slightly blush at his kindness.

“No I'm serious, I especially love that painting in the hallway, where’d you get it?” You seem surprised at the mention of it and even more flattered at the compliment.

“I actually painted it.” He gives you a surprised look.

“See you’re even hand painting the art, please I can afford much more than twenty five hundred.” You act like you're considering it for a moment.

“As much as I’d appreciate it, I'm already grateful for what you pay.” You say truthfully.

“Also, welcome home.” You quip before turning around walking back towards your room to get ready for the day

—————

John’s been home for nearly two weeks now and he’s slightly growing on you and you on him. You co-exist in harmony most times. That doesn’t mean the two of you still don’t clash from time to time.

“Good morning.” He says scrambling eggs in a pan as you walk into the kitchen reaching in the cabinet for a coffee mug.

“Morning to you too.” You say groggily, setting your feet flat on the ground and placing the cup on the counter, reaching for the pot to pour some coffee.

“If I can just- oh I’m so sorry.” He says accidentally bumping into you making the coffee spill on the counter.

“Oh no don’t worry about it, I can just clean it.” You say turning around quickly to go grab paper towels and end up accidentally running into his chest.

He grabs your shoulders to hold you in place and let your brain catch up with the speed of events.

“We will learn to both be in the kitchen together someday.” You affirm with a laugh that makes you feel alive.

“Hey the first week this happened almost everyday. If anything this is a huge improvement.” He jokingly abides.

“True.” You say as he turns around handing you the kitchen towel to clean it up. He watches you with amused eyes and a smile that still hasn’t left either of your faces and for a second something alights in John something that scares him so bad he doesn’t hear a thing you’re saying.

“John, I said did you sleep well?” You speak a bit louder, snapping him out of it.

“Yeah darling sorry I’m just going to take this to my office. I've got some work to cover.” He says hurriedly plating his food and scurrying off.

“Okay well I’ll be heading to work soon.” He doesn’t even let you finish before closing the door leaving you to stand there a little stumped.

“So I’ll assume he didn’t sleep well.” You say to yourself before pouring another cup and heading to your room to get changed.

——————

Comments and reposts are appreciated <3

@beebeechaos

@ttsbaby01

@arminarlertssword

@quakeroaksguy

@waves-against-a-cliff

@depressed-but-make-it-cute

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖 .

# with roronoa zoro.

after one harsh encounter with the marines, the merry presented malfunctioning in many areas — one of them being the water supply. baths then became shared and scarce. zoro thought he’d have no problem with it; he wasn’t the cook. of course, that was until he saw you naked.

⎰ & fem!reader. smut. solo!male masturbation. edging. oral (male receiving). water play, i guess? bathtub sex. voyeur!sanji at the end.

W.C: 4K.

when the cannonball neared the merry’s hull, none thought much of it. the cook had managed to change its trajectory with one of his irritating kicks, and the explosion was swallowed by the sea with utmost diligence. nami’s instructions led them far from the destroyed marine ships. chopper mended some minor gashes. usopp began to hammer some nails into the damaged deck. you were scolding luffy for his recklessness. robin returned to her book. and zoro himself sat somewhere secluded to take a nap.

nothing was amiss, as that had been but another day for the strawhats.

the peace that followed thereafter was odd, yet welcoming, until the first stars shone above their heads and nami screeched from her spot in the bathroom. half-covered with a towel, the navigator was wide-eyed as she dragged usopp to the showering area, begging him to fix whatever was wrong with the water’s flow.

as predicted, he had no idea what was to be done whatsoever. there was a motive behind the desperation to recruit a shipwright: merry had gathered severe damages through the journey, and it was more a patched wreck than a proper ship at that point. without one to care for it with the demanded professionalism, it would crumble within the month.

the additional harm from the earlier battle was but a droplet in an overflowing mug. the situation was frustrating, of course, yet not one of surprises. after punishing sanji with a punch to the head, nami accessed what was meant to be done next, creating a bathing schedule based on the remnant water. as the distance from the closest island was unknown, and considering that sanji would need a fair amount of water for the meals, baths were to be taken once per five days.

zoro and luffy themselves could not have cared less for that condition, as both were unused to bathing twice a week. chopper and usopp, too, had decent intervals of three days before cleaning themselves. which led to the cook and nami — who were both voicing their discontentment —, and you and robin, who somehow managed to hide it better.

when the long-awaited time to bathe — at least for some — at last arrived, a particular mistake left the crew at an impasse. sanji and usopp shared the bathroom earlier, both too eager, to remind the rest of the male members that they were supposed to join. which meant that the “garbage duo”, as nami voiced out, hadn’t showered. inviting chopper was one thing. extending such courtesy to the men in question was another one entirely.

“i don’t even like showering!” luffy had complained, having his ear gripped by one very enraged nami.

“there’s no way i’m allowing either of you to avoid what’s coming. the entire ship smells like carrion, and the pair of you are at least seventy percent responsible!” she rebuked, although not moving towards the bathroom in the slightest.

“the shitty cook was the one who kicked that damned cannonball!” zoro spat, intervening for the honor of his natural scent — or stench.

“HUH?! WANNA SAY THAT AGAIN, MARIMO?!”

foreheads pressed against one another, smoke swirling from the cook’s lit cigarette. zoro reached for his sword as the other man raised a leg. was it not for robin’s intervention — her next words enough to fill the cook with desperate envy —, the pair would have engaged in one of their countless and predictable fights.

“the bathtub is large enough to fit in six,” she pointed out, as the entire crew held its breath, awaiting for nami’s response.

“NO WAY IN HELL—” the cook began to scream all of the sudden.

“sanji, i’m thirsty,” you interrupted, becoming the object of his devotion. zoro scowled.

“i’ll fetch you a beverage right in this second, my seastar!”

he ran to the inside of the ship, leaving a sudden silence that allowed the involved crewmates to unravel what was at stake.

the navigator pondered the suggestion, sighing as her glance shifted from zoro to their captain, still a victim of her grip on his earlobe. “i’m not sure. a bath with men and women…”

“neither i nor luffy care to bathe,” zoro stated, placing one hand on his nape as he shut his eyes, preparing himself for a nap.

he felt nami’s fist meet the crown of his head. “you will be taking a bath today, walking pigsty!”

zoro placed his palm above the pained area. “WITCH!”

“it’s just luffy and zoro,” chopper pointed out, observing from where he stood, glued to your leg.

lucky guy.

“we don’t have the luxury of wasting water for three baths in a day,” you chimed in, patting the reindeer’s head as he beamed at you, grateful for the support.

nami sighed. “i suppose, if it’s fine for the rest of you.”

due to the overall agreement, the members who yet needed to bathe gathered in front of the door. luffy left no space for awkwardness whatsoever as he kicked it open, bouncing with his fists raised to the air. the unusual excitement was due to the perspective of engaging in a silly water fight — one robin had alluded to in order to convince him.

zoro had been the last in line, and before he could enter the fuming bathroom, sanji gripped the hem of his crumpled shirt, face in a tone of red as he pressed their foreheads together, his expression holding nothing but rage.

“if you dare to do a single weird movement towards our beautiful ladies—”

“i’m not you, perv cook,” he snarled, matching the man’s fervor.

“oi, you two! quit it,” nami shouted from the inside.

zoro grinned all of the sudden, stepping back from sanji’s vicious grip, not once daring to tear his glance from the cook, all too proud to have vexed him so much. he would enjoy the shared space, if only by knowing that sanji would be fuming somewhere in the ship.

he, at last, closed the door, absentmindedly removing his clothes. zoro could hear the splash as luffy sent water everywhere, immediately being scolded by nami, worried about the waste. chopper was humming happily as robin scratched the fur between his horns, and you—oh, fuck.

zoro had to dive in with haste, splashing even more water with his addition to the bathtub. nami shouted at him, yet his mind didn’t process a single word. because you had neither foam nor vapor covering your figure, offering zoro a clear sight of your breasts and legs and the shadow of your pussy.

he shut his eyes, tensing up. the reason behind the mutual decision of that shared bath was due to his and luffy’s lack of interest in trivial manners such as sex and gender divergence. zoro shouldn’t react to your presence that way; it was vile and disrespectful, and a behavior that resembled the cook’s too much for his likings.

you were attractive, of course. zoro had known that from the first instance his glance met yours. you were also strong. and a pleasant companion. and smart. and your nipples were hardening up due to the coldening water. and—damn it!

luffy somehow had the worst timing known by mankind, as his playful actions in the bathtub shoved you straight into zoro’s side. the bare skin of your arm brushed against his own and he nearly combusted. the swordsman had to press the back of his head against the bathtub’s border so that his eyes were trailed to the ceiling instead.

he should have never agreed to this. he should have known better. nami had pointed out weeks prior that reciting your favorite color and food; your sleeping schedule; the things you needed; the chores you hated the most; was something that pointed out to one very obvious four-word feeling. he should have listened to her. damn him and his meaningless pride.

the bath lasted no longer than twenty minutes — the water was precious after all —, yet zoro felt as though he had lost a decade of his lifespan from the second he entered that bathtub to the moment his crewmates started to take their leaves.

he felt you move from his side, and stupidly opened one eye, only to be graced with the full view of your naked body before you covered it with a towel.

again. eyes shut. clenched jaw. he was both in heaven and hell all at once.

“don’t forget to drain the water before you leave,” he heard nami instruct from somewhere.

despite the crew having left the tub, zoro remained glued to his position. oddly enough, his lingering wasn’t frowned upon — merely ignored. perhaps they figured he had fallen asleep.

zoro had never been more awake in his damned life.

once alone, the swordsman started to fist his cock with a vicious grip, teasing the leaking tip with a press of his thumb. he sunk his teeth on the back of his hand, muffling groans of pleasure. he gripped his erection, moving his hand up and down. the water made the movements of his calloused palm smoother; faster, even. yet, he remained just as hard, the lack of release bringing forward a jolt of pain.

glimpses of your figure danced around his closed lids. he thought of those hardened nipples and pictured himself latching his mouth to them, his tongue swirling and biting and sucking, claiming your flesh through a trail of bruises. zoro’s hips jolted at the idea, and he moaned due to the pondering of your legs intertwined with his own; your breasts jumping in sync with your body as you rode him, gripping his shoulders; bouncing on his cock.

he’d have a bruising grip on your ass, guiding your movements, matching them, even — plummeting into you in the exact moments where you sank on his shaft.

zoro’s pace quickened, chasing a release that refused to come. you arched your back in his mind, echoes of your pleasure gracing his ears, nails scratching on his back and eyes glistening with satisfied tears. zoro pictured his tongue in your face, drinking on those same tears with the desperation of a wanderer in the desert.

his cock twitched. you’d cry and beg for more, voicing out his name with a tone of undeniable desire. zoro. zoro. zoro.

“zoro, have i left something—” the handle turned, and he froze.

hand still violently latched to his erection, zoro turned his head towards your surprised figure by the doorway, his throat going dry. you were dressed, clutching to your towel, and as much as he wished to apologize — to say anything — his voice was lost as his treacherous eyes drowned in your figure, unable to ignore the flashes of what laid under the fabric of your clothes.

“‘m sorry, thought you wanted me for something,” you mumbled closing the door behind you.

“huh?” he inquired, dumbfounded.

“you were chanting my name, so i thought—”, you stopped yourself mid-phrase, closing your eyes as if that would grant you courage. “do you? i mean, want me for something?”

could he? zoro swallowed, unsure despite the ache of his cock. he was not that great of a man — hell, there were times he was rather the devil incarnate —, yet there you stood, still dripping from the previous bath, an expectation-filled expression, yearning for him; wishing for a positive answer.

the thought of having you was such a blasphemy that his lust increased. zoro was an undeserving shell of a man who had been blessed with a treasure. one awfully desirable treasure of flesh and sweat and sounds he oh so yearned to hear.

drool connected his hand to his lips as he answered, voice rasping against his throat. “c’mere.”

no other instruction was needed. you caught on his urges with a swift glance, removing your clothes as you approached his spot at the tub. neither hesitation nor embarrassment were suitable between the pair of you. ten minutes prior, you were bare in front of his starved eyes and sharing a bath with four others. when your feet submerged, then, your legs, and at last, your torso, zoro’s arms encircled your waist, causing you to straddle him as you’d done in his mind.

reality made for far much pleasant sight.

yet he had no time to observe it properly, as you started to pepper kisses down his chest, inching closer to his awaiting cock. zoro expected you to replace his hands with yours, and failed to hold a surprised groan when he saw you lower your face underwater and guide your lips to his tip.

that was madness. how were you to breathe down there? but you had stolen the worry from his mind once you dragged your tongue through the entirety of his erection, before swallowing him completely. he gripped his hair and clawed at his own skin, head falling back and a grunt leaving his lips at the sensation. zoro could neither move nor touch you, otherwise, he’d surely end up fucking your throat — a dangerous thing, considering how scarce the air in your lungs was.

so, for once, he spared you an ounce of control.

your hand squeezed his balls, a thumb teasing the sensible inch of flesh between them. your tongue swirled around his tip, while the other hand spared some attention to the neglected extension of his shaft. with an accidental buckle of his hips, zoro shoved his dick inside, and the gag you let out brought bubbles of air to the surface.

zoro couldn’t quite see you, which was a terrible shame. yet, he could feel your lips doing its magic. hollow cheeks and careful teeth. a swift palm gripping his shaft and moving it up and down. a warm tongue enveloping the rest of him. he grunted out of the pleasure and desperation to touch you, marveled to witness the rise of your face above water, gasping for air; hand still on his cock.

he could not have you returning there, as much as his primal instinct shouted otherwise. zoro needed to have you in his arms, despising the consequences that forced him to be meek and composed, measured movements that didn’t mirror the reciprocal need.

“have i done something you disliked?” you inquired, puzzled at the interruption, hesitating to touch him further.

the swordsman dragged your figure back to his lap, scoffing as if you had offended him. “there’s nothing you could do to me that i wouldn’t like. we clear? don’t fucking think that again.”

zoro wasn’t sure where to first guide his hands. he was a man capable of handling three swords at once, yet the indecisiveness clawed at him. with a grin, observing your awaiting face, he decided to wield you as he would his steel.

zoro’s mouth clashed against yours, pushing his tongue inside and swallowing the gasp of surprise born from his touch. it was the sea meeting the rocks at the shore; his teeth colliding with your own as his lips claimed you with bruising force.

his first hand groped your breast, a finger pinching at the hardened nipple. zoro rolled a thumb over it, pleased with the elicited reaction. his other hand busied itself with a fistful of your ass, nails digging into the flesh as he parted it open.

your back arched, inching your chest closer. zoro growled, biting on your lower lip before latching his sinful mouth to your neck and collarbone, sucking on the skin and soothing the bruises with a warm tongue.

you started to move your hips, chasing friction, gripping his shoulders as if he was the solemn thing tethering you to that realm. zoro observed your face, contorted due to the pleasure, and was left wide-eyed. zoro cursed deities he had no faith in, for he wasn’t born with the talent to draw or write or sing, therefore unable to immortalize that singular expression; to praise your existence as you deserved it to. the swordsman wondered if you’d appreciate him if he wrote your name with the blood of those who dared to cause you harm. violence was the language he spoke. it also happened to be one you understood.

zoro felt the vibrations of the water sent to his muscles through the small jets of the tub, noticed the continuous teasing waves. he wondered, was he capable of fucking you with your cunt positioned close to it?

he swallowed. “you trust me?”

“with my life,” you answered, whimpering as your cunt slid effortlessly on his thigh.

zoro gripped your hips, turning your body without struggle. he trailed kisses down your back as you gripped the edge of the tub, with your cunt strategically placed near one of the jets. zoro pressed his chest against your back, two of his digits sliding into your awaiting folds. he moved them up and down — searching —, until he found the bundle of nerves. zoro’s lips brushed above your earlobe, blossoming goosebumps brought from his hot breath.

“how?” he inquired roughly. how do you like it?

your voice failed as you answered, the instructions broken due to a choir of moans caused by the stimulation from both his fingers and the water jet. zoro pressed himself closer, panting as he bucked his hips, seeing stars from the smallest contact.

“wish i could take my time,” zoro rasped, observing the muscles of your back. “wanted you to squirm under me a little longer.”

you moaned as he fastened the pace of one finger, while sliding the reminiscent digit to your entrance, accessing the lubrification. zoro fingered your cunt with awe, observing as the crystalline water was tainted white.

“m-more,” you begged, cranning your head to try and catch a glimpse of him. “you. need you.”

zoro grinned, licking on the lonesome droplets of water on your back. “you have me.”

“don’t make me say it.”

he stopped the movement of his fingers, retrieving the one who was once inside of you. you whimpered at the absence, to curse him thereafter.

“i need your cock,” you snarled, and zoro shuddered with anticipation, aware that he’d enjoy demolishing such attitude.

he positioned himself at your entrance, careful as not to remove your figure from the water jet. zoro’s least intention was to hurt you during your first time, and the stimulus from the vibrations guaranteed that he wouldn’t.

the swordsman was a man of composure. yet, as your walls enveloped his cock, he had to grip the edges of the tub in order not to move before your allowance. his teeth dug on the flesh of your shoulder, and you whimpered, eyes shut closed. he had never seen a prettier sight.

your chest rose and fell, nipples pressed to the tub’s surface. he buried his nose in your nape, hating the industrial scent from your perfume, wishing for nothing but to ruin you; to defy the structure of nature and fuck you enough to have you covered in sweat despite the cold water that surrounded you both.

“move,” you said through gritted teeth, although reconsidering right after. “please.”

“aren’t you a quick learner?” zoro mocked, a smug smile etched on his features.

he observed the gears turning your head. the answer at the tip of your tongue. and then he stole your capacity to speak.

whatever sentence you meant to utter melted and gave way to a luscious moan. zoro thrusted into you with diligence and precision, ignoring the ache of his knees as he removed his shaft until the tip, only to hammer it yet again, drunk in the way your pussy hugged his cock — starving, desperate, demanding to be filled. it was not the sweet beckoning of a lover, but the challenge of a rival. he marveled at the sound of your moans; at the white essence that pooled between the pair of you.

again and again, his cock rammed into you. zoro’s hands gripped your waist, his teeth on your shoulders, muffling the broken cacophony of his voice. you tried to adjust your hips in order to match his pace, yet your movements were sloppy.

the sound of his balls meeting your ass was overtaken by the splash of water, crystalline and fluid upon its entrance, and an ivory cream in its egress.

zoro drew circles in your clit, regardless of the odd angle to his wrist, movements growing ever so sloppy as you clenched on his cock, guiding him to the gates of heaven. the water jet, the teasing of your clit, his never-ending pace, and his shaft sliding through your cervix ruthlessly were an overstimulation of itself. your eyes were filled with tears, and you had to cover your mouth in order to muffle a shout of pleasure.

he clicked his tongue in disapproval, slapping your hand. zoro pushed two fingers inside of your lips and tore them open, your jaw growing slack; exhausted vocal cords.

“don’t you dare cover those sounds,” he demanded, shoving his cock deeper. “i want to hear you sing for me.”

you babbled the syllables of his name — or so he figured — crying into the edge of the tub. your choir of disharmony sent a jolt of adrenaline through his body, similar to those gained during battling, and zoro forced your ass to meet the pace of his cock, slapping and splashing added to the orchestra of that moment.

zoro was close. he felt the cum threatening to spill as though a half-opened faucet, tears of his own pooling in his eyes as he tried to hold it back, if only for the sake of watching you crumble first.

a muffled sound — not yours, and definitely not his — managed to break through his concentration. zoro halted all of the sudden, to which you whimpered and cursed. his ears peaked up, a grin of pure mischief dominating his features once he realized who had produced such a thing.

“shitty cook’s watchin’ us,” he groaned close to your earlobe, eyeing the subtle crevice of the door.

you sent a dazed glance towards the cook’s not-so-hidden position, and zoro heard him whine at the sight.

“lemme give him a proper show. you can take it, right?” yet it was not a question per se, and rather an affirmation.

zoro gave his knees a break, sitting on the tub. he dragged you with him, somehow managing to keep his dick inside. you fell on his lap, back against his chest; head pending to the sides above his shoulder. zoro dragged his canines along your pulsing point, and you whimpered. somewhere, zoro heard the cook whine. the swordsman gripped your hips and started to guide your bounces, matching the imposed rhythm with his hips. he eyed the door with a grin, fingers lazily teasing your folds as you rode him, moaning with your eyes closed.

zoro licked the salty tears dripping down your cheeks, observing you squirm with a sense of pride.

“‘m c-close,” you whined, and he increased his pace, grunting as your walls tightened around his cock.

“touch yourself,” he voiced, unable to do so as one of his hands guided your hip and the other circled your clit.

you complied, groping your breasts and pinching your nipples, arching your back. the movement had shifted your position on his cock, allowing him to slam deeper into you.

a streak of blonde hair broke through the door. zoro shifted, offering an entire view of your figure to the cook. his grip tightened, glance menacing. zoro heard the fisting of the other man’s cock, grinning to himself. the cook had to pleasure himself with the thought of you; forced to witness your tits bouncing and face contorted in pleasure, yet never given the chance to touch you. to taste you.

zoro came without warning. his seed dripped from your hole and he fastened his fingers, allowing you to reach your own ecstasy. you fell limp on him, chest moving heavily in an attempt to gather your thoughts. still with his softening cock inside, zoro moved afar from the shared cum that floated on the water, marveling at the trail of his seed that accompanied your cunt.

with some possession, he gripped the side of your neck, mumbling nonsense against your skin. his lips sucked softly on the tender spots, and though you hummed in dazed delight, zoro noticed the crease of your forehead.

“trying to mark me, zoro?”

he grinned, eyes glued to the door. “already did. mine to touch, aren’t you?”

you hummed in agreement, but zoro wasn’t taking any of that. still with your walls around his dick, he raised his hips on purpose. you yelped, gripping his arm.

“aren’t you?”

“yes, i am yours to touch, fuck—”

the swordsman heard the cook’s steps. he could have the sight of your naked figure engraved into his restless mind. zoro didn’t care; not when he had the real thing.

— 🐈‍⬛ : hi, welcome to chili’s. don’t ask me the color of anything. i ෆ men who whimper.

[ladyloveandjustice]

So I have no stake in ships in Avatar the Last Airbender, I do not have any real ships for the show. But when I was looking in Katara's tag for art and stuff, I saw this reoccuring claim that Katara always supported Aang with his problems and feelings, but that Aang never supported her back with hers.

And I don't care about the ships, but I do really like the friendships in Avatar, and that bothers me. It's a slight on Aang, but also on Katara (implying she wouldn't stand up for herself and break it off if a friend was all take and no give, which doesn't fit her personality at all.)

Aang does support Katara whenever he gets the chance, which is unfortunately few and far between because Katara seems to have a hard time leaning on the people she cares about and talking in depth about her own trauma and feelings about it, though she will do so when she literally doesn't care what the person thinks about her (and both times she opened up to Zuko about her Mom initially were her lashing out at him and not caring what he thought about her in return).

This would be something that would need to be addressed for a romantic relationship between them to truly work, and I imagine it would be part of the journey of finding a way to stay together, but it's very much not Aang's fault. And as I said, when he gets a chance to support her she does. Since I just recently rewatched most of the series, have a list of those times!

-His first time being supportive of her is literally a half hour after they first meet. As soon as she tells him about wanting more waterbending experience, he enthusiastically offers to fly all the way to the north pole so they can find her a master. And this very clearly means a lot to her.

-I don't think Aang knew how supportive of her he was being here, but there's the "I haven't done this since I was a kid" "You still are a kid!' exchange. As much as people accuse Aang of seeing Katara as his Mom (he's literally the one character who doesn't express that he does in The Runaway btw and I think that's for a reason) their first interaction establishes that he sees her as a kid, just like him, and think she should have fun like a kid does. This must have been huge for Katara, who'd been forced to take on adult responsibilities at a young age, who resented having to hold the family together, who thought her childhood was over. Aang helped her have fun and be the kid she is, and he'll continue to do so.

-When she lost her mother's necklace (And Zuko subsequently stole it) he was very concerned for her feelings and seemed to immediately understand the weight of that loss, due to his own experiences with loss. Not only did he make her a new necklace to wear as a way to comfort her, as soon as he saw Zuko had it he said "you're giving that back to me" and risked being hit by Zuko in his attempts to grab it. Then he gave it back to her and she was ecstatic!

-He was so supportive of her during the waterbending scroll episode it's actually ridiculous, despite how she lashed out at him. It's unclear if he actually understood she was upset or if this was just his unwavering respect for her coming out, but when she was upset that he learned the first move faster than her he said "well you didn't have such a great teacher!" and it clearly makes her feel better for a bit. He immediately forgives her for lashing out at him, doesn't judge her at all for stealing the waterbending scroll, or for accidentally dragging them into trouble. He, in fact, goes out of the way to reassure her, looking happy at the chance to work together and reminding her they need two waterbenders. And he appreciates her joke at the end (he's just straight up being simp (affectionate) there, and I get it).

-When Pakku won't teach her he immediately denounces him as wrong and unfair and is willing to sacrifice his own education (which he needs to save the world) because he won't stand for it. He remains upset about it even after Katara persuades him, tries to secretly show her what Pakku taught him, and cheers her on when she fights him.

-When she's crying over Jet's death, he's the first one to notice and reach out to her, putting his hand gently on her shoulder and drawing her into a hug (that becomes a group hug). She smiles and clearly feels comforted. They probably talked about it offscreen too (but this cannot be shown as they would need to directly acknowledge his death to do so)

-He's pretty much always praising her as a teacher, and when she grumbles about him not calling her Sifu, he goes out of his way to call her that.

-He notices that she's mad at her Dad and asks her about it, but she deflects

-He looks really sad when he has to remind her she has to take off her mother's necklace for their Fire Nation disguises, again it's something he very much seems to empathize with her about, he understands the weight of what it means to her.

-He not only doesn't judge her for lying during the Painted Lady saga, but praises her and enthusiastically helps her commit ecoterrorism.

-Both he and Sokka move to comfort her when she's crying after the bloodbending fiasco. Most of the comforting of her happens offscreen, which I do think is a shame, and a contrast to how Aang is handled- but it's more of a "he's the main character" thing, since the same happens for Sokka as well (I'm sure Katara and Aang talked to him about Yue's death and at least tried to comfort him, but we don't get to see that).

-He was trying to support her during the Southern Raiders ep, whether you believe he did it well or not, both according to his beliefs and cultural values and by trying to emulate the ways she's talked HIM down from revenge and hatred in the past. He specifically brings up those two incidents- losing his people and losing Appa- where she stepped in to keep him from losing himself to rage. As this post notes, he also specifically echoes her phrasing from when she was urging him not to lose himself to the Avatar state (she says "watching you be in that much rage and pain is really scary" and he echoes "you're feeling unbelievable pain and rage" while talking to her in this ep.)

It's not just the air nomads he's trying to emulate here, but her. Just like Katara doesn't want to see him consumed by hatred and pain, he wants the same for her. His concern is not for her mother's killer, but for her, he fears this will hurt her, just like her concern was always for him and how this would hurt him in those times he was raging.

He wants to do for her what she did for him. But, Katara is not him. She is not someone who will be talked down by someone else when she is grieving, angry, and looking for revenge. Nobody can stop her when she sets her mind to it. She needs to wrestle with whether to kill him and she needs to come to her own conclusions, because she's the only one that can stop her. And Aang realizes that. He says it's a journey she'll have to take on her own, that she needs to face him doesn't stand in her way.

(I wonder if it kind of hurt, deep down, that he couldn't reach her the way she always reached him. I wonder if he felt upset that he couldn't find the right words like she did for him. But I don't think there were any right words. She needed him to step back. It was her choice to make. So he did.)

And in the end, he was correct that she didn't want to do it. She did choose that based on her own feelings and values.

His assumption Katara not killing the guy = forgiveness is definitely him just kind of applying his assumptions and values, but when she says she doesn't forgive him, he doesn't like, judge her or anything that we can see.

So yeah, quite a few examples! It can feel lopsided because more attention is paid to Aang and Katara's personality affects things.

Katara is both open about her emotions and not. She's someone who will look after other's feelings but not really discuss her own pain with people she cares about, until it all builds up and bursts out.

And it's not surprising she's most concerned about Aang, if my friend had recently (from his perspective) survived a genocide where he lost everyone he loved and was now tasked with saving the world at twelve years old, I'd be pretty worried about him and want to support him too! Aang goes through a lot by virtue of being the protagonist, he has the most pressure on him, he's routinely in the most danger, he literally dies for a few minutes. It's not surprising Katara has more opportunities to comfort him, but he unfailingly supports her in any of her problems of goals (when they're not murder) when he can.

I do think there's some missed opportunities to explore Katara and develop their relationship, but it doesn't make Aang a bad, unsupportive friend, or Katara his Mom and not his peer.

[bunny-jpeg]

hi love, may i have some sourdough bread and coffee with max (in a sort of twisted, claiming my rival as mine way). thank you so much and more power to your bakery 💚

bakery menu

feel free to submit your own order! i am happily working away at the bakery! clockin' in those hours!! this prompt made me shove all other projects to the side. you literally picked at two of my faves, haha. like YEAH!! so i hope you love this, this was a pleasure to write (now back to my other projects)!

sourdough bread ("i'm going to breed you.") + coffee (rivals au) served by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, rivals au, breeding kink, possessive behaviour, pregnancy, driver!reader, filth (!!!), smoking, baby trapping, missionary

you sighed and looked over your shoulder, the cigarette still between your fingers, "are you going to keep staring, verstappen or are you going to come over here?"

he uncrossed his arms and went over. he plucked the cigarette out from your fingers and took a drag, "girls like you shouldn't smoke. not very feminine."

you took the cigarette back and looked at him, "oh maxie, if you wanted a girly girl, you watched the ship sail years ago. i used to punch your bullies."

he sighed. you were right. childhood friends to rivals on the track with a dash of friends with benefits or whatever label of the month you chose to define your relationship.

max knew one thing. he wanted to mark you inside and out. he wanted to make sure that you were his. to call what he felt for you love was to call an inferno a spark. as he watched you smoke, he thought about putting his lips on your neck. he wanted to dig his blunt teeth into your throat and watch it bloom purple.

he also wanted to fuck you over the balcony, letting whoever down below know exactly where you belonged. under him. he hated you ferrari as much as he hated you in alpine only two years earlier. he always thought you belonged with red bull, not as a driver, but as a wag.

lately something else had been curling inside of him like a snake about to strike. the rattle of its tail warning his brain that this was what got him going. you. pregnant. with his kid.

end your name's legacy on the track and replace it with his. make sure that your name doesn't end up on the track for a good while, while verstappen survives, if not thrives for a long time to come. if you can't beat a rival on the track, get 'em pregnant!

you stamped out your cigarette of the cement ledge of the balcony before you dropped the butt to the ground. you looked at max, "you're staring at me like i'm a four course meal. can't find someone to get your dick went tonight?"

he had been lying for some time about getting sex elsewhere. it was impossible to sleep with other women when he was thinking about you. he even tried to find women that looked like you but it never cut it.

he snaked an arm around you middle and press his nose into your hairline, "it's been a while since we.. got together. don't you think?"

you looked at him and smiled a little, "are you asking me for sex, mister verstappen?" you chuckled, "i think that breaks several rules." you made a face.

he looked around briefly before he pulled you in for a firm kiss. when he pulled away and said, "if no one knows, is it really rule breaking?" he knew you could never say no to him, so after qualifier when he found a key card to your hotel room in his driver's room, he knew that had scored.

the sex between you two was passionate. it was never a dull moment. when he let himself into your hotel room like he owned the place, you were naked drying off after a shower.

"you dog." you said as you dropped the towel and headed towards the bedroom portion of the hotel room. max followed behind like a happy little mutt with his cock straining in his jeans.

he began to undress when you got up onto the bed. he watched you sitting at the edge while he took his belt off and jeans. you admired his toned figure. he wasn't ugly.

you had seen every phase of max, you two have known each other for far too long. that added to the rush of it all. it would make sense to anyone on the outside that you two would end up together and have like five kids. but instead the games you played were wicked.

once he was naked, he got on top of you. his impressively sized cock rubbed against your sweet pussy. he could feel the wetness against his achy tip.

"i'm going to breed you." he said softly, his blue eyes bore into yours as he made sure to tighten your legs around him.

you chuckled, "yeah right, verstappen. i think your swimmers died like a million years ago from all the racing." you held onto the pillow under your head. your legs wrapped around him tightly.

he laughed, "fine, fine. i'm joking. i think you're right." he was playing it off cool as if he didn't feel like he was going to jump out his bones at the prospect of getting you stuffed fat with his cum.

you laughed, "you and your dirty talk, verstappen. you always talk about wifing me up and me having your children. like i'm going to retire from racing." you tensed up for a moment when he eventually sank his cock into your soaked pussy.

he fit like a glove, that was how he knew. it was like he molded your pussy for him. no other man could have you and he was going to make sure of that. when he was done with you, you'd be at least five percent dutch.

that'll give you enough to give your hefty sons nice, strong names. legacy names for the track. he rutted against you, heavy, strong strokes. his cock nudged inside of you as he planted his hands on either side of you.

"you look good like this." he said as he pressed himself against you. your soft, pretty tits pressed against his chest as he moved against you.

you were only going to get more beautiful with time. the thought excited him. knowing that he had marked you in such an intimate way, a way that no other driver could. you were his, it was as simple as that!

the idea of you having another rival (or partner) made his skin crawl. he knew you better than you knew yourself. he could predict your movements easily both on and off the track. as he bullied his cock into your sweet pussy, he knew that he was the right fit for you.

he pressed his nose into your neck and continued to thrust into you. your pussy was soft and wet for him. a warmth went through his body as he rocked against you.

"i want to breed you. make you my wife. keep you home with our family. you don't need to be on the track anymore. you've scored more points than any other woman. so, it's time to settle down. we'd make some strong racers." he panted and felt the sweat down his back as he thrust into you.

you held the back of his head and whispered in his ear, "you're a funny guy, verstappen. if you get me pregnant, that kid is getting my last name. and they'll be racing under my country's flag."

he smirked to himself against your neck. you say that now, but a lot can change with time. he dug his fists into the covers and picked up the pace. he loved being so close to you.

your heart close to his. it was almost intimate if it wasn't for the hateful filth that was coming out of your mouths.

"i want you always. i want to ruin you for other men. and i'll make sure that you're not sleeping with other guys." he knew a sure fire way to prevent that, hard to fuck other men when you're full of his child.

"max. you're fucking insane." you panted as you looked at him once more. he knew that you were feeling the height of pleasure, and that honestly made him harder.

that he made you this way.

"i'm fuckin' close."

"good, good. my good wife." he purred, which only made you more turned on. god, what a possessive little freak with the breeding kink!

you clutched onto him tightly and almost bit down on his neck as you came. it washed over you and you tensed up for a moment before you relaxed. then you continued to cling onto him like a lifeline.

he liked the feeling of that and soothed you with gentle words and kissed as he felt close to his own climax.

"max... c'mon. fuck." you moaned as you dug your pretty nails into his back.

he soon after cursed loudly as he slammed his cock into you, making sure you took every last inch. he wanted to make sure that he finished far enough into you that his cum didn't have anywhere else to go but into your womb.

that was his objective. he kissed you once more as he gave a few more thrusts. you moaned into the kiss and laid there under him, breathless.

he slowed down his thrusts to catch his breath. you were still clutching the covers under you. you looked amazing under him, he was right. it was where you belonged.

he placed both hands on your stomach and started to thrust once again. one orgasm wasn't going to cut it for him. if he was going to make you a verstappen, it meant making sure his dna stuck to your sweet pussy.

you'd eventually race on sunday with cum still staining your panties and a pray that no one would notice.

-

it was july now and the heat was getting unbearable. it didn't help that sitting on your hips was a six month pregnant belly. you had spent since may in the nice little sundresses that max had picked out for you.

he was painfully doting, making sure the mother of his child had anything she needed. after all, you retirement was sudden and early. such a strong driving career cut short.

"you look so good." he'd often say and his large hands spanned your swollen middle in the hopes to feel his son shifting around. you knew the asshole got off to this.

you were trying to teach your unborn child as much of your mother tongue as possible, while he'd curl up with our middle at night and speak dutch. when you tried to stop him, he simply pressed into you further.

even parenthood felt like a small rivalry.

max believed that he won the rivalry, he was about to championship that year after blood tests came back that you were pregnant. you could've killed him when you stomped out of the doctor's office and almost strangled him.

you'd hate to admit it, but there was a domesticity that you sort of liked. while you were still trying to find things to do post-driving, it was nice to be in one place at one time. what had felt like your entire life had been on planes going between tracks. the press didn't bother you as much once the news cycle of your pregnancy died down and you could just be you.

while you wanted to kill max still, even as he was snuggled up beside you on the couch, his arm draped over your bump, you honestly couldn't ask for a better baby daddy. you wouldn't let max have his victory in your little rivalry, even as the gold ring you wore gleamed in the afternoon light, you'd never admit to your husband that he had bested you. because the way you looked at it, since you shared the same last name, it was your trophy too. <3

[mostlymihawk]

Intimidation

Mihawk, Shanks, and Koby x GN reader

Prompt: How they react when they find out you're being threatened/held hostage.

CW: Threats, blood, abuse mentions

Mihawk:

You try to hide it from him at first.

Someone had come into Mihawk's castle, slit your throat, and told you to pass on the message that "my next cut won't be so shallow" if Mihawk didn't stop hunting him.

You're determined not to be Mihawk's weakness, so you force yourself to get it together.

You pull yourself off the floor, change the bloody carpet, stop the bleeding, and tell Mihawk you've suddenly developed a fascination with scarves.

It works for about an hour, if that.

Maybe it was your fidgeting, the way you jumped at shadows, your darting eyes, shaking hands...you had so many tells.

Finally he takes you by the hand, leads you to bedroom, sits you on the bed...and pins you down with his eyes as he gently tugs the scarf away and reveals the wound.

You break down immediately and tell him everything, including why you wanted to hide it.

He is utterly silent as the words flow out of you like a burst dam, until you have nothing left and you're sobbing brokenly in his arms from the pain.

Mihawk needs a minute to digest everything you've told him.

"...You are not my weakness, you are my greatest strength. You are the lifeblood that pulses in my veins, the fabric of my very soul, the deity before whose altar I kneel in reverence every hour of every day."

Being a warlord of the sea, he is often seen as a dog at the marines' beck and call, but the reverse is also true.

His delicate fingers bandage your would with near-surgical precision, and then Mihawk calls in a favour.

A few scant days later, the freshly-replaced carpet is bloodied anew with the blood of the correct victim.

Mihawk loathes blood on the carpets, but it does make a nice tapestry to serve as a warning to any others fool enough to attempt to harm his betrothed.

Shanks:

Mid-brawl, you're grabbed by the opposing captain.

It's all very cliché, but he won't let you go no matter how hard you struggle.

"Alright, stop. I surrender. My life for theirs."

The enemy captain is grinning ear to ear as you're roughly shoved aside and caught by Shanks' first mate, Benn Beckmann.

He shushes you and hides your face in his chest to muffle your pleas as Shanks steps right up to the barrel of the gun that had just been levelled at your temple.

The captain asks if Shanks has any final words.

"...I lied."

The half second's delay as they struggle for control of the gun is enough for Yasopp to end it.

You're inconsolable for the rest of the day, but Shanks is too glad you're alive to be terribly upset about the insults hurled his way or the bruises he'll have on his chest later.

Koby

He knows something is wrong right away.

He's the nervous wreck in this relationship, so when you've lost all your spark he asks what's wrong, and gets suspicious when you're scared to tell him.

Drags you straight to Garp's desk, no matter how much you beg him not to or how much you insist they'd kill him if you got the marines involved.

"Listen...I've been where you are. For two years I was held hostage on a pirate ship. If you let yourself be scared into silence...it'll never get better. We have to fight this, it's the only way."

That said, he has absolutely no idea how to fight an entire pirate crew.

Thus, Garp.

Garp reminds you both that, as Koby's significant other, a threat against you a threat against the marines, the world government, and, by extension, a threat against humanity.

The pirates extorting you are all swiftly captured, imprisoned, or brought to justice.

What did they really expect to do against the might of the marines, after all?

"You see? They wanted you not to get the marines involved because they knew they'd never stand a chance if you did."