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sturniqlo · 1 month ago

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KINKTOBER WEEK 4 | ROOM 373- C.S

summary: when not enough rooms were booked ends up leaves y/n and chris sharing a room on their vacation

cw: cursing, brothers best friend trope, SMUT; wet dream, making out, handjob, cum eating

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"this is nice as hell." matt says when they arrived at the hotel they'd be staying at. it was summer now, and both the triplets family and y/n's family always went on a summer vacation together ever since they could remember. "alright, let's get checked in." y/n's mom says. they all walk through the revolving doors and see the tropical vibe that is inside.

"cant wait to take the fattest nap of my life." y/n groans, leaning her head on nicks shoulder. "i agree." nick nods, looking down at her and giggling as she looked really tired. stands of hair had fallen out of her braid, and her lipliner and lipgloss had worn off ages ago.

chris looked over at her and met her gaze for a few seconds before looking away. although they had all been friends for many many years, chris was always her brothers best friend. if chris wasn't with his brothers, he was with him.

the kids, stood in line by their parents as they got handed their key. this year, the parents had splurged a bit and had gotten everyone their own individual room. as y/n got her key, she bolted to the elevators to go to her room to shower and nap. when she entered her room, she opened up her suitcase on the other side of the bed on the floor. she grabbed her toiletries and picked out a sleeping outfit which was just an oversized tee and sleeping shorts.

grabbing her towel, she headed off into the bathroom.

chris was the last one to get his key since his room had a bit of complications since the hotel was fully booked. after he got his key, he took his time into finding his room. when he spotted 373, he tapped the key card and entered the space, closing the door behind him. he dropped his suitcase off by the door and flopped on the bed, closing his eyes.

not even a minute later, he heard some movement in the bathroom. chris got startled and immediately sat up. what the hell. he thought. was he in the wrong room? was someone in the wrong room? the bathroom door opened and y/n came out with wet hair wearing an oversized tee. "chris? what are you doing in here?" she raised an eyebrow, patting her wet hair with her towel. "this is my room, what are you doing here?" chris was relieved that it was y/n and not some stranger.

he caught himself looking at her exposed legs and quickly looked back at her eyes. "what? no it's not." she said, hanging her towel up in the closet space. y/n grabbed her key card off of the night stand and held her hand out. "let me see yours." chris pulled his key card out of his pocket. she sat next to him, too close, and he could smell the sweetness of her shampoo. as he admired her side profile, she spoke up. "they're the same. do you think it was a mistake?" she looked at him.

"i dunno'. don't think so, i took longer because the hotel was fully booked." he shrugged. "i- i mean we could share a room, i won't mind. it's only a week." she said. chris nodded. "i don't mind either."

"well, i'm going to take a nap. please don't be too loud."

two hours later, y/n woke up from her nap and switched on her other side to be met with chris laying on his phone. "hey there, sleepyhead." chris noticed that she was awake. "what time is it?" she asked, yawning. "seven twenty two." he looked at the corner of his phone. she tosses the blanket off of her and sits up, her hair still lightly damped.

chris watched her as she sat up, and putting her slippers on as she made her way to the bathroom. as she entered the bathroom, his eyes wandered down south, seeing the bottom of her shorts ride up. stop it! he thought and shook his head, looking away. chris went back to using his phone trying to the get imagine of the silver if skin that he had seen out of his mind. she was his best friends little sister after all.

a couple of minutes later, she walked out looking more awake. she made her way to her suitcase and threw on a hoodie. "i'm going to the food court, wanna come?" she untucked her hair from the inside of her hoodie. "sure, why not." chris shrugged, putting his phone away and grabbing a key card from the nightstand.

the two of them walked next to eachother down the hall making their way to the elevator. y/n's stomach growled since she was starving. she was thankful that the resort had a food court. when they arrived at the small court, they looked at their options. "what did you want to get?" he looked at her, admiring her facial features. "uhm, probably a burger and some fries, you?" he nodded. "i'll get the same."

they both walked to the burger station and got their food. the food was brought back up to their room. her and chris sat on the bed eating their food as they watched a horror movie on the television. "why the hell would he go out there knowing the killer is there, my fucking god." she said, pointing at the screen. chris laughed, ever since they were kids she'd always made little commentary during movies stating her opinion. that was one of the many things he liked about her.

after the movie had ended, the food long gone. it was nearing ten pm and chris was starting to get sleepy. "i'm going to start getting ready for bed." he said, getting up off of the bed and heading to his suitcase. chris grabbed his toiletries and a change of clothes along with his towel to shower. "alright." she said, scrolling on her phone. y/n on the other hand, was wide awake. the nap she had taken and the food she had eaten, she wasn't going to sleep anytime soon.

soon, chris got out of the shower, his hair wet and he was shirtless. she stared for a couple of seconds before going back to scrolling through her phone. "is it okay if i turn the lights off?" chris hung his towel next to hers. "go ahead." she nodded, laying on her side away from chris. the lights turned off and shortly after she felt the bed dip two feet away from her. "g'night." he yawned. "night, chris." she turned her phone brightness and volume down so he can sleep.

it was now a bit past midnight and she was watching a show on her phone with low volume. chris was still fast asleep and shifted a few times in his sleep, mumbling incoherent words. she giggled ever time it happened because whenever they would have sleepover as kids, he'd always deny that he talked in his sleep.

as she continued watching the movie, she felt chris scoot closer to her and drape his arm over her waist. the sudden movement startled her as is was unexpected. however, she thought nothing of it, he was always a cuddly sleeper.

chris kept mumbling and moving here and there. until, she started to feel something poke her lower back. was he having a wet dream? she paused her movie, maybe she was wrong? chris rocked his hips and bit and whined. shit. she was right.

deep in his sleep, the tension in his pants woke him up. and he found himself cuddled y/n from behind and gently rocking his hips against her. "oh my god, i'm so sorry!" he quickly took his hand off and sat up. she followed, turned the lamp on. "it's okay, chris." she said. "i'm so so sorry, y/n. fuck!" he cursed at himself.

"chris, i said it's okay." she climbed on his lap. he was surprised at what she was doing. hell, even she was surprised at herself. "w- what are you doing?" his hands came up to rest on her hips and she settled herself on his lap. "can i help you? is that okay?." she held his face in her hands, caressing his cheek. "yes, fuck, please do." he nodded, answering her questions.

she brought their lips together in a kiss. chris moaned into the kiss. he had been wanting to do this forever. her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands rubbed against her sides, groaning when she pushed her core against his hard on. y/n pulled away, holding his chin. chris tried to connect his lips back with hers but she pulled away slightly and smirked.

she swore she heard him whine. "let me help you." she let go of his chin, her hand traveling down his chest to the waistband of his sweats. he nodded, giving her permission to pull him out. "words, chris." she looked into his eyes. "yes, yes, please." she giggled at his eagerness. "i'll take good care of you, promise." she leaned down to press a kiss on his neck before she climbed off of his lap and sat on her knees near his thighs.

he pulled his sweats and underwear down a bit and his cock sprung up. "look at you, so hard." she cooed, gently taking him into her hand. he hissed. "fuck." he threw his head back. "so sensitive, i've barely touched you." her hand squeezed him a bit. he groaned. y/n smirked, bringing her thumb up to his slit that's leaking with pre-come.

her hand began to move up and down his length at a faster pace. she was awed at the sight of him. his jaw was slacked, and his head was thrown back against the headboard. "doin' so good f'me, babe." her lips came up to his exposed neck. the pet name only made him harder.

"i want you to come in my hand, alright? want every. single. drop. on my hand. we don't wanna waste a drop, now do we?" she bites the skin on his neck, not hard enough to leave a mark. how would they explain it to everyone tomorrow morning?

"so- so close. don't stop." he gasped, feeling his orgasm build up. she let go of him for a bit and he whined. "baby, wha- why'd you stop?" he says out of breath, lifting his head off of the headboard. she smirked, scooting to sit on his thighs. "patience, chris."

chris looked down at her shirt covered chest and saw her nipples poking her thin shirt. "want me to take it off?" y/n noticed his gaze on her nipples. he nodded. "yes, can- can i?" the ache of his cock very much still there. "go ahead." she smiled, moving a piece of his hair that fell on his forehead.

his hands came to the bottom of her shirt and lifted it over her head. chris' eyes locked onto her exposed chest. he brought his hands up to her tits and gently squeezed them. as he caressed them, her hands were now back on his cock. "yes, fuck, yes!" he groaned. "you like that, yeah? like my hand on your hard cock." she looked into his eyes.

"kiss me, please." he said, bringing his hands from her tits to her neck. she didn't stop the movement of her hands as he pulled her into a kiss. the room was filled with the smacking sound of their lips and her hand on moving up and down his cock.

"so close, shit!" he mumbled into the kiss. "come for me, chris." her hand sped up. "fuck, fuck, fuck!" he chanted, feeling the familiar build up. he couldn't keep up with kissing her, his head falling back against the headboard again. "i'm- shit! i'm cumming! fuck, baby!" his jaw went slack at the intensity of his orgasm.

spurts of his white come dripped down her hand and painted her sternum and his lower belly. "shit-" he twitched as he became sensitive in her hands.

"did so good for me, baby. so good." she smiled, bringing her cum covered finger up to her mouth.

"you even taste good."

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moechies · 2 months ago

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kinktober ⋆౨ৎ entry #3 ; throat training w nanami kento .ᐟ

dear diary ♡,

last night, i gave kento a blowjob / head ! it was terrible, though, and i’m surprised he didn’t hate it! it was my first time — i was spluttering all over the place and messed up his pants >< so embarrassing! i’m embarrassed to even reminisce back to the scene! i dunno . . i think, maybe he liked it because he kept groaning (?) and i swear it was growing harder and harder in my mouth each time i choked. i heard that guys like those things . . at the mention of choking — his cock was hitting the back of my throat so much and making me teary! because he didn’t let me touch or wipe my face, i bet i looked so stupid with teary eyes and a big cock in my mouth (T_T) even though it’s all terribly embarrassing, i can’t help but want to do it again . .

“kenny, d’you still like me?” you quip, joking half-heartedly. you sink into the couch besides him, tossing your leg over his. he lets out a soft grunt, tugging your body closer and onto his — falling pliant against his warmth.

“why do you ask, honey? of course i do.” he speaks, purring against his chest. “how’s your throat?”

you huff, nuzzling closer into his chest and taking a longed whiff of scent. fuck. “kenny . . i wanna do it again.”

“what is it you want to do again, doll?” he questions, his fingers twirling into the soft strands of your hair.

“wan—wanna suck your dick again.” you whine, pressing your chin onto his chest and looking up at him. he’s already peering down at you, admiring the soft shimmer of need and want in your eyes. “please . .”

“hmm . . no can do doll.” he hums, grinning at your dedication. his hand leaves your hair, coming to softly wrap around your throat. you let out a soft, pained squeak, the ache in your throat prominent. “see? you’re still hurting here.”

“‘s only a bit . .” you whine hoarsely as his hand snakes to the back of your neck, tugging you close to press a gentle kiss against your forehead. “making you feel g—good is more important.”

“that’s not true. your health is most important, sweet girl.” he speaks sternly, laying against the cushion and taking you down with him. you can feel the chub of his cock beginning to stiffen, prodding against your tummy where you lay against him. your innocent demeanor and soft tone don’t fit the conversation’s topic — maybe that’s what’s making him so fucking hard.

you giggle, tracing a finger down his chest, feeling his heaves grow manual. “kento, can feel you gettin’ hard below me.” you purr, tugging yourself higher up onto his body by his neck. you wrap your arms tightly around his strong neck, as tight as it permits with his huge collarbones. you nuzzle against his cheek, pressing an abundance of kisses onto his freshly shaven face. “let me, jus’ teach me, i know you want to.”

he growls when you paw at his bulge, bucking his hips into your hand as his way of approval. you giggle — he’s too easy. but how could he say no to those gorgeous begging orbs and your soft squeaks of his name? darling — he is a strong man but . . not that strong.

nanami flips you under him, arms caged around your body as he hovers over you. he stands tall, eyes never leaving your face as his hand drags across his clothes bulge, making the shape prominent through his sweats. “come here.” he commands, and you reach your arms forward, crawling towards him on fours like an obedient puppy.

you paw at the waistband of his pants and he lets you — lets you tug down on the loose fabric to reveal his now thinly clothed cock solely covered by his cotton briefs. you feel yourself damn near salvitate at the sight before you, easily able to locate his bridged tip that lays clad against his right thigh. “how does your throat feel?”

“‘s alright kento . .” you mumble with no regards for your throat, eyes zeroed in on the fat tip of his cock you need to suck on.

“hey. do you remember what i taught you yesterday?” he chuckles, fingers tapping on your hot cheek to bring you back to reality. your eyes flutter back into his face, giving him a soft nod before leaning into the apple of his palm. his hand moves from where it once laid against your cheek to the bottom of your jaw, pulling you forward and mere inches away from his shaft. he uses a thumb to tug down at the band of his briefs, teasing his fat, blushed tip right in your face. you whine, pacing back and forth from his face to his cock for a green light — and he gives you a nod.

you give his damp slit a soft, shaky peck, growing goosebumps across the back of your arms and across your back when you hear him chuckle. you’re nervous and he can tell — but he won’t make you a fool. his hand still cups your jaw gently, thumb trailing to press at your puffy lower lip as a way to signal — stick out your tongue.

and of course you do — pink tongue sticking out before giving his slit an experimental lick, laying the hot muscle fully across his leaking hole. he groans at the warmth and velvet touch, and you feel him twitch below your tongue. it doesn’t take long for your confidence to boast, enveloping his fat cock head with your soft, chubby lips.

kento sighs, his right leg stepping up on the cushioned couch where you’re sprawled. he tugs the remainder of his briefs below his plump balls, giving you the full view of his swollen, flushed shaft before you. it’s intimidating of course — but, you can do it. you’re sure you can.

with confidence soaring through your body, and a low groan to boost so, you take him further into your mouth, slobbering over the first few inches of his shaft. you moan at the stiff being in your mouth, running your tongue on the underside of his top before swirling it over. “fuck.”

nanami quickly bucks his hips, mumbling quiet apologies when he hears you squeak from the sudden movement. you peer up at him, his disheveled hair and heavy pants paired with lidded eyes tell you something he doesn’t need to express verbally.

“are you ready to take more?” he asks all sultry, as if he was offering you a sweet treat. in a sense, he was.

you nod gently, sure to keep your teeth away from the shaft. it’s sensitive here, try to keep your teeth tucked in, and don’t bite down no matter how much it hurts.

you flashback to the night before, cunt quivering at the reminder. his hands grip a tad tighter at your jaw, pressing himself into your mouth further than you had expected — his cock slides to the left side of your cheek. he moans wantonly, gently thrusting at the soft walls of your mouth.

you look great like this.

he readjusts himself, pulling himself out before pressing himself deep into the depths of your mouth as you permit it to — finally hitting the rim of your throat. he gives it an experimental thrust, and low and behold comes what you have dreaded most ; you gag.

you look up to him with watery eyes, swollen lips pulling away from his shaft with his cock still lodged deep in your mouth. you splutter — coughing lowly at the intrusion.

“see? you’re still much too inexperienced to take it.” he chuckles, giving your throat another gentle squeeze. to his entertainment, it makes you gag again, the rim of your throat tightening and he feels it all.

your brows furrow, and you sniffle gently, desperate to reach to wipe away the forming tears. without remorse, nanamin’s hips press forward, bulging at your resisting throat. “open up.” he groans, a hand coming to swipe away your hairs.

you do — you try — loosening your jaw and throat like he taught you the night before. his chubby tip lodges deep into your throat at the intial loosening, and you gag harshly around him. “calm down darling,” he coos, thumb coming up to wipe at your damp cheeks and nuzzle your face in a comforting sense. he thrusts slowly, careful not to trigger another gag. your sniffles are staggered, eyes shut tight, “nice and slow . . .” he drags out, nearly stuffing the remainder of himself down your swollen throat. the ache in your throat is growing more prominent, as is the ache in your sore cunt. it aches everywhere, and you need kento to satiate it.

"you're making me so proud, darling." nanami's leg steps forward, closing the distance between your mouth and the base of his cock. you sigh internally, body shivering when you feel his dewy balls against your chin, the damp sweat making it so that his ball sack sticks to you. you bravely press yourself deeper into him, another low gag is elicited but it doesn't stop you from nuzzling against his manhood, taking a longed whiff of his honey-blonded bush. the rough patch of hair rubs against your nose, making you moan. you look up to him again, eyes lidded and lashes fluttering incessantly — god, you drive him crazy. he looks away — he has to, or he might just cum deep in that warm throat of yours and disappoint you, darling.

his hand readjusts, the one once gripping your jaw comes up to tug at your hair once you’ve adjusted to him. “baby listens to her daddy so well, doesn’t she?” your heart flutters at the mention of your favorite nickname for him — his eyes meeting yours expectingly. you nod with your eyes, pupils slowly dilating into hearts. “doing such a great job warming and sucking daddy’s cock.”

he tugs you back by your hair, watching strings of spit drag across his shaft from your warming mouth. nanami gradually increases the pace of his fucking, his tug on your hair growing a bit stronger, hips moving harsher. your eyes shut tight to prepare yourself for a proper fucking, pacing yourself to acclimate to his well-earned blowjob after these training sessions. “daddy’ll make sure you feel so good after this, okay? just let me use my sweet baby’s throat right now, just for a bit.” he groans, shooting you a soft smile before you feel a harsh pump to the back of your throat — a short spurt of cum dribbling straight down your throat.

oh — you’re in for a long night.

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chelseeebe · 6 months ago

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truth or dare

18+. mdni. smuuuut. yeah man it’s really just smut. eddie munson x female reader.

a/n: not sure if i really like this but i wanted to post something while i work on this other long ass thing that may never see the light of day el oh el a continuation to gimme a hand and bump n’ grind or can absolutely be read on it’s own!

steve and robin had made the right call, leaving a few hours ago before the storm really hit.

eddie’d stupidly offered another joint, not wanting to let you go so soon. optimistic that maybe something would happen after those two had cleared off.

you’d been darting around it all evening, watching the movie with your hand under the blanket, stroking his thigh. inadvertently, or perhaps purposefully, making his cock shift with every length of your hand.

you peer out of the window, clicking your tongue against the back of your teeth, “i don’t think i can drive,” turning back to face him, “it’s really comin’ down out there,” a hint of satisfaction in your voice.

“i’m sure wayne won’t mind if you crash here,” shrugging softly.

you used to stay around a lot when you were slightly younger, back when touch was innocent and there weren’t all these complicated layers to your relationship.

“can you handle that?”

his eyes roll back, “shut up,” sitting back in his spot on the couch. anticipating spending the night here rather than in his bed, desperate to prove that he could handle it.

“whatcha wanna do?” you sing, pursing your lips.

“i dunno,” he shrugs, “we could watch another movie?” knowing that ultimately, another movie would lead to you touching his thigh until he came or something.

“that’s boring,” scowling at his suggestion, “i mean.. we are stuck in here,” biting on your bottom lip, “let’s play a game,” you propose, cocking your head, “truth or dare.”

eddie groans, an unwilling participant in your silly little games.

“come on,” offering zero incentive for him to play, “it’ll be fun,” taking another swig of the surely luke-warm beer. “truth or dare?”

there is not a single bone in his body that wants to play with you. no doubt you’d have him confessing to something embarrassing or doing something dangerous or stupid.

“dare,” he says flatly, hoping you’ll dare him to jump out of the window or something.

“i dare you..” you ponder for only a second, “to take your shirt off.”

“wh-,” he starts, mouth falling open, “well i dare you to take your shirt off.”

“it’s not my turn, idiot,” pursing your lips, “off.. now.”

pouting your lips, watching carefully as he lifts his shirt off, tossing it to the other side of the room.

“alright,” honing in on this stupid game, “truth or dare?”

“dare.”

eddie’s eyes light up, “take your shirt off,” immediately getting his own back.

“you’re supposed to say i dare you before your dare,” tutting at his impatience, though you do as he says.

lifting your shirt over your head, revealing the lacy bra you had most definitely chosen on purpose. maybe this was your plan all along, waiting to get him alone to inflict your cruel wrath upon him.

he ogles just enough to not have you mention anything, diverting his attention back to whatever drivel was on the tv. desperate to just get over this dancing around each other and get to the inevitable.

“truth or dare?” you ask again, poking his leg with your foot.

“do we have to play?” eddie whines.

“yes.”

“okay truth,” he spits, leaning back against the cushions.

“why didn’t it work out with you and chrissy?”

he groans again, already sick of this, “we wanted different things,” different things being you, he means.

“like what? i thought you were testing the waters or whatever?” mocking him with his own words.

“you. you jerked me off and ruined my life forever, is that what you wanted me to say?”

you ponder in silence for a moment before that god awful smirk creeps onto your face, “actually yes, that’s exactly what i wanted you to say,” crossing your legs, all self-righteous and smug.

it’s not like you didn’t already know this, it was fairly obviously to anyone with eyes and two brain cells to rub together.

“your turn,” smiling pointedly at you, “truth or dare?”

you hum, contemplating your options, whatever you picked, he was surely going to make it worth his while.

“dare.”

“alright,” eddie sits up straight, poking his tongue into his cheek, “i dare you to run around outside in your underwear,” if you wanted to play stupid games, you could win stupid prizes too.

your smile grows, taking over your entire face, “fine,” standing from your spot on the floor, shimmying out of your jeans right in front of him.

he jumps up, rushing to the door as you bound outside, filling the silent trailer park with your squeals and squeaks.

eddie watches in quiet amazement, more focused on the way your tits move with every bound, your lacy panties framing your jiggling ass perfectly. he’s close to drooling, turning into a slobbering mess at the sight of you literally frolicking in your panties. he was a pathetic man, and he knew it.

you turn, running full speed back into the door, teeth chattering and your hands trembling from the cold. barrelling straight past him, back into the warmth, lashes coated in tiny, intricate snowflakes.

“fuck!” you screech, “you asshole,” picking up his discarded shirt to slip on instead of your own. he wishes you hadn’t. seeing you half naked in his shirt was far worse than seeing you actually naked.

eddie snickers, closing the door all the while trying to keep his composure.

a smirk erupts onto your face, something ticking away in your brain before you stomp over, grabbing his cheeks with your ice cold hands, grinning with pure self satisfaction.

he hollers, grabbing your wrists in defence. it becomes a flailing sort of dance, with you trying to keep your cold hands on his face and him fighting to get you away. a mixture of expletives fill the trailer, screeching over one another as you move around the room.

you trip over one of the discarded bottles on the floor, sending you flying back onto the couch, still breathlessly cursing him out.

eddie takes the only logical step, pouncing on top of your flailing body, bounding your arms together at the wrist, heaving for breath.

he freezes, the realisation that for once he had all the power dawning upon him, unequipped for the sudden change in dynamic.

he can feel you, underneath him, pressed into the couch by his body, sending shivers down his spine.

“you gonna do something or what?” you snark, no longer trying to wriggle free, accepting and even pleased in your defeat.

“yeah,” he adds meekly, despite not making an attempt to actually do something.

your brows thread together, knee sliding up the side of his body, spreading your legs further as his cock perks up in response.

holy fucking shit.

this was it.

or it could be it if he can gather his raucous thoughts enough to make a move.

eddie’s had sex before, multiple times in fact. he doesn’t understand why his hands aren’t doing the thing they should be, why he’s frozen in place, waiting for something to happen.

“we don’t have to, you know?”

fuck. he was going to fuck this up through sheer stupidity.

so instead of letting his brain worm his way out of what would probably be the best moment of his life, he thinks with his dick.

pressing his lips to yours in a hasty, rushed kiss. letting your hands free from his restraint, allowing you to weave your fingers through his hair just like he’d thought so much about.

his hands crawling underneath his shirt, touching your skin for what felt like the first time ever, gliding over your waist, appreciating the soft feel of your skin, lingering for too long.

he doesn’t want to take it off, how many times could he say he’d have sex with you with his shirt on?

you’d already stripped him out of his clothes, leaving nothing to the imagination as his hips grind down against yours, breathing shakily into your mouth.

your lips latch onto his, tongue sliding into his open mouth while your fingers pull gently at his curls.

even when eddie thinks he’s fully in control, you still take charge. rutting your hips upwards, separated by the thin layer of lace and his boxers that most definitely had a hole in them.

there’s a fifty percent chance that he’ll cum right away, already incredibly hard, teetering on the edge.

it’s genuinely incomprehensible that after months and months of longing and edging, this was finally happening. too caught up with trying to keep to your pace to really think about the implications on your relationship too much.

he hopes that this won’t change anything, at least not negatively anyway.

your hand slides down the tiny space left in between your bodies, toying with the waistband of his boxers before slipping in. unable to contain his groan from slipping out and into your mouth.

tugging the fabric down just enough to let his cock out, giving him no time to recover before your fist wraps around the base of his cock, pumping your fingers around the sensitive skin.

“fuck,” he breathes, bottom lip still latched onto yours. no hand had ever come close to yours, filling his thoughts since you’d touched him for the first time.

wayne’s ratty old couch wasn’t exactly the romantic location he’d envisioned this happening in, but beggars can’t be choosers and eddie certainly wasn’t going to complain.

he’s so dumbfounded that any of this is even happening, clumsily fumbling with the lace hem of your underwear, tugging them down haphazardly, with no care or grace.

his previous displays of desperation made sure you didn’t care about his composure, or else you wouldn’t be here.

your lips collide, all teeth and tongues and spit. eddie too focused on the feel of your hand around his cock to care.

he can feel your body shift from underneath, manoeuvring his cock to your soaked entrance, letting out the most ungodly noise as the tip glistens with your slick.

pressing your sweaty forehead against his, begging for his full attention, “look at me,” you insist, running your fingers around his cock, withholding him from full satisfaction.

he does as you ask, finding your wild-eyed gaze, holding it just long enough to slide into your slick cunt, grunting into the hot air that hung around the room.

“fuck,” you bite, weaving your fingers through his hair, tightening your things around his waist.

it’s dizzying. feeling you envelope around him just as he’d imagined countless times before. you’re so warm and so wet, so so wet. eddie can’t help but wonder if this is how you’d felt when you were grinding against him.

nothing could’ve ever prepared him for the fuzzy haze that’d encapsulate his brain, thoughts only of you and your body and your pussy.

his balls slap against your ass, slow and steady, hoping not to bust five seconds in. keeping his eyes on yours, encapsulated by the way they flit between his eyes and his lips.

heaven wouldn’t be too far off this, he thinks.

his rhythm is neither here nor there but he was trying, filling you to the hilt and then pulling back out again.

every soft, melodic gasp and cry you made was echoing through his brain, spurring him on to make them louder.

purely intoxicated with your pussy, gasping for more as he slams against your hips.

this wasn’t going to last long but he sure as shit was going to make it worthwhile.

you writhe underneath his body, fingernails grazing against his scalp, gentle and yet demanding.

“sh-shit eds,” you pant, jaw slack with your tongue practically lolling out of your head.

just hearing you moan his name has detrimental effects on his brain chemistry. his eyelids struggle, fluttering open just enough to meet your glossy eyes, pupils blown out and crazy. this was going to wreck him for the rest of his life, cursed forever by the image of you and your parted lips. the way you wail his name becoming a tune he’d revisit constantly.

he’d love to capture it, one day, if you’d let him.

no one would ever come close to you, your cunt and your god forsaken sighs. eddie promises to himself that if there’s a next time, he’s not leaving until you cum. unsure if he’d be able to control himself but more than willing to take that risk.

his thrusts become sporadic, losing his grip on reality as he teeters closer and closer to the edge. you can see it too, tugging gently on his hair to bring him back to this reality.

pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his mouth, too high off of your own pleasure to aim for accuracy.

eddie’s not sure if he prefers your goading or this softer touch, honestly neither were helping him not to bust his load right now.

“yeah?” you breathe, in response to his hoarse grunts, succumbing to the tightening pressure in his stomach, “you gonna cum?” sighing against his mouth.

he doesn’t want to, not really. hoping this’d last forever and ever because god knows if you’d ever let him touch you again.

hoping desperately to have not wasted his one and only time buried inside of you by cumming in five minutes flat.

but he is going to cum, in fact, he’s dangerously close to doing so immediately. the way you squeeze and tighten around him only accelerating the inevitable, his toes curling and mouth running dry.

he was seeing stars, dancing around the inside of his eyelids. woozy on adrenaline as he pathetically ruts his hips into yours for a final few lousy strokes.

“oh fuck,” eddie rushes, “no- fuck i’m cumming,” his cock slides out, thick ropes of his release covering not only your inner thighs but the couch too. collapsing atop of your perfect body, pinning you to the cushions as he attempts to gain some sort of semblance of control.

his face finds your chest, heaving for breath between your tits, his shirt pulled up just enough for your bra to peep underneath the hem.

“jesus christ,” words vibrating against your skin, almost purring at your fingers combing through his hair.

nothing he could ever dream would match up to that. the neurons in his brain had been frazzled, never to work or compute the way they should, ever again.

he places a measly kiss to your chest, looking up at you through his lashes, an insignificant gesture of appreciation that he felt he owed.

“you good?” you ask, lips twitching into a smile, unsure if you’re mocking him or genuinely concerned. either or would be fine.

“not really,” still floating up above the clouds.

“shut up,” definitely mocking, pulling tufts of his hair back to have him meet your eye fully, “you liked that?”

he nods enthusiastically, pining after your approval like the lovesick little loser he truly was. incredibly, you hadn’t run off into the storm, so maybe you had too.

“good,” abruptly letting go of his hair, his head falling back onto your chest, “get off me, i need a shower,” attempting to peel him off of your body.

eddie knows, or at least hopes, that your snippy, sarcastic comments were made out of love. you showed affection by being a bitch and he showed his by being a stumbling, pathetic loser.

if that was all he had to endure to get anywhere near your pussy again, he’d do it in a heartbeat. each and every time.

wayne’s knuckles wrap against his bedroom door, waking eddie from the already broken sleep he was suffering with, far too excitable to settle down properly. instead he’d spent his hours between drifting in and out of sleep and watching your dreamy face, trying to match his breaths to yours.

he slides out of bed, careful not to wake you, treading carefully to avoid the mountains of crap strewn across the floor.

“what the hell?” wayne whispers angrily, gesturing back to the living room he had neglected to clean. too caught up in you being in his shower and in his bed with his shirt on to care about empty beer bottles and discarded clothes.

“sorry,” eddie squirms, knowing he couldn’t exactly worm his way out of this one. “we had a few beers.. you know,” shrugging coyly. his uncle wasn’t stupid, he definitely did know.

wayne’s eyes narrow, flitting behind eddie to you, sleeping soundly in his bed. thankfully covered by the blanket as you slept in just his shirt.

“what happened there?” raising his brow at his inconspicuous nephew.

he shrugs, and then he grins. that great big toothy grin that wayne couldn’t mistake.

wayne shakes his head, tutting to himself as he backs away from the door, “clean that shit up before i wake up,” before disappearing into his own room.

eddie smiles to himself, sliding back into bed when you stir, humming softly, displeased to have been woken up so early.

“is he mad?” you mumble, muffled by the pillow.

“no.. no, not really,” eddie hushes, turning on his side to face you.

you’re still dozing, not bothering to open your eyes though he didn’t mind, you were peaceful this way, far calmer than your usual self.

“good,” settling into the pillow before slinging your leg over his thigh, pulling yourself closer, “he loves me too much to do anything anyway,” nestling your body into his side.

if the world ended tomorrow, eddie would die a happy man.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson being pathetic #eddie munson x reader

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nerdy-novelist017 · 5 months ago

Text

A Date (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader Pt 3)

Thank you so much for all your kind words, likes and reblogs on my last two posts! You guys are keeping me so entertained with the comments!

Ugh I rewrote this like 3 times :( I just couldn't get it right and I'm still not sure how I feel about it OH WELL

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 2.2K

Summary- You were sure you'd never see Benny Cross again. . . you were wrong.

******

“Benny’s been asking for ya.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you nearly dropped the receiver into the bowl of cake batter. Kathy’s statement came out of left field, the two of you having been discussing the latest news on the block – what kind of lipstick Sheryl Dickie uses that somehow always lasts an entire night of bar hopping. “What?”

“Yeah, says he’s real desperate to ask you somethin’,” Kathy’s tone was flippant, but you’ve known her long enough to hear the excitement she’s hiding in her voice.

“What could he possibly have to talk to me about?” You asked as you set the whisk down and moved around the kitchen counter to peak down the hallway towards the living room where you knew your father sat in his large recliner, watching a rerun of Bonanza.

“I dunno, maybe you should come to another meetin’ so you can find out.”

“No, I’m not going to anymore of those.” you declared firmly, yanking the cord so that the phone was up to your other ear. “I don’t know how you can stand being around those guys.”

Kathy laughed, the static spiking. “C’mon, they’re fun, and you know it. Did you tell your parents how you got to ride on the back of a Vandal’s bike, and not just any Vandal!”

“No!” you squeaked. “And they’re never going to know. It was a one-time thing.”

“It doesn’t have to be. They’re having another meetin’ tonight. I’m sure Benny could pick you up–”

“Well, I can’t tonight,” you cut her off. “I have plans.”

“What plans?”

“My date.”

“Date?” Kathy asked, voice lowering dubiously. “With who?”

“Pete,” you said quietly.

“Who?” she asked again.

You sighed. “Pete? The guy from Mama’s church?”

Pete was introduced to you last week by your mother who was introduced to him by his mother. It was a train of people who wanted to matchmake, to see young love blossom before their eyes, even if it was forced. Pete was nice enough and he had kind eyes that sat behind wide-rimmed glasses. You’d been on one other date with him. He was an engineering student in his first year and he talked a lot about his school. He liked school. And he liked to golf nearly every weekend (his family belonged to the country club on the upper side of town). And mostly – he talked a lot about himself. He seemed to really like himself too.

“Oh, okay.” Kathy sounded unimpressed.

“My family really likes him. My dad likes him.”

“Yeah?”

At her unenthusiastic response, you added quickly, “And I’m excited!”

“Is that why you’re stress-baking?” Kathy inquired as if she could sense it.

You glance down at the bowl of cake batter. No, it wasn’t, actually. You weren’t nervous to go on your second date with Pete; he didn’t make her nervous, didn’t fill your belly with those pesky butterflies. Pete was . . . just Pete. No, you were stress-baking because of a certain blonde Bikerider whose ocean blue eyes wouldn’t leave your thoughts all night. You were up, tossing and turning, replaying every moment with him like a broken record. It was one ride, the logical side of your mind had to say, and you’ll never see him again. You allowed yourself the rest of the night to think about him, and then you wouldn’t set aside any more time.

In theory, it was a nice strategy. But when you woke up today, your thoughts were absolutely clouded with him and his incredibly direct eye-contact and his deeply rich voice and his hand touching your thigh and his lips encasing the cigarette—

You were doing it again! It had been one ride! One ride and a few hours. One ride where your arms wrapped so tightly to his solid form. One ride where he showed you places you’d never seen before, from a point of view you’d never been before. One ride where you felt as though you were seeing the world in a whole new light. One ride that you couldn’t get out of your head.

“Yes, because of Pete,” you replied evenly. “And I’m going to have a good time with him tonight.”

There’s a smile in her voice when she says, “Okay, sure. Say, what restaurant did ya say he was takin’ you?”

********

Thanking the driver, you stepped out of the cab, your heels connecting softly with the concrete of the sidewalk. Taking a moment to smooth any wrinkles on your pink dress, your gaze fluttered across the street to the restaurant Pete told you to meet him at.

Ricardo’s was one of the most expensive restaurants in town, somewhere you never found yourself frequenting, but Pete absolutely gushed about their food. Coming from old money, Pete had no hesitation picking here for your second date. Pete’s family was well off, that’s what your mother liked to point out. He was a good boy with good money. He would provide for you, buy you a nice house with a picket fence in the front yard. A safe bet for the same routine life that nearly all the women of your family had spanning back several generations.

You made your way across the street, eyes taking in the lineup of expensive cars parked out front: Mercedes, Rolls Royce, Cadillac . . . Harley-Davidson motorcycle. You did a double-take at the shiny metal glinting underneath the streetlamp, eyes traveling upwards to the figure leaning casually against it. He was looking at the restaurant, head turned to give a generous view of his profile, and he hadn’t noticed you yet. For a split second, you considered taking advantage of that and booking it into the front door before he had a chance to stop you. But some deeply intrinsic part of you yearned to memorize every detail of him and you simply couldn’t look away. As a moth drawn to flame, you were drawn to him, to the golden streaks of his hair, down to the strong slope of his nose, the curve where his top lip sat so perfectly against the bottom – even with the cigarette tucked between. He wore long sleeves under his club jacket and the same distressed jeans from your last encounter. Half shrouded in the darkness of night, with the orange glow of the streetlight nearest to him, he looked like a beacon of mystery. Abandoning your previous course, you turned and approached him.

“What are you doing here?” You asked once you were close enough for him to hear you.

Benny turned and a smile broke out over his features, eyes sweeping down your figure. “Do you dress like that all the time or only when you’re gonna see me?” He asked, nodding to your dress and heels.

You stopped about 6 feet away from him (a reasonable distance), hopping up onto the sidewalk. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“What a chance encounter,” he proclaimed with a secretive wink that sent your stomach on a roller coaster ride.

“Chance encounter, or Kathy’s loose lips?” you quipped and he rubbed a hand over his mouth to keep from smiling, fingers grazing through the blonde, recently-trimmed facial hair.

“Why are you here?” You asked again, this time a touch quieter.

“Well, I have a coupon,” he replied simply.

You couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at your lips, your brows raising incredulously. “A coupon? To Ricardo’s?”

“Mm-hm,” he nodded, straight-faced.

You rolled your eyes at his antics. He had a coupon, your ass. A well-dressed elderly couple walked past you both on the sidewalk, each shooting a look of disapproval toward the dirty young man leaning against his death machine. Benny seemed not to notice them, his gaze still on you.

“Why are you here?” he questioned.

“I–I have a date,” you replied and desperately tried to ignore the heat rising to your face at the admission. “But something tells me you already know that.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, looking down to the ground for all of five seconds before his gaze flashed back up to you. “Wanna go for a ride, Little Bunny?”

“What? No.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Why not?”

“Well, I just told you I'm here for a date,” you replied with a tilt of your head.

Benny shrugged. “So?”

You shook your head but he continued, “Why are you wastin’ your time with dates when we’re gonna be married anyway?”

Your mouth fell open in surprise. The nerve on this guy! Part of you was surprised that he still had it in his head of marrying you. You thought maybe he had a few too many beers last night or was just smooth-talking you so that you’d let him sleep with you. But here he was, showing up on the sidewalk, giving you those puppy eyes. You’d already denied him once. Could he not take a hint?

“I don’t recall you ever asking.” you pointed out, feeling emboldened by his casual attitude.

He perked up at that, tossing the remainder of his cigarette to the ground. “You want me to ask?”

You fought to remain neutral-faced at his playfulness. “No, thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . . I have a date.” One that you were excited about before you caught sight of Benny and your train of thoughts completely derailed.

Benny held his hands up in a conciliatory way and you turned on your heel, leaving him out on the streets as you made your way inside.

******

The clock on the far wall seemed to be mocking you, minutes ticking by mercilessly. You resisted looking at it, instead planting your chin in the palm of your hand as you watched the door, waiting for Pete’s familiar face to appear. It had been over an hour. He was over an hour late for your date.

Each time the waitress returned to fill your glass of water, you told yourself a new lie. He was just stuck at work, he’ll be here soon. He was running behind getting ready, he’ll be here soon. There must have been an emergency, he’ll be here soon. He wouldn’t stand you up, he’ll be here soon.

But as the seconds passed, you sunk further and further into your seat, humiliation forming a ball in your stomach. Surely, he had gotten his days mixed up? He really seemed to enjoy your first date, so why was he nowhere to be seen. Every time someone walked through the front door, the little bell chiming above, you glanced up, certain it would be him. But it never was. At first, you were angry. How could he have the audacity to leave you hanging without so much as calling you before he left if he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it. Then a bitter thought came to mind: what if he stood you up because he didn’t want to go out with you again. What if you weren't good enough for him. You had spent your whole life on the never ending hamster wheel of trying to be good enough for everyone else. Was your hard work even noticed?

Recognizing the sting of unshed tears, you looked down at the napkin folded neatly in your lap, blinking rapidly in an attempt to get control of yourself. The bell chimed over the front door, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look over at it, not wanting to feel the crushing disappointment of another wealthy customer walking inside and not your date.

Then a flash of dark clothing popped across from you and you looked up just as Benny Cross slid into the empty seat. You opened your mouth, but no words came out. He leaned forward, elbows of his leather jacket propped over the tablecloth.

“Pete not show?” he asked, expression solemn.

Your ears burned and you shook your head. Too preoccupied by your embarrassment, it didn’t even occur to you that you had never told him Pete’s name.

He frowned and he genuinely appeared upset. Unable to maintain his direct gaze, you glanced away and caught the eyes of everyone else in the restaurant staring wide-eyed at the two of you. You realized that it was Benny who they were gawking at. And you didn’t seem to notice until now that he looked totally out of place with his worn clothes and dirty hands. As if sensing their not-so-subtle staring, Benny turned and looked about the room.

“What’s with all the stiff shirts in here?” he asked, sending you a conspiratorial glance. “I think they might be intimidated by you.”

“Me?” You furrowed your brow. It definitely wasn’t you they were looking at. In fact, the only person who was staring at you was Benny.

“Yeah, I bet they’ve never seen anyone as pretty as you. Most people haven’t and they don't know how to act when they do.” He grinned and you had to look down at your lap as heat rose to your face.

“I guess Pete wouldn’t agree,” you muttered quietly, feeling the anger in your heart fizzle out to meer disappointment.

“Fuck Pete,” Benny said passionately, causing an elderly woman behind you to gasp and you giggled, shocked at his language. Benny was bad, he was trouble . . . but he was also fun, and you couldn’t hide your eagerness as he leaned his arms across the table, moving closer to address you privately.

“You wanna get out of here, Bunny?” His question sent a gust of anticipation through your veins.

“Yeah,” you admitted, smiling shyly.

He stood quickly and you followed in suit. Then he did something that caused a wave of butterflies to roll through your stomach; he reached out and clasped his hand with you, interlocking fingers tightly. You grinned, excitement making you feel light and airy as he pulled you through the restaurant, past all the staring faces and harsh whispers and out the door into the night which felt alive with a whole new feeling of possibilities.

*Tag List*

@imusicaddict @elizabeth916 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love @ironmooncat @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @charmingballoon @eugene-emt-roe @sunnbib @semperamans @groovyangelkisses @killerqueenfan

#i need a biker boyfriend #benny cross #benny x bunny #benny cross x reader #the bikeriders #benny the bikeriders #fluff #imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler #benny x reader #motorcycle #austin butler fandom #austin bulter x you

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revasserium · 10 months ago

Note

Hey, can I request zoro x reader (established relationship) where the Strawhats end up going to reader’s home island (unknown to anyone in the group aside from reader), and the reader is super nervous and refuses to leave the boat, so the crew goes out and walk around and they find a missing/wanted poster of the reader and find out she’s a run away princess that needed to be. Later they coke to find out that reader ran away cause her parents and the servants mistreated and was about to marry her off to a violent prince

opla requests are: open

lips on every cross

opla!zoro; 5,989 words; fem!reader, semi-established?? relationship, posessive!zoro, strawhat!reader, no "y/n", reader gets kidnapped, fluff and angst, very brief! mentions of past familial abuse and trauma, nicknames ("Princess"), slow-ish burn???, more plot than not

summary: zoro has never thought himself a holy man. but he'd kiss every cross if it meant finding his way back to you.

a/n: idk why every opla fic i write is like... more plot than i bargained for but here we are. literally, this fic was just supposed to be "zoro calls the reader 'princess'".

01. when love arrives

(“Hey Princess —“)

The nickname starts, as almost all things do on the Going Merry, as a joke. And, as with most jokes made amongst the rag-tag crew, it sticks. He’d said it because he’s sure you’d mentioned your name once or twice already, but he’d been napping or eating and he didn’t feel like looking like an asshole right that moment.

The ribbon in your hair had caught the light in just the right way, pale pink satin — such a strange, soft color amidst the careening, careless ocean, and the word just… slipped.

“Why’dyou call her that?” Luffy asks, lounging back against the main mast as Zoro works through the umpteenth rep of single-armed pushups.

Zoro puffs out a breath and switches arms.

“Dunno. Seemed like it fit.”

Luffy slates you a long glance, blinking owlishly.

“Really? Eh — I guess… well, she is really pretty.”

Zoro only grunts, jumping up and stretching both arms over his head with a long, steady breath. His eyes flicker towards you as well, laughing with Nami on the foredeck, sipping on cocktails, Sanji probably simping somewhere nearby.

He thinks back to where they’d found you, hood pulled low over your eyes, the tell-tale signs of distress carved into every line of your body, from the curve of your spine to the bend of your shoulders.

Luffy hadn’t asked questions, so Zoro hadn’t either.

Curiosity, the fatal flaw that runs so sharp and obvious through the entirety of Luffy’s being, hasn’t always been rewarded well in Zoro’s experience. And he’s learned by now that “truth will out”, or so they say.

(“C’mon, Princess, I thought you said you could drink.”)

Caution, on the other hand, is Zoro’s oldest friend. You are cautious, if nothing else, and the first time he sees you relax in his presence, he wonders to himself if there’s a drug in this world strong enough to induce this feeling.

Later, he would learn that this is simply called falling in love.

He isn’t the only one who notices how you casually dip a silver fork or knife into every single drink before you take a sip, or that sometimes, you blurt out the word “no’ like a promise to yourself, and “sorry” like a plea for help.

And he’s spent long enough being a hunter to know what being hunted looks like. So he doesn’t ask, and you don’t answer, and somehow, you still manage to make yourself a home in the dark caverns of his chest, curling up there till he can’t count his heartbeats without it sounding like the shadow of your name on the midnight wind.

02. a study of light and dark

The drinking game starts off innocently enough (and don’t they always), but it takes half a round for the questions and subsequent answers to devolve into loud laughter and debauchery, delirium and debasement.

“Alright, alright —“ Sanji holds up a hand, tossing back his shot to raucous cheers, “worst thing you’ve done in a closet. Go —“

Zoro rolls his eyes and takes the shot, foregoing his answer. Nami simply grins, catlike, swirling her own drink around her glass.

“In your wildest dreams, cook,” she says before taking her shot as well. Sanji lets out a contemplative whistle, followed by a good-natured wink.

“Define worst, cause… I mean, I’ve puked in like… most of them back in Syrup Village,” Usopp says. Sanji only chuckles, shrugging.

“We’ll take it, we’ll take it.”

Luffy hums, frowning for a second before smacking a fist into his open palm, grinning, “I took a nap!”

Everyone laughs, helpless and buoyed up by the casual effervescence of a night like this — when the moon is dark and the stars are bright and thin wisps of silver clouds mar the sky like tendrils of lost daydreams, caught on the wrong side of sunset.

When the laughter settles down, everyone turns to you.

You purse your lips, feeling the weight of your answer pressing down on the tip of your tongue — I hid. And I waited. And I tried not to listen.

As the silence stretches on, Zoro leans forward and uncrosses his arms, reaching out to nudge a full shot glass towards you.

“Times up, Princess — drink,” and though there’s nothing soft or even forgiving in his voice, but you feel yourself relax as everyone boos and you take your shot.

The heat of Zoro’s gaze only lingers on your skin for a moment longer before he leans back again, that familiar almost-grin tugging lazily at his lips as he turns half-lidded eyes towards the rest of his crew.

(“Talk to me, Princess.”)

When you find him later, fumbling in the dark of the hallway just outside his room, you kiss him without saying “thank you” and he doesn’t question it when, pressed beneath him on the rough linen of his sheets, you ask to keep the lights on.

03. etymology

Princess — it’s a nice word, Zoro muses to himself. The light pop of the ‘p’ rolling into the warm, round ‘r’, thinning out into the sensual layering of the double ‘s’s, till you’re left with nothing but a hiss, a shadow, a memory.

It’s a regal word; a pretty word. Though its origins might be anything but.

From the Latin primus “first” and cept “catcher”, or so Robin had told him over the pages of an ancient book he hadn’t bothered to ask the name of, because Princes and Kings have always obtained their powers through taking, and never asking. Reaping, and never sowing.

Zoro thinks then that this, too, is a form conquest — you over him. The totality of your power stunning to behold, if only because he has to let you take it in the first place. And he does so willingly.

He wonders if you, too, are as multifaceted as his nickname for you — delicacy and desire wrapped around a darker something, lace laid over a knife’s unforgiving edge.

The first time he dares to kiss you, he feels you kissing him back, the sharp canines of your teeth catching on his lower lip, drawing out a soft grunt from him. You’d paused, and then you’d bitten down harder just to hear him gasp into your mouth.

He knew then, without ever having to ask, that you are.

04. tip of the iceberg

It is winter when they arrive — but then again, it is always winter here. Here, the cold runs so deep it drives frost crystals into the marrow of your bones. Here, the wind howls like a wounded animal and the night falls with a savage, carnal vengeance, all black velvet and a blood-tinted moon.

Here, the snow storms turn living, breathing heroes into song lyrics and poetry rhymes.

You inhale a single breath before turning and heading back below deck.

Zoro frowns, and at a single look from Luffy, he follows you beneath, only to find you rummaging around the kitchen, tugging a bottle of moonshine out from under the sink.

“Whoa,” Zoro says, reaching out to stop you from uncorking the bottle, an eyebrow raised. He doesn’t miss the way you shiver, “bit early, isn’t it?”

“Bit rich, coming from you,” you snap, eyes sharp, voice stinging.

Zoro only cocks his other eyebrow in tandem and pulls the bottle from your hands before turning and grabbing two glasses from the cupboard. He takes his time filling them both with ice, and then pouring a finger into each glass.

You don’t meet his eyes as you reach out for your glass, but he catches your wrist.

“A drink for an answer,” he says.

You pause, your lips pressed into a thin, white line. And he knows it’s unfair, to turn this game around on you, because he can tell from the hard set of your shoulders that this is so much more than a drinking game but if this is what it takes to get the truth — then so be it.

“Fine,” you say, glancing away, voice clipped.

You move to take a sip, but Zoro pushes down your hand again.

“No lying.”

You scoff, narrowing your eyes, “Obviously.”

He eases off, picking up his own glass and clinking it against yours before taking a light swig, “You know this place.”

This time, you’re the one who turns around with a cocked brow.

“Got a question in there somewhere?”

Zoro’s lips twitch, “Yes, or no.”

You sigh, tapping a finger against the edge of your cup, “Yes.”

Zoro hums, “Your turn.”

You chew on your lips before taking a sip, “Why do you care so much?”

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth, “Stupid question. Next.”

You huff, “That’s not how this game goes.”

Zoro swirls his glass before setting it down on the counter with a loud clack, “Because I care about you.”

You pause with your own drink halfway to your mouth and look up. Zoro doesn’t shy away from meeting your gaze and for a moment, time statics to a halt around you.

Then, Zoro sighs, unclenching his jaw as he attempts a lopsided smile.

“Hey, talk to me,” he reaches out to trail a finger along the high of your cheekbones, up to the shell of your ear.

The ‘please’ hangs silent in the air between you; the ‘Princess’ is implied.

And for the first time, he thinks he sees you flinch. He makes to pull back but you tug his hand forward, pressing your cheek against his palm.

“This island,” you say, finally, the tremor in your voice like a hairline fracture snaking through a porcelain vase, “it’s… well, it used to be… my home.”

05. the secret history

It is the most beautiful place any of them have ever been.

The castle is made entirely of ice, the cold winter sun refracting the light into a million and one unseen colors. Giant ice-carved sculptures dot the crystal-flower gardens, and it takes them all a few minutes to realize that the gorgeous, delicate blooms are made of glass, blown and shaped to mirror real-life snowflakes — each unique, glittering, and eternal.

“Dude… how long do you think all this took to make?” Usopp asks, his head turning as if on a swivel, his jaw hinging off his face in awe.

Robin sighs, “Too long, perhaps.”

Zoro stays quiet, and beside him, so does Nami.

You’d insisted on staying back, to guard the ship, you’d said. But the space you usually fill in the group hangs solid in the air, a gaping hole of lack when there should be none.

Luffy hums and he marches out in front of them, ever the dubious, fearless leader. Though most of the crew has now come to terms with the fact that “courage” and “sheer bull-headedness” are often two sides of the same coin for him.

It’s Sanji who pauses first, causing Chopper to ram into the back of his knees.

“Ouch! What’dyou do that f —”

“Look,” Sanji says, pointing at a poster pasted to the slick outer wall of the castle gates.

And they do, leaning in, crowding too close. Zoro grunts as Chopper jumps and scrambles up his back to peer over his shoulder at the face plastered on the dew-soaked poster, the words LOST PRINCESS: 120,000,000 FOR ANY INFORMATION THAT LEADS TO HER WHEREABOUTS printed in giant, familiar block letters along the bottom.

Beside him, Zoro can feel Nami swallowing. Hard.

“A hundred and twenty million berry…” she murmurs, her breath going shallow as they all stare, dumbfounded at the poster of what is unmistakably you.

You, with your exquisite features schooled into something like solemnity, your usually wind-swept hair twisted up into a tight braid across the crown of your head, a diadem of ice-white silver and light-cut jewels jutting up from your severe updo like so many broken teeth, sharp and unforgiving as stalagmites.

If none of them had known, it’d be impossible to reconcile you with this cold, distant portrait, your eyes rendered lifeless and dull by the depthless black ink.

Luffy, however, only blinks and turns to stare at Zoro.

“Did you know?”

“What?”

Luffy continues to stare, “When I asked why you always call her ‘Princess’.”

Zoro sighs, turning his eyes back to the WANTED poster before shaking his head.

“No. Like I said… I thought it just… fit.”

06. eternal day

Zoro is itching to get back to the ship. There’s a fish-line sliver of worry tugging at the place behind his chest where his heart should be, and he knows implicitly that something is wrong.

“Don’t worry, she can take care of herself!” Luffy says, smiling bright, his confidence unwavering.

“No Luffy, Zoro’s right — someone should be with her. What if —” and here, Nami glances at Zoro before turning her attention back to Luffy, “— she might need the backup,” is what she finally settles with. And to Zoro’s great relief, Luffy agrees.

And then, to everyone’s horror, off in the distance, your voice rises over the wind in a blood-curdling scream.

07. endless night

By the time Zoro makes it back to the ship, you are already gone.

08. torn asunder

Gone, gone, gone. The word echoes like an ill-fated alarm bell, ringing through Zoro’s entire body as he catapults himself through the ship, slamming open every door, checking every nook, corner, and crevice. Signs of a struggle, that much is clear, scuffs on the freshly waxed planks of the aft deck, nail marks along the railings, and —

Zoro’s breath freezes in his chest.

A smear of blood that drips over the side of the ship, trailing down the ladder.

A flash of pale pink catches his eye.

Your satin hair ribbon lies abandoned on the wharfs’ boardwalk, the faintest splatter of red soaking its ends.

He picks it up between gentle fingers and tucks it deep into his pocket.

His vision blurs red as he thinks about the things your captors might’ve done to you before dragging you off. He’s seen you fight and it wouldn’t have been easy to bring you down.

And by the time the rest of the crew reach him, he’s already sprinting back towards the castle, his jaw set, his teeth gritted.

It takes the combined effort of Sanji, Luffy, and Robin to stop him from charging through the castle gates and tearing the whole place down.

“Runnin’ round like a headless chicken’s not gonna do her any good, mate,” Sanji says, a smoke already caught between his teeth. A pre-fight ritual of his.

Zoro jerks his arm out of Sanji’s grasp, stalking down the street with a huff.

Robin strolls after him, somehow keeping pace, looking unhurried as Zoro tamps down the blind urge to slash the entire island in half.

“We’ll find her,” Robin says, her voice level, even as her sharp eyes scan the white-specked horizon, the usually amused half-twist of her lips laid flat by worry, “and she’s stronger than you think.”

At this, Zoro whips around, “I know —” but he bites down the venom threatening to surge up the back of his throat with a sigh. Robin doesn’t flinch, and Zoro attempts a steadying breath before repeating himself in a slightly softer tone, “I know… I’m just…”

Robin nods, and Zoro is thankful that he doesn’t have to finish his sentence.

09. the tower and the throne

The cold greets you like a scorned lover— a spiteful, savage mistress. Tendrils of frost creep along the walls of your old bedroom to caress your cheeks. You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself, sitting on familiar satin sheets.

“Dinner is soon, darling,” your mother’s cool voice calls from outside your bedroom door, “and make yourself presentable — we’ve got guests.”

The sadistic lilt of her voice as she says the word ‘guests’ makes you jerk your head up, staring at the door as if you might be able to bore through the thick wood with nothing but your eyes. And, almost as if she can feel you staring, you hear your mother’s cold, tinkling laughter.

“Hurry now… I had your favorite dress put out for you. It should still fit — and we don’t want to keep them… waiting.”

The slow, sanguine pause before her last word makes you want to rip out your hair and scream into the wind till your voice gives out.

Instead, you push yourself up and reach for the dress laid out at the foot of your bed with shaking fingers.

The dress fits you like a second skin, the delicate lace trim barely sweeping the floor as you adjust the bodice, grimacing at your reflection in the large, floor-length mirror. It is as if the last ten months had never happened, as if you’d never escaped this terrifying hellscape of a winter wonderland. As if you’d simply dreamed every single sun-filled afternoon, every star-strewn night spent laughing and singing amongst your new-found crew.

Here, in the fragile glass reflection, you are once again a girl trapped behind her own ribcage, with a destiny carved into stone and ice, with no hope of summer in sight. You take a long breath and tighten the ribbons of your dress.

You are still and silent as the maid slips in through the door after a single knock and begins to twist up your hair. Tighter and tighter, till it sets your teeth on edge. When she pins the crown in place, it takes everything inside you not to fall apart, to shatter at the weight, the sight of it sitting on your head. You swallow as the maid dips her head and backs out of the room with a murmured dinner is served, Princess.

For the first time, you wince openly at her words.

10. waiting for the rain

The hall is just how you remembered it, huge and cavernous, gaping like the empty maw of some petrified monster, the ceiling hanging with so many cold, sparkling chandeliers, ice-carved statues jutting up from the floors like teeth.

You’re marched in like a show animal, the great marble doors swinging open before you as you step forward and feel your breath freeze in your chest.

There, strung up on a massive statue of some long-forgotten saint, is Zoro, cuts and bruises marring his already scarred and puckered torso. But he smirks as he sees you come in, his eyes bright as he spits a mouthful of blood onto the seemingly endless white floors. Around him, the rest of your crew sits, tied and slumped over in chairs like so many sleeping mannequins.

“Hey there, Princess. Just in time for dinner.”

You nearly wince at the raspiness in his voice, the faint trickle of blood that leaks out the corner of his mouth.

“Silence,” your father’s voice echoes out from the high-backed chair at the head of the ludicrously long table. You don’t have to see to know his face is as smooth as just-applied plaster. But Zoro only has eyes for you — and he continues to talk as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“If you’d told us we’d be welcomed like this, we might’ve packed differently.”

You bite down on your bottom lip so hard you almost taste the metallic tang of blood.

“Our daughter has always been a skillful liar — though it’s a habit we tried to… rid her of in her youth. The lesson never seemed to have stuck.” Your mother this time. And now, you can see the muscle ticking in Zoro’s jaw as he scoffs.

“Really? And here I always thought she was shit at lying.”

You swallow down a whimper as the maid wordlessly leads you to the far end of the table, where Zoro is still tied. You drop into the seat between a snoring Luffy and an eerily still Nami, and it’s all you can do not to turn around and retch onto the silk embroidered rug.

“Be that as it may…” your mother’s voice drops a few degrees — an admirable feat, as her voice is usually just on the other side of frigid, “it’s bad luck to kill on the eve of a royal wedding.”

At this, Zoro’s head snaps around and you shrink back in your chair, your eyes fixed on your fists, clenched in your lap.

“Mother,” you grind out, finally forcing your head up so as to meet her piercing, blizzard-bright gaze, “I’ve told you, I’ve no intention of getting married. At least not to the mongrel you’ve decided to set me up with.”

You spit out the last sentence, trying to remember all the snark, all the confidence that’d built up inside you over the past weeks and months. Away from this dreaded castle and on the sun-soaked bow of the Going Merry, it was the first time you’d begun to discover who you are — the things you liked, the ways of life that you yearned for.

Your father slams a hand on the table at the same moment that Zoro lets out a bark of laughter.

“Insolence!”

“Damn, Princess — you never told me you could bite.”

And, to your horror and perhaps deep-seated pleasure, a blush works its way into your cheeks at Zoro’s words. Your eyes snap towards him, catching his gaze as he smirks at you. And even though his shirt is slashed, his sword hilts hanging woefully empty at this hip, his hands twisted painfully behind him on the statue, he still manages an easy, condescending air.

You seize at this tiny tendril of normalcy as you force a wane smile.

“I might be persuaded to do more than that… if you ask nicely.”

Zoro’s snicker is drowned out by your mother’s sharp gasp. But you don’t look away, holding Zoro’s gaze for as long as you dare — in it, you find an entire abyss of barely concealed rage (and is that… amusement?), his entire body straining against the shackles that hold him. Then, his eyes slip from you to a point just over your shoulder.

It’s then that you realize: Luffy’s not snoring anymore.

11. to reap and to sow

You’re never quite certain of how the Merry’s crew seems to always just wriggle out of frankly gruesome and untimely deaths, but here you are, racing for the docks like your lives depended on it. Because, well, it kind of does.

“Remind me —” you shout between pants, one hand clutched firmly in Zoro’s, the other doing its best to lift the ridiculous dinner dress they’d put you in — a confection of lace and tulle, the bodice laced with pale pink satin ribbon, “how the hell did you guys manage to trick my parents into thinking you’d eaten the spiked food?”

Sanji flashes you a toothy grin, “Ah love… you know how it is — ask us no questions, and we’ll tell you no lies!”

Luffy, however, whoops as he launches himself from a pair of solid brick buildings, catapulting himself over your sprinting crew.

“We just — pretended to eat! I mean — I did kinda actually eat a bit — but — it wasn’t that bad!”

You resist the urge to pinch your nose bridge at the nonchalance with which Luffy is talking about consuming poisoned food, but you’ve only got two hands and both are equally occupied at the moment. You settle for an exasperated sigh.

“That was — really stupid! — What if — they’d — poisoned the food — with something — other than — sleeping medicine?!” you ask, forcing air into your lungs as finally, you all round the bend onto the bustling pier, the Going Merry’s unmistakable shape silhouetted against the misty horizon.

“We can talk when — we’re all back — on the ship!” Nami calls as she sprints passed you, reaching out a hand for Luffy, who’s elongated arm grabs her and slings her onto the deck of the ship. You barely have a second to breathe before Zoro’s arm loops around your waist and you’re being pulled tight into his side.

His breath is hot against your collarbone as he smirks, “Hold on tight, Princess.”

It’s all you can do to listen as you’re suddenly whipped through the air like a doll on a drunken marionette’s string. A bright peal of Luffy-tinted laughter later, you thud onto the deck of the Going Merry, the breath knocked clean from your lungs as the world spins and spins. You’d expected to hit solid wood, or maybe even the railing or the mast but —

Zoro groans beneath you, and it takes you a long second to realize that he’d cushioned your fall, your bodies pressed chest to chest, hip to hip, your arms still wrapped around his shoulders, his still steady around your waist.

“O-oh! Sorry —” you try to pull away but Zoro’s grip on you only tightens.

You freeze as he blinks up at you, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Crown’s crooked,” Zoro finally says, that tell-tale smirk twisting the edge of his lips as his gaze flickers upwards. Your hand jumps to the crown, somehow still clipped into your now disheveled hair, lopping to one side as the braids start to come loose. You purse your lips.

“I never liked it anyway…” You make to tug it out but Zoro reaches up to right it, though he lets his hand linger as he falls along the side of your face.

��Nah, looks good on you.” His voice is so low, and suddenly, air is such a language that you’re certain you’d forgotten how to speak. Slowly, he pushes up till you’re both sitting, you still pressed against him and him still pressed against you. Distantly, you can hear shouting, Usopp’s voice raised high over the wind as the Merry careens out of port and towards the open sea.

But strangely, no one makes to pull you away from him, or him from you.

“I should’ve told you guys…” you say, eyes casting down as you rest your palms against his chest. Beneath it, you can feel his heart — pounding, pounding, pounding. There’s a light sheen of sweat glimmering on his honeyed skin as you swallow, looking back up even as he chuckles.

“Sure, but we should’ve asked.”

You bite your lips, “I think you did.”

Zoro grins, shrugging as he helps you up, somehow managing to keep his arm slipped around your waist.

“Well. Should’ve asked better, then.”

12. lost stars

It takes you a while to tell them the story — the real story, the whole story. And there’s drinking involved, but it’s mostly just you clutching at your half-filled glass, Zoro’s knee pressed comfortingly against yours, even though his eyes are closed, his head leaned back, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

You tell them about the dark underbelly of royalty that everyone knows but no one wants to talk about — the blood and teeth beneath the silk and silver. You tell them about being raised a bargaining chip, of being sold and promised like a prized heifer on auction day.

You tell them about the moonless nights when the only thing you had to keep you company was the cold, about the “lessons” your mother would teach you, about how the maids would be instructed to hide the bruises just so, about the Prince who you were set to marry and the rumors that plagued his castle —

“They say that he’d take the prettiest girls from the surrounding town as his maids and that none of them ever walked out of his castle again,” you say. The moonshine burns on its way down your throat as you finish your drink.

Wordlessly, Zoro reaches over to pluck the glass from your hand and set it on the table. It’s only then that you realize your fingers are white and trembling.

“Did he hurt you?”

Zoro’s voice is not loud, but everyone turns to look at him. You shake your head, clasping your hands in your lap.

“No. I only ever… met him once, at a dinner party. It was after that that I… ran away.”

Zoro hums, leaning back again, “Good.”

Across the room, Sanji blows out a series of smoke rings and frowns.

“Were you about to offer to hunt him down?” Robin asks, sounding amused.

Zoro shrugs, “Wouldn’t have offered — would’ve just done it.”

“He sounds like the kinda guy we should hunt down anyway, no?” Luffy asks, cocking his head as he looks back at you, “I mean, I’m glad he never hurt you but… he’s still hurting people!”

“Luffy’s got a point,” Sanji says, stubbing out his cigarette.

“For once, I agree with Sanji,” Nami says.

There’s a light squabble during which Sanji makes an aggrieved noise and Nami rolls her eyes, and then everyone is laughing and chatting and more drinks are being poured. Next to you, Zoro reaches out to wrap his arm around your waist again. It’s something he’s been doing more lately, and you can’t honestly say that you mind it much at all.

“We don’t have to,” he says, leaning forward, almost as if to brush his lips by your ear, “if… if you don’t want to.”

You shiver at the base rumble of his voice, at the way his eyes are so warm and full of some uncertain promise.

“No, I… I do want to. It’s just…”

Zoro’s fingers trace small, absent-minded circles into the skin of your waist and you fight down another shiver.

“I don’t plan on letting you get kidnapped again, Princess.”

Your gaze snaps up to meet Zoro’s, and there’s a faint smile kissing the line of his lips. And suddenly, the lightness of his touch doesn’t feel so thoughtless as heat curls out from the place where his palm meets your skin, radiating out till you’re breathless with it.

“Oh?”

“Never liked people trying to take what’s mine.”

And the dark possessiveness with which he says mine leaves little room for interpretation, even as you lick your lips and try to think of something witty to say.

“I don’t remember agreeing to be yours.”

It’s the best you can come up with; Zoro’s only response is a soft, contemplative grunt.

“What’s that saying? ‘Actions speak louder than words’?” he flashes you a satisfied grin as you narrow your eyes at him, swatting at his chest as he laughs.

“I meant it though,” he says, a moment later, as the rest of the crew all chatter around you, “about calling it off if you don’t want to. But…” he reaches up a free hand to tug a strand of your hair free from the ponytail it’s tied up in.

“Figured you might sleep better at night knowing he’s gone.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding, your whole body softening as you lean into him, pressing your palms to his chest as he looks at you.

“Yeah… I think I might. And… like you said… it’s not like I’m gonna get kidnapped again.”

You smile, letting your eyes flicker down to Zoro’s lips. His smile is pleased and just a little jagged as he tugs you up by the hand and the pair of you slip from the room.

Above deck, the sun is setting, and the warm, slanted light casts the entire ship in a glaze of gold that looks almost gilded. You lean against the railings, closing your eyes and letting the warmth of the sun seep into your skin, chasing away the chill that’d been lingering at your fingertips since you’d all made your spectacular escape from your home island.

You feel rather than hear Zoro join you. You take your time breathing in the salty tang of the humid sea air before opening your eyes and slating him a side-long look.

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

“For coming after me.”

Zoro scoffs, turning away from the roiling waves to lean back against the railings, his head cocked as he looks you over.

“Like I said… I don’t like it when people try to take what’s mine.”

But this time, you laugh, nodding, “So you’ve said. But still… thanks.”

“Hn.”

Zoro closes his eyes, seemingly enjoying the last vestiges of the setting sun as it sinks ever-lower along the horizon. Then, he opens one eye to peer at you.

“Though I’ve been meaning to ask —”

“Hm?”

“What’s this about doing more than biting… if asked about it nicely enough?”

You try to duck your head but Zoro catches your chin in his fingers.

“I — I just… knew it would piss off my mother if she —”

“Mm, sounded like more than that to me.”

Your breath hitches as Zoro’s thumb traces a rough line along your bottom lip.

“How about… I show you?” and the offer is barely out of your mouth before Zoro is kissing you, his mouth seeking out yours with a soft groan that betrays all the lightness in his touch as he trails his free hand down your arm to pull hard at your waist.

And it’s not the first time you’ve kissed. It’s not even the first time a kiss with Zoro has become more than just a kiss, though you’d always been careful before to make sure that he knew (though thinking back, it might’ve just been an ill-fated attempt at lying to yourself) that the pleasure shared between bodies was just that — pleasure and bodies.

But this — this kiss becomes, and becomes.

It becomes breath and heartbeats, pleasure and heat. It becomes truth and promises and the tantalizing taste of fairy-tale endings.

“Z-Zoro…”

“Yes Princess?”

You hiss as his teeth grazes along your pulse point and your fingers fist in his hair.

“Y’know…” your voice comes out as nothing more than a soft pant as Zoro tugs you over to one of the reclining chairs beneath the orange trees and pulls you over his hips, “I’ve never liked being called that but…”

“But?” his thumbs inch beneath the material of your shirt, circling your hipbones as he smirks up at you.

“I don’t mind it when it’s you.”

Zoro’s grin goes wide and wolfish. Above him, the first stars spark into being as the sun finally sinks beyond the far horizon. For a second, his smile softens as he reaches up to toy with the end of the pale pink ribbon in your hair. Then, he gives it a single, solid tug, and your hair falls open around your shoulders, tumbling down in waves.

Zoro leans up to press a light kiss to the blood-stained satin before letting it flutter off in the wind, twisting into the rapidly darkening night.

“Good… cause I ain’t about to let anyone else call you that either.”

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sysig · 10 months ago

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Is torial and asgore still together in the fell!handplates au? Is that the divergence from Canon? that instead of torial disagreeing with asgore about war and leaving she instead agreed and encouraged vengeance for their children?

If that is the case who do you think ends up living in the ruins? I know what probably happened with gaster but if he chooses to leave with the boys would he live In the ruins as an escape?

Haha, that was what I thought as well! I don't really know much about fanon-agreed-upon Fellplates tbqh, but when it came up in conversation, we talked about how since they're both on the same page vis a vis killing humans, they probably would still be together haha - or that Toriel still lives in the Ruins and only comes out to beat up Gaster lol

Personally I like her being in the castle with Asgore, murder power couple <3 And she'd have very direct access to bully Gaster! I see this as an absolute win

I'm not sure, Gaster escaping with the boys isn't something I'd considered before :0 I think the Ghosts definitely still hang around the Ruins, so I don't know how dangerous it would be for them to live there if they were hostile. There's also something? weird? about Fell!Mercyplates that I can't quite put my finger on haha

And remember, this is still Zarla's AU! I just it like a bunch ♥

#UT #Handplates #Fellplates #Fellplates!Ghoster's dialogue about Toriel really makes it seem like her treatment of him is recent doesn't it ♪#That's what lead me to that conclusion anyhow :)#I'm still something of a sap even in this intentionally edgy set of circumstances lol - I like when they're all together!#Even if sometimes that means Certain Somebodies are being tossed around lol #I also think that if anyone would have the ability to move between the Ruins and the rest of the Underground it would be Toriel #Basically calls dibs on it lol #As long as whatever makes the exit impassable stays in her control I think she'd make the most sense to have it #I think it's at least implied to be magic? Like not just a key or other similar object #And Gaster couldn't break into it when Toriel disappeared so *shrug*#I suppose I could see him trying to make a mad dash for the Ruins but I don't think he'd actually be any safer there than anywhere else #If that was something he even thought to do or wanted to do haha #I dunno! I kinda just like him following the same self-destructive path he's always been on ♫#Which involves him being the worst hehe <3

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bi-writes · 11 months ago

Text

huhhhhh more bestfriend!roommate!simon x fem!reader because i want them to touch

more bestfriend!roommate!simon (part 4/?)

cw: nsfw (18+), suggestive language and content, mature language and content, kissing over the mask, simon "my girl cums first" riley, fem!receiving touching, praise kink, size kink, simon's thicc thighs need a warning, simon "the mask doesn't come off" riley

simon had a bad habit.

a nose-scrunching habit, a oddly pretty habit, a clouding habit.

you shut the door behind you, locking it. you dropped your keys by the door, slipping your sneakers off and hanging your jacket up. you had the day shift today, so simon let you walk home on your own. but he didn't know when you were coming home, and you suspect that's why he was outside on the balcony, a cigarette between his index and middle finger as he leaned against the wall.

you come up to the sliding door, narrowing your eyes before knocking on the glass. simon didn't move immediately, but you saw him turn his face away, tossing the cigarette onto the floor and stubbing it out with the toe of his combat boot. when he turned to look at you, his mask was on, and there was a little apprehension in those dark eyes.

you gripped the handle of the door, sliding it open. he moved to stand in front of you, taking up the entirety of the doorway, broad shoulders taking up the width of the space.

"luv--"

"shut the fuck up, simon," you snapped. you reached over and gripped the front of his hoodie, yanking him inside. he had to maneuver his shoulders to slip inside, and you brought him right up against you so you could glare right up at him. "you know, it's one thing to come back from your boys' nights smelling like it, but in our home?! simon! how many times do i have to tell you that those things will kill you?!"

he sighed, shaking his head a little.

"trust me, luv," he murmured. "this isn't what'll kill me."

"you shut up," you reached up and gripped his masked chin, forcing his eyes on yours. your eyes were a little watery, and your bottom lip trembled. "don't say things like that. don't you dare."

the air was a little stiff. simon was a bit ashamed, averting his gaze. you leaned up and put both hands on his cheeks, putting his eyes on yours again.

"look at me, simon," you said lowly. "i...i cant tell you what to do. i'm not your mother. but i don't like it. its not good for you. i..." you looked down. "i'm sorry. i'm not trying to...i'm not trying to control you, i just--"

"its alright, luv," he quieted you. "it's alright, i know."

you sighed, dropping your hands to rest on his chest. your splayed your palms there, feeling the warmth of him. you held back a smile when you noticed him puffing out his chest a bit, flexing the muscles under your palms as you pressed against solid flesh.

"big, bad lieutenant riley..." you hummed lowly. "nothing can kill you, is that it?"

simon narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side as he grunted.

"dunno what'll kill me, luv, but it won't be a bloody smoke."

you smiled wide finally, your eyes sparkling as you looked towards the kitchen.

"what do you want for dinner, simon? did you go shopping like i asked?"

"'f course i did," he said quickly, his tone nearly offended for even a hint that he you had doubted that he would do ask you asked. you let go of him, making your way to the kitchen. simon let his eyes wander. you were still wearing your uniform from the diner, pretty white and red stripes in the most adorable dress he'd ever seen. he'd curse the man who'd made you wear it the day he saw it the first time; his gaze that couldn't help but follow the valley of your breasts, the way the skirt fell over the curve of your ass--he felt like a teenager fawning over something so trivial about you, so physical and seemingly superficial, but you looked fantastic in it. his beautiful girl, the one he had known since she was only 17, how she grew and blossomed and before he knew, there was no other woman who could take up as much space in his mind as you.

simon had been to many dark places. the dark edges of torture, the narrow walls of being cornered by an enemy, the hot places where hell was just right over the cliff--he was a machine of order and sheer will, he had killed the parts of himself that never quite suited him for war, but somehow, this place with you stayed the same. it was the one constant he knew, the one constant that just never, ever changed, and for that, he was grateful.

you don't think simon riley believes in god. but he believes in you.

simon had been around the world. he had seen the worst of humanity, ripped his own right out of his chest, but none of it mattered as he sat down on the couch he had picked out with you. he remembered when you sent him the pictures of it, your voice on the other line of the phone as you told him how much you liked the pieces. he had been on deployment, and while he could care fuck all about what color the couch in your shared living room was, it was important to you so it was important to him.

"simon?"

your voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"simon, could you open that bottle of wine? i need it for the stew."

domestic. fuck, this was too domestic, it was simple, it was calm. simon never flinched, not even when a bullet would hit the wall by his head, but fuck, the sight of you stirring vegetables in a pot in the kitchen of your shared apartment was making his head spin.

simon riley never missed his target. he set his sights on what he wanted, and with the ease and practice of a lieutenant, he crossed another name off his list.

and one could say that his pretty, little roommate, the woman who had been there before the scars and loved him even after them, was another target. your figure was in his sight, but fuck, his hand was shaking.

when the pot was simmering, you poured yourself a glass of wine and came towards him on the couch. simon was sitting, legs spread a little wide, his hands on his thighs as his eyes were fixed on the low hum of the television. you took a seat beside him after setting aside your glass, putting your feet up underneath you and leaning up against his arm.

"simon? everything alright?"

he turned to face you. a low shadow hung over his face, the hood of his jacket making his face appear even darker despite the mask he wore. you reached over under the hood and brushed a few strands of his hair off his forehead, tracing a small scar against his hairline. you smiled at him, running your knuckles down his temple. in the low light, you could barely see even his eyes, but simon spoke so much with just his eyes. they were beautiful. they were alive, had so much emotion, and you wondered always if maybe simon had learned to speak with them knowing it was the only part of him truly visible.

you lowered your gaze as he pressed his forehead to yours. his skin was warm, and you put a hand on his thigh to steady yourself. you swallowed, noticing how much smaller your hand looked next to his. he wore gloves, like always, but it didn't hide the size of him.

lieutenant simon riley. your simon. built like a fucking bear, a mind of impenetrable steel, eyes that had seen the nine circles of hell and wouldn't spill any of their secrets, simon riley who died and a ghost who brought him back and the woman that he dreamed about when they had taken everything from him except his goddamn memories--

he was kissing you. not in the way other men had kissed you, but in the way that simon riley would kiss you. the front of his mask met your lips, a touch of fabric that was warm and soft and melted your insides with a thousand unspoken words. he whispered your name against your lips, a quiet thing that felt like prayer. and maybe it was a sort of prayer, one that only he could make real, one that only he could make sound like faith and all the ugly, sorry truths that it brought with it.

but there was nothing ugly about this kind of prayer. it held no malice. it was pretty and soft and the only kind of word that ever brought him memories and not nightmares.

you were the one to press your lips to his. even through the fabric, it was like kissing someone for the first time. but not just anyone, simon. simon--simon who kissed your tears when you got stood up at a school dance. simon who promised into your hair that he would come back when you discovered the letters about his deployment overseas. simon who beat the manager at the first bar you ever worked at for following you home one night after your shift. simon who died when his family did and then came back, but only within the walls of your shared apartment and nowhere else.

simon, simon, simon--

his hand was under your dress. one gloved palm slipped up the back of your skirt, caressing one side of your ass as he guided you into his lap.

"simon--"

you choked on his name when you felt bare fingers slide over the edge of your panties. you reached up and cupped both sides of his face, whining as he moved his fingers under the fabric. your cunt was wet and glossy, and he pressed his face into the palm of your hand when he realized just how much time he had wasted being anything other than yours. and he had always been yours, but fuck, why hadn't he ever told you?

"youre so pretty, luv..." he smoothed his other hand up your back, tangling his fingers in your hair and tugging just enough to make you moan. "so pretty...so bloody wet...have you always been like this?"

you nod, unable to speak. his fingers spread your puffy folds apart, a soft wet sound that makes you cry. you want him to put those fingers inside of you, to make you ride his hand until you see nothing but white, but you just cant seem to form any words.

"oh, luv...youre a bloody mess..." he chuckled a bit. "fuckin' hell...let me see you--"

he picked up the skirt of your dress, his dark eyes flickering down. he cursed his breath, fisting the lace of your panties and ripping them right off. you whimpered as he tossed them onto the floor.

"christ, luv, can't believe i ever let this cunt be with another man. look at ya. it's fuckin' christmas mornin', aye?"

"you hate christmas--"

"dunno. could be more inclined if i got to have you in the mornin'."

"fuck you--"

"not yet, sweetheart."

simon never really thought you were much of a singer. but the crying and the begging and the moaning was music--and he was learning how to play you just right.

fingers teasing your cunt, he can feel the way your body aches for something more--something big and eager and warm, something that needs you badly, but fuck--you're so pretty with his name in your mouth and your cum on his fingers.

mine, mine, mine--

he grunted when you gripped his wrist, steadying his fingers enough so you could sink down on them. he groaned lowly, watching you tilt your head back and ride his fingers. sinking those gorgeous hips down again and again, putting his hand to use in a way that felt wrong up until now. fuck holding a sniper rifle and putting bad men to sleep--his hand was made to please you, that much was clear to him now.

you were so tight. grinding slow against him, dripping down his fingers, crying out when his thumb moved a gentle circle over your clit and his fingers slipped up enough to graze a pretty spot inside of you.

"nnngghhh--simon--"

"that's it, luv...'s it..."

you laid your forehead against his, nodding along to his words but your thoughts were only on the feeling of him. one finger, a second finger, a third--fucking up into you and feeling the squeezing of your soft walls and touching you in every way that made you dizzy and warm and cock-drunk--

"fuck, fuck, fuck--!"

you sobbed against his covered mouth as you came over his hand, a cloud of euphoria and pleasure and the soft thoughts of him that seemed to string together in some wonderful, hazy picture of him. simon was all hard lines, rough edges, the cut of broken glass or the wrong end of a gun, but it never mattered to you.

simon was the beginning and the end, of what, you weren't sure, but he was the beginning of something and definitely the end of it.

his eyes were on yours, dark, beautiful eyes that never lost their gentleness even when they should've been permanently black with his rage. simon was not angry. simon was not bent on revenge or eager to kill or smiling the face of death.

no, simon was in love. simon was so fucking in love.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut

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tvrningout-a · 1 year ago

Text

A LIGHT AMIDST DESPAIR | JJK AU | ft. sato kaiya

trigger warning for mentions/implications of abuse and child death; nothing is ever described in detail; i try to keep everything as vague as possible, but please be careful! be warned that there is some canon-typical violence as well. if you'd prefer to get right into verse specifics, you can skip the prologue <3

prologue:

another universe yet a similar story, again kaiya finds herself struggling to support her mother after an accident steals her father from them. again she finds herself in a loveless marriage, and again she finds herself at the end of her rope one night, but rather than a meeting a demon, the young woman encounters someone else entirely.

it's pouring rain when she spots what appears to be a child crouched beneath a tree in her backyard, and of course kaiya rushes over to check on him, ushering him into the safety of the engawa. he looks terribly pale to the point of looking blue; she would have left to fetch the boy blankets and hot tea, but he clutches at her hand so desperately, cries for her to stay. without another thought, kaiya gathers him in her arms and holds him.

then her husband steps outside, sees her hugging nothing but air, and accuses her of finally losing it. kaiya pushes back, insists that the boy is there -- how can her husband not see him? and as matters escalate, kaiya realizes they are engulfed in rain again, the cold digging into her skin like a million little daggers that hurt worse than the stinging of her cheek. she turns to look at the boy. isamu.

where once a frail boy sat, now stands a mass of blue muscle and bared teeth in his place. kaiya's blood runs cold. it's happening again.

Y҉O҉U҉ ҉W҉I҉L҉L҉ ҉N҉O҉T҉ ҉T҉O҉U҉C҉H҉ ҉M҉O҉T҉H҉E҉R҉.҉

isamu seems to move in the blink of an eye, a massive fist decimating the man in one blow. blood splatters against her face. someone screams -- she screams, she thinks. and as isamu turns his glowing eyes to her, kaiya screams again, stumbling and falling backwards and crawling to get away, far as she can. she curls herself into a ball, weeping and knowing that despite all the suffering, despite all of her effort to keep going and make something good, she is going to die here.

" mother? what's wrong? the bad man is gone, mother-- " he sounds like the little boy again, small and fragile, but still kaiya flinches as his cold hand touches her shoulder. his voice grows thick with upset. " are you mad at me? did i do something wrong? why won't you look at me? "

" you killed him! " she wails. isamu cries with her.

" he hurt mother! he always hurts mother, but i wouldn't let him this time! " isamu sobs and curls tiny fists into the sleeve of her yukata, tugging at her arm until kaiya finally looks up. she stares at the boy's tear-streaked face as his words sink in. i wouldn't let him this time. "i'm sorry, please--- please, don't leave me again! i only wanted to help mother! "

he's different from the thing that killed her father, kaiya realizes, having only wanted to keep her safe from someone who hurt her. despite his oni-like form earlier, isamu seems human as he cries, begs her to not be mad, begs her to not leave him ( it tears into her heart, creating an ache that almost feels familiar ). kaiya knows it's probably stupid of her -- she hasn't made very many wise decisions lately -- but she reaches out a shaky hand to cradle isamu's cheek, wiping away his tears. slowly, he calms and meets her gaze with blue eyes that oddly match her own.

she can't manage a smile, can't control the tremble in her voice. she's terrified that she's making a mistake, that maybe this thing isn't a child at all, but hope steadies kaiya's hand as she grips one of isamu's tiny fists.

" i won't leave you. i promise. "

verse specifics:

soon after kaiya's chance meeting with isamu and her husband's death, sorcerers come to her small town and apprehend them. kaiya goes willingly to ensure isamu doesn't try to kill anyone and because she ultimately feels responsible for her husband and her father's deaths.

it is obviously debated that she should be killed because of the risk isamu poses, but she is thankfully allowed to live so long as the boy remains obedient and loyal to her -- or in other words, so long as he doesn't kill anyone.

it's discovered that kaiya has an innate technique that draws in curses by bleeding a great amount of cursed energy; she may also cut off her energy entirely, becoming impossible to sense. this is how isamu found her, and it is why a curse attacked her father yet left her alone.

kaiya herself would be considered a lower grade sorcerer if not for isamu. because of him, she is considered somewhere between 1st-special grade. i haven't decided uvu

isamu believes kaiya is his mother who died hundreds of years ago. she, too, was in a bad relationship which she tried to escape, but running away led to both her and isamu's deaths. until he found kaiya, he wandered the countryside as a vengeful cursed spirit, bringing rain with him and attacking anyone who dared to raise a hand against a woman.

kaiya is, in fact, a reincarnation of isamu's mother, and this is discovered after some time at jujutsu high.

isamu most often appears as a child with a ghostly pallor, but he is capable of taking on a much larger form that resembles a blue oni. along with heightened strength and speed, the rain he conjures is imbued with his cursed energy, harming anyone who is caught in the storm.

pre-shibuya, kaiya and isamu live within the walls of jujutsu high; it has been five years since they met, making kaiya 26 in this verse. post-shibuya, kaiya enters the culling games in hopes of helping innocent non-sorcerers caught in the crossfire ( unless otherwise plotted ).

possibly more to be added/edited!!

#a light amidst despair | jujutsu kaisen | kaiya #haha may i just say I HAVE MANY FEELINGS!!#i've had isamu for all of a day but lemme tell you i'd die for him :' )) and so would kaiya :' ))))#and pls know i'm holding my hands out so eagerly for dynamics in this verse #kaiya is such a sunshine lady and so openminded that i feel like you could toss just about anyone at her and she'd go 'friend? friend <3'#anyway i love her and i love isamu and i gotta decide if i have a headcanon in me after writing all this #btw the abilities are a slight wip just bc i dunno how strong i want them to be #part of me is like 'don't make them very strong' but then again isamu is hundreds of years old so he's probably gonna be strong #i'm pretty set on kaiya not being all that strong on her own though -- decent in a fight but definitely no match for stronger opponents #if she's alone #but she's never alone bc isamu is stuck to her like glue :' )#okay i'll stop rambling for real this time ASDFG #headcanons | kaiya

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jarofstyles · 6 months ago

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Could you do one about overstimulating him, like after he’s come you just continue riding him and hes all squirmy and moaning

Is the sky blue? Yes we can 🤭🤭🤭 here’s a little nerdrry

Check out our Patreon

Warnings- overstim, smut, subrry-ish, daddy kink (what a mix), cum play, unprotected sex, completely desperate H

——-

“Fuck- fuck, baby, please…” sweat glued strands of hair to his forehead as Y/N continued to grind in his cock. “Please, I dunno if I can go again so soon.” His mouth was dry and his stomach clenching as the wet confines of her cunt kept his snug inside of her. His glasses falling down his nose, he felt her push them back up as his head tilted against the back of the couch.

His hands gripped her hips, unsure if he wanted to actually stop. It felt so good, so overwhelming as his cum dribbled out of her and down his balls. The blanket they had under them would be ruined, the slushy sound of her lifting up and down shallowly and the hit of her ass against his thighs made his eyes blurry. He knew what to say to get her to stop, if it was really too much, but it felt so delicious that his toes curled and his cock twitched inside of her.

“I’m not done.” She pouted, eyes peering down at him. “God, it feels so good. Got your big cock all the way in my tummy, H. It’s not fair.” One hand kept her upright on him whilst the other pushed his hair back, observing how pretty he was. Such broad shoulders, his button up half undone and skewed to the side. His hair that he kept mostly tamed, a complete mess from her hands. Seeing him so utterly undone by her own hands, her own cunt? She’d never felt better in her life. “Do you really want me to stop? Because I will, baby…”

Harry could feel her grinding on him with each drop down onto his prick. He was aching from it, his thighs tingling but it was too incredible to stop. Digging his fingers into her hips he shook his head, a little whine leaving his throat as his cock twitched pathetically inside of her.

“N-No, baby. No. Don’t stop. It’s jus’ so much.” He slurred, eyes holding as she tilted his head back. “I can’t- it feels amazing n’ I want more, but I feel like M’gonna explode. Baby…. Fuck, you’re so perfect n’amazing and I’ve never-“ he let out a shaky gasp as she bounced harder on his cock. He could feel how wet it was, what a mess they were making. His trousers a heap around his ankles and the taste of the her engrained on his tongue, there hadn’t been much experience before her but he knew he didn’t want anything after her. It was her or nothing. No one else could feel this good. “Baby, angel, my love- oh my god.” He shuddered, the squelch of their sex was loud, her pussy sopping wet with her arousal and the last load he’d given her.

“What, H?” She cooed, panting from the exertion. Seeing him wrecked under her was worth ruining every bit of makeup on her face, the burn her thighs would feel tomorrow, every bit. “You want to cum again? Love my pussy enough to give me another load? You can do it.” The encouragement had his eyes rolling back and her poor used pussy clenching around him. “Tell me, handsome. Fuck into me.” Grabbing his glasses off his face, she tossed them to the other side of the sofa and tugged his hair back with a sharp grip. “Give it to me, Daddy.”

One thing Harry was good at was listening to her. As weak as he felt, he held her hips and let her forehead fall to his own, breathing against her lips. Using his feet on the ground, he began to fuck up into her. It was sloppy and rough, whimpers leaving his mouth as his face contorted in pleasure. “Oh, my love- I can’t…” he gasped into her mouth. Even with her in charge, the nickname had his balls aching. “Fuck me. Please don’t stop, M’gonna cum again and I’m gonna make a mess and I want you to feel good, please baby- I love you, I love this pussy, I wanna cum in it again. Im gonna, please say you want it. Tell me to cum, I’ll give you anything you want.” The smack of skin increased, Y/N’s wet gasp from his cock pummeling up into her making her eyes widen. Harry really would give her anything, the sweet boy. He was all hers, and she wouldn’t be letting go.

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #nerdrry #nerdy!h

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solxamber · 24 days ago

Text

Possessed || Ace Trappola

Something’s going on with Ace. He's being nice which either means he's possessed or has done something extremely illegal. (Spoiler alert: It's neither)

“You’ve been weird,” you say, squinting at Ace from across the cafeteria table. “New levels of weird. Scary kinds of weird. Are you possessed or something?”

Ace just leans back in his chair, balancing it on two legs with that infuriatingly carefree grin plastered across his face. He tosses a piece of bread into his mouth before raising an eyebrow at you, clearly not fazed by your accusation.

“I wish,” he responds with a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes. “Then I could blame all this weirdness on a curse or something and not just... you know, life.”

You cross your arms, not letting him brush it off so easily. “No, seriously. You’re being freaky. You helped me carry books to class the other day. Without asking for a favor in return.”

“Yeah, so?” Ace shrugs, but the slight twitch in his grin gives him away. “Maybe I was feeling generous.”

“Maybe you’re losing it,” you counter, leaning forward. “Since when do you do anything without an ulterior motive? I’m starting to think you’re planning something.”

“Me? Plan?” Ace feigns innocence, one hand over his heart. “You wound me, Prefect. You’re thinking of Azul, not me.”

“Nice deflection,” you deadpan. “But it’s not just that. You haven’t pranked Deuce all week.”

Ace’s smirk falters. “Okay, first of all, Deuce is too easy to prank. It’s like dunking a biscuit into water and calling it an achievement. Second—”

“I heard that!” Deuce calls out from the next table over, turning around to glare at Ace.

“You were supposed to hear that,” Ace shoots back without missing a beat, tossing a crumpled napkin at his friend.

You wave your hand in the air, trying to reel the conversation back in. “See, this is what I mean! You’re off your game! The Ace Trappola I know would be messing with Deuce every chance he got. Not sitting here, being... helpful and nice. You even opened the door for me yesterday.”

Ace looks horrified. “Wait, I did?”

“Yes! And you said something ridiculous like, ‘You can go first.’ It was spooky.”

He seems to visibly recoil, his face scrunching up as if he’s genuinely disturbed by the thought. “Wow. That is scary. Who am I turning into?”

“That’s what I’m saying!” you exclaim, throwing your arms in the air. “You’re possessed!”

He leans in toward you, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Okay, real talk? Maybe I’m evolving.”

“Into what, a decent human being?” you ask, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” Ace rolls his eyes again but leans closer, his expression strangely serious now. “Look, I’m just trying to... I dunno, be more... considerate.”

You squint at him, not buying it for a second. “Why? Who put you up to this?”

Ace huffs, running a hand through his hair, his face growing a little red. “No one put me up to anything, alright? I just thought... maybe you’d like it.”

Your mouth opens, then shuts. You’re not sure what to make of that.

“What?” Ace asks, noticing your bewildered expression. “Cat got your tongue?”

“No, I’m just... processing. You’re being nice because you think I’d like it?”

He shrugs, averting his gaze now. “Yeah, well... you’ve been giving me a hard time lately, so I figured, why not? You know, mix things up. Be nice for a change.”

“Uh-huh.” You narrow your eyes, suspicion creeping back in. “But... why me?”

Ace avoids eye contact, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his collar. “Does it matter? Just... shut up and let me be nice, okay?”

You stare at him for a long moment, trying to figure out what’s going on in that mischievous head of his. Finally, you let out a sigh, leaning back in your chair. “Fine. But I’m still convinced you’re up to something.”

Ace smirks, the cheeky glint returning to his eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Over the next few days, Ace continues acting suspiciously... well, nice. He doesn’t trip you in the hallway or throw random jabs at your study habits like usual. He even brings you snacks during lunch—without eating half of them first.

It’s weird. Unsettling, even.

And every time you ask him about it, he brushes it off with a nonchalant “just felt like it” or “don’t read too much into it, Prefect.” But his little quirks keep poking through. Like when he sneaks up behind you, pretending he’s going to scare you, only to offer a helping hand with your bag. Or when he gives Deuce a hard time, only to turn around and cover for him when he forgets his homework.

Deuce, for his part, seems equally as confused. “Is he dying or something?” Deuce whispers to you one afternoon. “He’s not usually this nice unless he’s pulling something.”

“I know, right?” you whisper back, eyeing Ace from across the courtyard where he’s currently chatting with a group of students. “It’s unnatural.”

“He even let me borrow his notes last night,” Deuce continues, shaking his head. “His good notes, too. Not the ones he scribbled in crayon to mess with me.”

“Okay, now I’m seriously concerned,” you mutter. “He’s definitely plotting something.”

But the more time passes, the less it feels like a trick. There’s no punchline, no grand reveal. Ace is just... being Ace, albeit in a more considerate, slightly awkward way.

One evening, you’re leaving the library when you spot Ace waiting for you outside, leaning against a wall with his usual lazy posture. He looks up as you approach, flashing you a casual grin.

“Yo, Prefect,” he calls out. “Need help with your stuff?”

You raise an eyebrow, adjusting the books in your arms. “Are you really offering, or are you about to ‘accidentally’ trip me again?”

Ace chuckles, pushing off the wall and walking over to take some of the books from you. “What, you don’t trust me by now? I’ve been an absolute angel lately.”

“Yeah, and that’s the problem,” you retort, but you let him take the books anyway. “You’ve been too nice. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Ace smirks, walking beside you as you head toward Ramshackle. “Maybe I’m just growing up. Becoming a responsible, dependable guy.”

You snort. “Now I know you’re lying.”

“Hey!” Ace protests, nudging you with his elbow. “I’m serious. I can be responsible when I want to.”

You side-eye him. “Sure. And pigs can fly.”

Ace rolls his eyes, but there’s a soft smile on his lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Takes one to know one.”

The two of you walk in comfortable silence for a while, the moonlight casting long shadows on the cobblestone path. It’s peaceful, almost... nice.

Then, out of nowhere, Ace speaks again, his tone quieter this time. “So... you really think I’ve been weird lately?”

You glance at him, surprised by the question. “Yeah, kinda. Why?”

He shrugs, looking up at the sky. “I dunno. Just curious.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you seriously still playing this ‘nice guy’ act? What’s your angle, Ace?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he stops walking, turning to face you with an uncharacteristically serious expression.

“There’s no angle,” he says softly. “I just... wanted to see if it’d make a difference.”

You blink, caught off guard by his sudden sincerity. “What do you mean?”

Ace rubs the back of his neck, looking unusually nervous. “I mean... I’ve been trying to... y’know, be a better person. For you.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you’re not sure if it’s because of his words or the fact that he’s actually being vulnerable for once. “For me?”

Ace avoids your gaze, his cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah. I figured... maybe if I stopped being such a jerk all the time, you’d... I dunno... like me more.”

You stare at him, your mind racing to process what he’s saying. “Wait. Are you... confessing to me?”

Ace scowls, clearly embarrassed now. “Ugh, don’t say it like that. You’re making it weird.”

“You’re the one making it weird!” you shoot back, feeling your face heat up. “I didn’t ask you to go all soft on me!”

Ace glares at you, but there’s no real malice behind it. “Well, excuse me for trying to be nice for once.”

There’s a beat of silence as the two of you stand there, staring at each other, before you both start laughing.

“You’re an idiot,” you say, shaking your head.

"Yeah, but you hang out with me anyway," Ace finishes with that signature smirk of his.

You roll your eyes, but there's no denying the truth in his words. There's something about his brash honesty, his ability to keep things light even when they're serious, that you can't help but be drawn to. His quick wit, the way he keeps you on your toes—it's always been part of his charm.

"Maybe I do," you admit, crossing your arms and giving him a playful look. "But you're still a jerk sometimes."

Ace grins wider, stepping a little closer. "Oh, I'm totally a jerk. But I think that's why we work so well. You need someone to challenge you, and I need someone to keep me in check."

You snort. "So that's why you've been weird? Trying to impress me?"

Ace shrugs, his gaze softening just a bit. "Something like that. I just... didn't want you to think I'm always messing around. Sometimes, I actually want to be serious."

It's strange hearing him say that, but in a way, it makes sense. You've always known there was more to Ace than the mischievous, carefree front he puts up. He's clever and observant, and maybe—just maybe—he's been paying attention to you in ways you hadn't realized.

"So, what now?" you ask, feeling the tension between you shift from playful to something a little more... real.

Ace takes a breath, glancing up at the stars for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "I dunno. Guess I was hoping you'd say something like... 'I like you too, Ace.'"

You can't help the smile that tugs at your lips. "And what if I do?"

His eyes widen, just for a second, before his cocky grin returns in full force. "Well, then that'd be great. 'Cause I'd say I like you too, Prefect"

You both stand there for a moment, the air between you charged with something new and exciting. It’s not the usual back-and-forth banter, not the endless teasing. This is real, and Ace’s normally confident posture seems just a little unsure, like he’s still figuring out how to navigate this new territory.

"Alright, fine," you say, your voice softer now. "I like you, Ace."

He blinks, clearly taken aback that you actually said it. For once, he's the one who seems at a loss for words.

"...You serious?" he asks, sounding almost vulnerable. It's a rare thing to hear from him, and it tugs at your heart just a little.

You nod, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "Yeah. I mean, you've been acting all weird and nice, and it kind of freaked me out, but... I get it now. And I like you too."

Ace lets out a relieved breath, his grin softening into something more genuine. "Well, that's good. 'Cause I was starting to run out of ways to be nice. It’s exhausting."

You laugh, the tension finally breaking as the two of you slip back into the ease that’s always existed between you. But now, there's something more. Something deeper.

"So," you start, tilting your head at him, "does this mean you're going to stop being a jerk to me?"

Ace snorts. "Nah, that’s part of my charm. Besides, you’d get bored if I went all soft."

You roll your eyes, but you're smiling. "Fair enough."

Without warning, Ace reaches out and ruffles your hair, grinning like a kid who’s just won a prize. "You know, you're not too bad. Maybe we can make this thing work."

You swat his hand away, laughing. "Maybe. If you stop being so weird."

"Deal," Ace says, though you can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s already planning his next prank.

Deuce, who’s been watching the whole thing from a distance, finally decides to pipe up, calling out to the two of you from the other side of the courtyard. “Hey! Did you guys seriously just confess? In front of me?”

Ace turns around and shouts back, “Yeah, what of it?”

Deuce groans, looking exasperated. “Couldn’t you have waited until I wasn’t around to witness that?”

“You’re just jealous!” Ace calls, slinging an arm around your shoulders with a triumphant grin.

Deuce rolls his eyes but grins anyway. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t go getting all mushy on me.”

Ace laughs, giving you a sidelong glance. “No promises.”

And as you walk back toward the dorms, Ace’s arm still around you, you can’t help but smile. It’s a weird, unexpected kind of happiness, but somehow, it fits. Just like Ace.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #ace trappola x reader #ace x reader #ace trappola #ace trapolla x reader #ace

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