#Women in Realise one piece

[ato-dato]

That’s MISS Booboo the fool to you!!!

[jeniffercheckwannabeme]

[clare-875]

Misplaced Rings (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro)

_____ Pairings: Luffy x Reader; Sanji x Reader; Zoro x Reader Summary: They misplace their wedding ring/band and are sent into a panic. Warnings: Some Angst, Fluff, Female Reader [One Piece Masterlist] _____

- Luffy -

Everyone knows that Luffy's most prized possession is his straw hat. It is always on his head or within his reach wherever he may go, and if it was not, he would be sent into an untamable panic that almost always ended with tears if the hat was not found within the day. However, unbeknownst to most, there is now a second possession he cherishes just as much: his wedding band.

The simple strip of gold around his ring finger adorned with crushed rubies was a fitting wedding band you had picked out just for him. And though Sanji often berates his Captain for wearing such precious jewellery during battles, his concern was for naught; you had sought Franky's help, ensuring the band could survive Luffy's battles and keep up with his elasticity.

Thanks to those facts, the ring remained on Luffy's finger indefinitely, just like the iconic straw hat on his head. It reminded him of his wedding with you upon his ship; the banquet far larger than any he had thrown before, the lively music and laughter, the utter joy. But more importantly, it reminded him of you and your pledge to stay by his side as he became the pirate king; it was an oath you undertook with pride every day of your life.

So, imagine his utter despair when he realises it has gone missing.

You were sitting at the dining room table with Nami and Robin, the three of you chatting and looking over magazines away from the harsh summer sun when you heard a familiar shout. You startle along with the two women you sit beside, meeting glances with utter confusion.

"What was that-"

You barely get to finish your sentence when the door to the kitchen slams open, revealing a wide-eyed Luffy who looks as though he is about to be sick. Your brows furrow together, Sanji looking over from his kitchen and about to give his Captain a piece of his mind, but you are concerned seeing your husband look as though on the brink of rare dread.

"Lu, what's wrong?"

You stand from your chair and run up to him but he already has comical tears almost pouring from his eyes. He is on his knees and instantly grabs your hands, and shakes them in his despair.

"[y/n] it's gone!!!"

You are still lost in your confusion as you look at him, his straw hat still attached to his head. You remember his outbursts in the past when he had thought he lost his hat for good, so you look down at him confounded at why he is having a similar breakdown with it still on his person.

"But Luffy, you still have your straw hat. It's on your head."

Luffy shakes his head like a downtrodden puppy as he looks up to you with tears falling from his eyes.

"No, my wedding band, it's gone!!"

Your eyes widen for just a moment as you look at the hands that still hold yours, noticing for the first time that there remains a tan line where Luffy's wedding band used to be. You feel your heart drop lightly at the predicament, and at that point, your friends had also gathered around in the fuss their Captain seemed to cause. Sanji seemed shocked the most whilst Robin and Nami frowns in concern behind you.

"What?! You lost the wedding ring [y/n]-san especially bought for you?!"

Sanji starts berating Luffy but you can hardly be mad at him when he looks so genuinely upset and in despair on the ground before you. You instantly kneel down to his level, and caress his raven hair gently trying to soothe the turmoil in his eyes. "W-wedding band-" He murmurs, and you are touched by how much he seems to hold the simple piece of jewellery so dear, to the point where he reacts to losing it just as he does his straw hat. You smile gently, and pat the straw hat that remains atop his head.

"It's okay Lu. I'm sure we'll find it."

"W-what if we don't?!"

You sigh as he looks at you imploringly, but you take his hands and help him to his feet.

"We'll all look for it, surely we'll find it then."

You turn to the cook who stands beside you, still glaring at his Captain as though he had committed the worst crime in the world.

"Right, Sanji? You'll help us too right?"

Sanji instantly perks up at the mention of his name past your lips and turns into a puddle of nods and affirmations.

"Of course, [y/n]-swan-"

You sigh at his never changing demeanour but turn to your husband who seems to have collected himself and nods in grim agreement. You smile as you take Luffy's hand, ready to search every nook and cranny of the ship. Nami, Robin and Sanji also help, with Chopper joining in when he bumps into you all searching the ship for a glimpse of gold and red. You force Luffy to retrace his steps entering the rooms he went to the past day for the glimmer of jewellery, but soon hours pass with no sign of his beloved ring.

"W-wedding band-"

You had all returned to the kitchen, Luffy now with his head on the table and tears pouring down it like a river of defeat. Chopper tries to cheer up his Captain but it is for naught, and you pat his shoulder in comfort whilst the others look on sympathetically.

In his mind, Luffy cannot believe that he has lost the one piece of jewellery he thought he would cherish until the day he died. Gold was often a mere bonus to him as a Pirate amongst the sea; an afterthought often intertwined in his adventures on the path to becoming Pirate King. But the gold around his finger was another story.

"I'm sorry Lu, I'll ask Franky if he can make you another one?"

But Luffy seems inconsolable as he is adamant the one he received on his wedding day, was the only one he wanted. However, before you can even input another word, the door smacks open, revealing the very man you had just spoken about. What's more, in his hand, the shine of gold and red reflected from the kitchen lights; Luffy's wedding band.

"Here you go Luffy! Sorry, it took a while but I promise I added some SUUUPER upgrades to keep up with your SUUUPER gears."

For a moment, there lasts a long and lingering silence in the wake of Franky's words, when suddenly, Luffy sits up like he was told the day's weather.

"That's right, I did give it to Franky yesterday."

Everyone falls off their chairs in utter bewilderment at Luffy's words; the day spent searching that could've been solved by one trip to Franky who had been working away all day, or by lack of Luffy's dense memory. Sanji instantly stands back up, kicking the underside of his Captain's head in utter rage and causing his head to hit the table.

"Idiot! We searched the whole day for that damned ring!"

But Luffy seems unfazed, and you have to let out a small laugh as he collects the ring from Franky and puts it back in its rightful place. You don't know if your laughter comes from relief or discomposure at the stupidity of the scenario you were in, but Robin joins you, your other crewmates more agitated. When Luffy looks up to you, however, with his wide and satisfied grin, ring shown proudly on his ring finger you can't help but get up and kiss his cheek lightly.

"I found it!"

He was an idiot, but he was your idiot.

- Sanji -

Sanji adores you, he is utterly in love with you, and if anyone asks what the happiest day of his life is, they don't even need to wait a second before he tells them about his wedding day. The gorgeous atmosphere, the pleasant music, the wedding cake he pondered and spent hours making just right, you adorned in your beautiful white dress. He could speak hours on his love if you let him, and he is not afraid to shout it out for everyone else to know and hear: you were his and he was yours.

If there was anything that symbolised the depths of your love and his, it would be the wedding ring around your finger and the wedding band around his. Yours was gorgeous but simple, a beautiful diamond reflecting the strength of the love you both shared. His was personal and beautiful, a gold band etched with sapphires, engraved with the date of the wedding until the end of time.

He adored it, he adored the weight of it on his finger, a reaffirmation of the oath you both pledged. He adored showing it off to people, just as he adored seeing you pointing to your ring when asked if you were taken. He would only remove it when absolutely necessary, such as when he prepared meals for his crew, but even then it stayed close to him where he could never misplace it. He told you he would look after it forever, but amongst Sanji's abundance of thoughts, there was a moment where the location of his prized ring slipped his mind.

Sanji has been absent all day, hastily making meals, moving swiftly from your side, and not even a murmur of hello as he leaves every room you enter. You are confused and slightly hurt, but most of all you are concerned.

Have you done something?

Was he feeling okay?

Why was he avoiding you?

When you asked your crewmates about his behaviour, however, they said similar things. How his answers had been short, unable to request meals due to his haste to enter the next room, even Nami and Robin claimed he had seemed more distracted. So you frown at the entrance of the kitchen; you had just seen him enter and knew you could try and talk to him now. You only hoped he would share in his troubles.

As the door to the kitchen creeps open, Sanji freezes at the sound of your footsteps and looks up at you standing before him. When your eyes meet you catch guilt and trepidation in the depths of his, and you are instantly more worried than before.

"Sanji, what's wrong? You're not being yourself."

Your husband grits his teeth in regret, and you catch a slither of tears amongst his lower lash line, causing you to reach up and caress his face in concern. But in his mind, Sanji feels as though he does not deserve your touch or your care. He had lost his wedding band and could not for the life of him remember where he put it. He felt as though he had been searching the whole day, but as the hours passed, he felt his hopes withering along with the sun.

His most prized possession, a symbol of your love and a remnant of the best day of his life, was lost due to his carelessness.

His eyebrows furrow together as he reaches out and holds your hand that lingers on his face, his words low and softly spoken.

"I lost my wedding band. I- I'm so sorry love."

Your eyes widen slightly in surprise, and Sanji readies himself for the disappointment and your swift anger, rejection, your swift dismissal of him from in front of you. But instead, you collect yourself before continuing to bear the concern in your gaze mixed with what looked like understanding; finally knowing why he was acting this way.

"It'll be okay Sanji, no need to work yourself up. We'll look for it together, I'm sure we'll find it."

Sanji's eyes spark open in his own surprise at your kind words and conduct. God, he didn't deserve you. Guilt still travels freely within him, especially as he feels the coolness of your own wedding ring against his cheek; you had looked after your ring with so much care.

"I'm sorry love."

You smile but you release the touch on his face in favour of grasping his hand in comfort.

"It's okay, now come on, let's retrace your steps shall we?"

The next few hours are spent all around the Sunny, every room Sanji had been in before he remembered losing the ring was searched from the roof to the floor. You asked your crewmates if they had seen the mix of gold and blue you both are so adamant to find, had looked in every small crevice that may contain the precious jewellery. And as the sun started to dim, you were now looking in your shared chambers one last time.

Your hair was ruffled like his, clothes wrinkled under the time spent trying to find the ring, but to Sanji, you were still the beautiful, thoughtful and loving wife he married. You had spent all day trying to find something due to his own mistake, and he was never more regretful for losing the wedding band, nor more grateful for having you as his wife than he was now. Moments pass in silence, but finally, you let out a delighted gasp.

"Sanji!!"

Your husband instantly perks up from the other side of the room and in your hands is the wedding band, finally found. Your smile is wide, as you quickly run over to him, taking his hand and sliding it on his ring finger where it lay as perfect as it did all that time ago at your wedding. Sanji meets your gaze with such gratitude he cannot describe and impatiently presses his lips to yours. You smile as you return his fervour and pull away.

"Thank you, my love."

You let out light laughter as you roll your eyes.

"Of course, I am your wife you know? You can come to me about these things."

Sanji's heart warms even more than he thought possible as he tucks away a loose strand of hair from your face, admiring your features.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Sanji makes you your favourite dinner and dessert as a thank you for your help and your love. You never see him without the ring on his person, again.

- Zoro -

Among the straw hats, Zoro seemed the least likely to be intertwined with thoughts of love and rings and weddings, well at least that's what the Strawhat crew initially thought. But as time passed, he fell for you, and what would you know, suddenly he is asking Robin and Nami about weddings and dresses and ceremonies; how it works, what would you like, how soon could he pledge his love and you yours? In utter reluctance and on rare occasions he would even approach the 'idiot cook' for advice; something he would often regret afterwards.

But suddenly, the two of you were married and had rings on your fingers and he was your husband and you were his wife. The ring he got you was surprisingly thoughtful, and you knew the girls had something to do with it as it looked so much like how you wished it to be when you talked to them. His was simple. A gold band, but on the underside there etched your name. He very rarely took it off, and it became a part of him just like the earrings he wore or the three swords always at his hip; secretly finding strength in the piece of your love always present.

Zoro is a man, adamant about loyalty, and it is one of the things he adored most about you. The rings symbolised that for him; that an oath had been pledged and the two of you belonged to the other. It was something you both took pride in every day, and he found satisfaction watching the crestfallen faces of men when they spotted your wedding ring, just as you did when you saw women leave him be when they spotted his wedding band. He took care of it and treasured it, more than he would allow you to know, so he is honestly shocked when one day, he finds it missing.

Zoro feels cold sweat rising on his skin, and he honestly can't remember a time he felt more stressed. He is looking down at his hands again and again, as though he can't believe the absence of jewellery he always had on his finger.

He looks frantically around your shared chambers, looking in drawers of bedside tables, under the bed, and every nook where gold might enter his vision. He spent many moments, searching in utter silence, but he finds no semblance of a ring anywhere.

The door suddenly creaks and Zoro stands upright, hair and clothes slightly ruffled, swords leant against the wall in his haste to find the missing ring. You enter your room, looking up in surprise at the rare presence of your husband in the middle of the day, but it was lucky for you as you had been searching for him.

"Zoro," you smile, before your eyebrows pull together in confusion. "Are you okay? I thought you're usually in the crow's nest about this time?"

Your husband freezes, static under the weight of your searching eyes and scouring for an excuse. You step closer, and instantly his hands go behind his back, causing you to stare at him in bewilderment at his strange behaviour. You eye his discomposure, his hidden hands and his guilty expression with suspicion.

"Zoro what are you hiding?"

"N-nothing woman just got up from a nap. I'll be in the crow's nest-"

He doesn't let you continue your words and is out the door in a swift movement. You frown but shrug looking down into your hands. Ussop had found Zoro's wedding band in the bathroom, no doubt from the shower you had somehow forced him into this morning. You had simply wanted to give it back but decided to wait until a better time when he wasn't in such a hurry to get to his training. As you are about to let the matter go, however, you spot three familiar swords on the wall of your room where Zoro left them.

You frown at the sight, just what was your husband up to?

Meanwhile, Zoro is moving at speed throughout the Sunny, every room he barges in, searching in what he hopes is discretion before running off in frustration again. Many times he left his crewmembers in utter surprise at his uncharacteristic demeanour, usually he was training or napping, not found running around deck in discomposure.

You had bumped into a few of your friends who shared the same concern you had earlier; his strange behaviour and franticity. Nami complained that he had barged in while she was making a map, ruined due to her shock, Robin said that she had been reading on deck when he had been looking closely at the floor for something, Luffy exclaimed that he thought he was looking for some sort of treasure but quickly left in his boredom of nothing found.

You start to put the pieces together and begin to realise, that he was looking for something. And that something was probably the ring the Ussop had turned to you, so even if Zoro did check the bathroom it wouldn't have been there for him to find. You sigh as you quickly get up, trying to find him, Robin assuring that she had last seen him enter the kitchen and with the sounds of two men fighting, you supposed she was right.

When you open the door to the kitchen, Sanji and Zoro who seemed as though they had been arguing look at you blankly before crossing their arms and looking away from the other. You hear Zoro murmur something along the lines of, "Don't tell her," but you ignore it, hoping to relieve the tension in the room.

"Hey guys, everything alright?"

You ask, and Sanji sighs at your words before walking out of the kitchen; he seemed disappointed in your husband, more than usual. "I'll be outside [y/n]-san." You turn back to your boyfriend in Sanji's absence and you furrow your brows in concern.

"Zoro-"

"I lost my wedding band."

Zoro interrupts you before you can continue or pass him the ring in your grasp. You pause at the abruptness of his words, and the surprising amount of regret and hurt in his downcast eyes; he looked as though he had failed you.

"Zoro, it's okay I-"

"No, it's not okay, dammit." He looks to you then, and his eyes betray the stress and worry he had held onto all day, softening at the sight of his wife - you - looking at him in concern when he has just lost a treasured possession you had given him. You watch the way your husband's eyebrows pull together, and a frown makes its way to your face at the sight of him so worked up over the ring.

"It was my wedding band, a part of an oath we pledged on our wedding day, and I- I lost it. I should've looked after it better, I know that. I'm sorry."

You look, wide-eyed at the sight of the swordsman apologising to you. One of the rare times he would, but you realise now how much he placed importance on what the ring symbolised and what guilt must've filled his senses at his readiness for your disappointment. You step forward, caressing the curve of his face with one hand, as his eyes look at you, emotion betraying his eyes, but you smile softly and unravel your other hand. A moment of shock enters your husband's vision at the sight of the golden band he had almost turned the ship over for.

You smile sheepishly then, "I'm sorry, I tried telling you and giving it to you earlier but you were, you know, you seemed busy. Ussop found it in the bathroom."

You expect him to become irritated, having searched so long for something already found, but instead, Zoro smiles wide, kissing your lips suddenly in one swift movement. When he pulls away, he puts the ring back on his finger, satisfied by the light weight of it on his hand. "Thank God," he murmurs before looking at you so determinately it makes you blush. "I won't lose it again." You collect yourself before nodding, warmth spreading in your chest at his rare emotion in front of your eyes.

"I know you won't."

[thalwri]

TEACH ME, SIR!

part 2!

STARRING: art professor!rafayel x art student!reader

synopsis: you've been struggling in your art classes, and your professor hadn't made it any easier for you. who would have thought he'd come looking for you when you stopped coming to the lessons?

warnings: porn with plot, all characters are aged up (and in university), fingering, body worship, cunnilingus, cockblocking, male masturbation, dirty talk, cock slapping, overstimulation, cum eating, pure filth.

wc: 7,5k

MINORS DON'T INTERACT!

you were more than prepared to throw that chunk of clay out the window. you could feel the pressure looming over you, mostly on your neck. you were just over a month away from your practical exam and you were drowning in absolute shit.

how did you end up in this unworthy predicament? 

out of the kindness of your heart, and the fact that you owed them big time, you decided to take up an art course with one of your closest friends so that she wouldn’t be lonely throughout the semester. 

you were registered and everything, with the needed supplies clean and fresh and ready for use. the glossy joy of it slowly disappeared when you slowly came to realise over the following days that your friend wasn’t attending classes for a reason. she dropped out. not of the class. of the university. and ran to another country with her boyfriend for a six month vacation.

perfect. now you were all on your own in an art class as someone who had no clue on how to draw, paint, or do anything art related. the only consolation – and misfortune – was your unnaturally handsome professor. despite his pretty face and alluring voice, he had a certain knack that always got on your nerves.

based off the rumours you’ve heard, professor rafayel worked as both a teacher of art and classical music, specialising in opera. apparently he had a voice so divine that half the auditorium fainted or fell ‘madly’ in love with him. his artwork was basically on par with his voice. 

not only was he a renown artist globally, he often worked on pieces to send to the gallery near the university which attracted multiple art lovers from all corners of the world. he was rarely in lectures in the previous years but this year he decided to buckle down and teach full time. 

and the first thing he had you do for your finals was a trial sculpture. you had started with something basic: a fish. a cute little fishie that would be surrounded by a wave. not too simplistic but it had enough detail to be easy to look at and mark. 

you were almost certain your professor would compliment you for the detail you’ve meticulously added to your work. the way you’ve made something so simple so beautiful especially for your first time.

“it’s lazy.” that melodic voice quickly soured into a baneful buzz of noise. rafayel stared at your work with a hint of disdain on his face. your hopeful smile slowly fell in disbelief. you spent hours on that. hours. you could hear the giggles from the girls in the studio erupt behind you. 

it wasn’t surprising that the professor had gathered a cutthroat fanbase of women who would do anything to gain his favour– and from some others, fuck him. solidarity clearly didn’t exist when it came to the illusive rafayel. 

“this is something a child would do,” he scoffed, brushing his finger across the still-drying fins of your poor fish. “this may be a trial practice before the real thing, sure. but it’s no excuse to show no effort. you’ll get a 50 for this if it gets moderated.”

a pass. barely. those charming purple-blue eyes scanned your solemn face before he glided off to the next sculpture, immediately grazing the artist. but not as badly as he did with you. 

you stared at your little fish, its form now scorned with the assault of his graceful, well maintained finger. for someone so effortlessly handsome, he was such a bitch. and you weren’t afraid to say it out loud. in fact, you did. 

it came out as a mumble low enough not to be heard. yet he somehow did. those ethereal eyes glanced at you momentarily as if he acknowledged it, and a small grin curved on his lips.

you wouldn’t say you were accustomed to his ‘bullying’. however, it wasn’t the first time he’d pick on you. during the theory-based lectures, rafayel would turn his attention to you, poking and prodding you endlessly for the historical accounts of artists that you didn’t know existed. then he’d ask you – mind you, only you – which techniques should be used with which equipment for whichever type of painting style that came up in that stupidly pretty mind of his. that extensive mind covered and protected by a mane of purple wavy hair. 

you had often wondered how soft his hair would be. and what his hands would feel like in yours. soft? calloused? he was always well dressed, adorned in expensive garb, always appearing in ways that would have any passerby fall madly in love.

he must have been some kind of siren. you were almost lucky you weren’t damned to hear his voice live. 

but the picking and scolding was becoming unbearable. you were beginning to question your worth in the class. you knew you had minimal experience from the get-go, and you never dishonoured yourself by lying or trying to fake it. 

with that being said, there’s only so much slander you can handle from not only your peers but your own professor before it becomes unbearable. eventually, like all straining predicaments, today was your inevitable breaking point.

you sat as you usually would, smack bang in the middle of the lecture hall, taking notes of whatever your professor said as quickly as possible. you took every word seriously, even if he repeatedly mentioned things like “you all should already know this,” or “which you should have learned from last year,”. 

you had worked diligently, listening and writing and occasionally glancing at the board to keep up, in a constant flow determined to finish the course well. up until the lecture hall fell quiet, followed by multiple rings of notifications, even your phone vibrated. 

and one by one, giggles erupted around you, gradually bursting into relentless chortles and laughs. the classmate seated beside you, showed you her phone revealing a devastating sight.

your trial sculpture, that was graded with a bare pass, was crushed and ruined before it could even dry. and right in front of the crime scene, stood a very familiar purple haired artist looking down on your besmirched work. his face was not fully clear in the image but you could see what you believed was a scowl. 

with blurring vision, blinded by your tears scorching your eyes, you raised your gaze to rafayel and the professor’s face masked no shame, no grief, no remorse, just confusion. almost like he didn’t realise what had taken place. 

but he must have. especially if he gave you such a low grade. your teeth ground and pressed against each other, forcing a tick in your jaw. you watched his face slowly contort in a slight realisation of what was happening. he stepped forward, his plump lips slowly split to speak but your things were already packed in your back and you were on your feet, ready to leave.

to make matters worse, the exposure clearly wasn’t enough to embarrass you. of course you had to sit in the middle of your row and stumble out under the sharp, scrutinising gaze of your peers. their snickers, hisses, and cruel whispers did not fall deaf to your ears. you absorbed them like a sponge, your face hardening more and more.

if it meant saving the last few threads of your dignity, you’d keep your head high. you stormed down the stairs, not sparing anyone a glance to push the doors wide open marking your escape. 

and by your word, that was the last time you would ever touch that lecture theatre for the rest of the year.

“i shouldn’t have bothered with that course,” you hissed, stabbing your fork into a fresh pastry. “i should have dropped it when i had the chance.”

it had been three weeks since that embarrassing event. you kept your word to yourself and didn’t bother going to the lectures or the studio sessions. your absence initially did not go unnoticed. as expected, your more confident peers would occasionally tease you or laugh behind your back to get a kick at you. fortunately you knew better than to bite back. 

like clockwork, the whispers dulled into eventual silence and you were at peace for once in the last few months. good riddance.

“you need to go back to your lectures.” zayne, a close companion of yours, muttered as he reached to have another piece of cake. that would be his third slice in the last hour. “your prac is in less than a week.”

“you’ve got a med lab tomorrow and yet you’re here for a limited cake.” you scoffed, watching his eyes light up in delight from the bursting flavour of chocolate mixing with vanilla. you wondered if he would have the same reaction with a carrot cake. mind you, he was likely going to be your future doctor.

“that handsome dickhead thinks he can almost fail my trial and then destroy it?” stab, stab, stab went your fork until it made the table shake. zayne swiftly held his plate up to protect his cake. “does he think i won’t report it to the dean?”

honestly, if you did there was a high chance you wouldn’t succeed. with rafayel’s reputation and the allegations of his donations to the university, you were more likely to be bullied into either apologising to rafayel for causing a ruckus or you’d be forced into silence. judging by the look on his face, zayne seemed to have the same idea.

“it’s only a month left of this crap. i’ve just got the prac and i can put all of it behind me. besides,” you stabbed the pastry again, visualising it as that stupid professor of yours. again and again, you stabbed until you felt it would reach your heart’s content. 

and then a striking idea seeped into your mind. what better revenge than to crush him too?

“besides?” zayne repeated with a raised brow. he held out his hand, waiting for you to explain yourself. 

“i have a plan.” your lips spread into a devilish grin. zayne cringed at the sight. he knew that face well. and it only meant trouble was near. “i’m going to make a sculpture of him. dying terribly.”

“isn’t that unethical?”

“i saw someone make a sculpture of their dick, i’ll be fine.”

your alarm went off abruptly, bringing your mind back to your revenge plot. you had already started creating rafayel’s annoyingly perfect head, using pictures you found of him online as a reference. 

you were supposed to do it at the studio, but one of your senior art friends let you use their private room to prepare it. you would do anything if it meant you’d never have to see him more than you had to. after that stunt he pulled, he’d never get the chance to make fun of you again.

you quickly said your goodbyes to zayne – quickly swiping a bite from his cake – and rushed back to the art faculty, beelining straight to the private studios. you mind buzzed with images of you drowning rafayel in the ocean, watching him gracefully swim with fishes, of you burning him alive, of him seducing you with his looks and his tragically angelic voice as his bare form lay for you to replicate with clay– 

a mere pause wasn’t enough for you to gauge what you were just thinking about. those juxtaposing thoughts had your hand on the wall to hold you upright in case you toppled over from your breath being wheezed right out of you.

since when did you find him that hot?

in all honesty, it wasn’t a lie. rafayel’s an insanely attractive man. truly, if you weren’t more reserved with your attraction to him, you’d probably tried to shoot your shot like all the other desperate people in your class. 

his skin was almost pale like he had spent his entire life underwater, clear and soft and constantly emphasising his damn perfect features. not to mention the moles all over him. it was only up to your imagination what everything beneath his clothing was like. perhaps he hid his muscles well under his clothing.

you quickly shook your head, swatting away those mischievous thoughts about him. those visions of him kissing you, and painting you– fuck.

you deeply inhaled, filling your lungs with as much air as you could muster. your eyes fluttered shut, holding back the profanities brewing deep in your throat.

“that damned–“ within an instant your centre of gravity was toppled and travelled to your arm, which was bring dragged by an almost inhumane amount of strength. 

you couldn’t look at who was pulling you without completely losing your balance and toppling over. you stumbled as your dragger’s pace sped up until you were yanked into complete darkness except the small ceiling lamp dimly illuminating the small space.

as your vision adjusted, you observed the room noting a second heavy breath outside of your own. you felt for whatever was close to you. soft bristles, cold metallic cylinders, the overwhelming smell of chemicals. of paint. this was the supply room.

“where were you?” a siren’s melody swam into your ears like water clearing out the impurities from your hearing. rafayel.

you swiftly turned to face him, following his voice. and fuck damn.

he was disheveled. like, roughed up like he ran all the way across campus just to find you. that dumb big chest of his rose up and down las if a child was using it as a trampoline. small beads of sweat dripped down the opening of his button-up shirt to his abdomen, hidden by silk. 

he asked again. “where were you.” less of a question this time, more like a statement.

“that isn’t any of your business.” your eyes narrowed in scrutiny. why would he care?

“it is my business.” he protested, stepping towards you. instinctively, your legs took you an equivalent step back. this was reminding you too much of those cliche scenes– and they only ended in two ways.

to be frank, you wouldn’t have minded the more action-based ending. you may hate the man but that didn’t mean his face wasn’t pretty.

again and again he draws near and close, and again and again does the space between you and the cabinet full of paint grow smaller and smaller. your tongue slipped out, lubricating the small cracks forming on your dry lips.

a small groaned erupts in the room, rafayel slapped his hand over his mouth and halted in his steps. those purple-blue irises rolled back for a millisecond then returned both hazed and dilated. you tugged at the collar of your shirt, your body warming up the more you brought air into your lungs. 

he was acting weirdly. was it the smell of paint? 

“you haven’t been attending classes.” you couldn’t help but laugh. since when was that his concern? “it will affect your final mark.”

“i’ve checked the handbook,” you scowled. yes, you took the time to read the handbook in depth to make sure you weren’t going to get screwed for skipping lectures. “attendance is recommended but optional.”

pink slowly tinted his cheeks under the dim light, contradicting the enraged look on rafayel’s face– almost a bit too similar to the face he made when he scrutinised your sculpture. your lips twitched, almost exposing your smug satisfaction.

truly, you had no reason to be in his class anymore other than the fact that you had given too much of your time to it already. all those sleepless nights, those days of endurance, those moments of temptation– temptation to walk out the door and never turn back. you wanted it. you often felt that you desperately needed it. 

but you knew better. your friends knew better. in those three weeks of your absence zayne persisted in ensuring you finished what you started, whether it was forcing you to work or giving you moral support by making his own botched version of whatever assignment you had to complete. though it did end up helping him when it came to making notes on anatomy. 

you’ve had endless mounds of support in those three weeks. where you felt like absolute shit. where you wanted to just hide. where you were almost willing to drop out.

fucking rafayel wasn’t going to take that away from you. you had nothing to lose. and he wasn’t going to plague you any longer.

“so if you think dragging me into this supply room will do anything, it’ll only get you into a very dangerous meeting with the dean.” you harshly grinned, waving your phone in your hand. rafayel’s eyes slowly widened upon seeing what was displayed on the screen.

you were recording the conversation. you had been since you got tugged away.

“no donations and pretty artworks can take away the blow of harassment,” your phone rested on top of a can of paint on the floor as you glided towards him in a new air of confidence and spite. “professor.”

his response was disappointing. literally, he said and did nothing. like a marbled statue purely there to be admired. damn him, he was so unnecessarily handsome on a godly level. those disrespectful plump pink lips parted and closed as if trying to figure out what words to spout. 

your smile twitched in agitation under his gaze scanning you from your hair to your skintight top pronouncing your curves, and back up to your face. your stance remained rigid, head held high and face taut with wavering spite.

rafayel’s calmness as unsettling, too calculating for your own preference. “you bite your pen when you concentrate in lectures, did you know that?” his voice dropped an octave, reaching a husky flow. a shiver rolled down your spine as it arched in response to his voice. like a siren calling a damned sailor.

“what?” your disbelief came out in a choked whisper. the moisture in your throat was wiped clean from you, leaving complete dryness almost worse than a desert. 

“and you like to listen to the questions,” rafayel continued, moving closer to you in tandem with your rising pulse. his eyes were locked on yours, dragging you deeper into his abyss intending not to let you go. “you bite your lip whenever my voice deepens. and you always have questions but choose not to ask.”

he was getting too close. you were too close. the heat of his breath fanned your skin as his height forced you to raise your gaze to maintain your stare-off. something about it felt a little too hot for your liking. your skin prickled in sensitivity rubbing against the fabric of your clothing.

there was no way this was getting you aroused. no fucking way.

“do you know why you don’t ask?” his hand gripped the edge of the cabinet, just a few centimetres from your head. the distance between your lips slowly yet inevitably closed. your breath was trapped in your throat almost clawing for release but it remained trapped. 

“you’re scared.”

“i’m not afraid of drawing, rafayel.” first name basis already? you were really testing your luck. you expected him to return to that unsettling silence again before telling you that your suspension was pending.

instead, rafayel broke into a chuckle, sweat-slick chest and shoulders shaking as he laughed. he quickly straightened his lips upon seeing your eye twitch, only to burst into another fit of suppressed laughs. 

“who in their mind would be afraid of a bit of paint?” his voice returned to that familiar serene, light tone. the one that brought half the student body to its knees. “no, no, no. i’ve managed to reduce it to two things.” 

you instantly jerked back as far as you could – which wasn’t really that far because were already at your dead end – and balled your hand into a tight fist, ready to punch him square in the jaw. the side of your neck tickled with heat as his lips hovered by your ear.

“me, or the chance that you’ll do incredibly well.”

bewildered was an understatement. you were discombobulated at the least. you couldn’t even say it was a bizarre assumption because it was true. 

not the fact that you were afraid of rafayel– he’s a walking model who pouts whenever someone speaks to him with a bit more sass than him. even his relentless critique of you doesn’t illicit fear. the only thing he’s gained from that was you growing to despise him.

but your confidence in your artistic abilities were never high. remember, you only joined the course for your friend. and they ditched you last minute. you walked into the studio with the mindset of knowing that you were likely to fail even if you put your hardest work in. 

clearly, he noticed.

“you walked into my class knowing nothing,” rafayel leaned back to face your gaze once more with a stern look on his face. “it’s only understandable that you’d be afraid of messing it up. i can see it in your art. i can sense the fear.”

“yeah, right.” you huffed, turning your face away to blink away the stinging sensation burning your eyes. “you prefer to call it lazy and then destroy it.”

for the first time in however long its been since you were trapped in this room with him, rafayel’s facade broke. a flicker of guilt flashed in his gaze. then confusion.

“destroy?”

“don’t act coy.” he could not just play coy. “you destroyed my trial sculpture. there are pictures of it spreading everywhere. you know what you did.” 

rafayel slowly shook his head. “i found it like that,” his voice was grave, eyes almost darkened just from the memory. “i was trying to get a scope of the damage to see if i could redo it for you, but it was beyond repair.”

a grave heaviness weighed on your heart. he wanted to fix it? despite being so cruel to you he was that willing to repair your work on your behalf… but that didn’t answer the footage.

“and the picture?” what was meant to come out as a scrutinising hiss escaped as a whisper, holding back the many tears brewing in your eyes.

“i had heard giggles outside the studio, but they ran out before i could check.” his perfect brows furrowed as he observed you. it was more than just intuitive for him to comfort you, console your shock away. his hand reached to hold your arm, to transfer his remorse through his body’s warmth. “i am sorry about what happened to your sculpture. really.”

“don’t.” the involuntary pang in rafayel’s chest did not go unnoticed. his lungs filled with shaking air, unsure of how to proceed. you weren’t pushing him away nor were you hiding. it looked like you were equally as unsure.

“the mark you gave it–“ you seethed, voice cracking as the venom of your tongue delivered each words with malice. “the embarrassment. the shame it left me drowning in, all of it. it was you. and you think you can play innocent and ask why i haven’t shown up?”

rafayel’s fingers twitched, hovering over your skin hesitant to move away. perhaps he was too hard on you, too particular in his interest to monitor your growth in the arts. his face scrunched up, unsure of what you’d allow him to try without violating your space.

“you think you can use that stupidly pretty face to ask for forgiveness?” it was clearly intended to be a mumble that he wasn’t supposed to hear but he did. loud and clear. the tips of his ears instantly warmed and his brows rose.

“stupidly pretty face?” 

shit.

shit.

of course he heard you. of course he fucking heard you call him pretty. you just wanted to crawl into a pint of paint and choke on it until it filled your lungs with chemical pigment. and there was no way out of this too. rafayel quite literally had you trapped with his body. 

his tall, divinely sculpted, soft, gorgeous body. that artistically designed form that you’ve dreamt of touching, that you’ve touched yourself to in your quiet nights– not that you’d ever admit it to anyone let alone him.

warm, almost hot, fingers slide up your arm trailing the standing hairs on your skin. they rounded your shoulder and meeting with the fabric of your clothing, fondling it to check its quality. they reached higher, and hotter, slow and intentional feeling the curve of your throat until the pad of his thumb reached your chin, lifting it until your gaze found his. a raw, newfound level of unspoken, familiar need engulfed you— and you weren’t uncomfortable with it.

“you think i’m pretty?” that husk tone returned, tickling away your nerves replacing them with something more feral. 

“everyone does.” you huffed, trying to maintain the front of rafayel’s charms not affecting you. it was almost obvious to you both that you’d fallen in deep. 

and yet despite embarrassing yourself, rafayel refused to back down. his thumb’s touch on your chin roughened into a grip with his hand. a mischievous glint twinkled in his eyes. 

“say it again.”

it was either the way he said it or the way he looked at you while saying it. regardless, it left your core warm and throbbing with an unprecedented level of need. this was wrong but it felt so right.

you slowly swallowed. “say what?”

the distance between your lips slowly closed, bit by bit. “that i have a stupidly pretty face.”

“no.”

his soft laugh fanned your face like a warm, mint scented breeze. “say it.”

your eyes darted between his own, noting how unnatural yet befitting the colours mixes and emphasised his almost inhumane beauty. it used to sink you yet now you could tell he was starting to drown in yours.

“make me.”

an erratic charge surged between you like lightning striking a tense, hot night. rafayel softly tutted, shaking his head– almost desperate to shake off his unspoken desire to pursue this. to pursue you. his hands did not leave you though. his grip on your face returned to your neck, securing a gentle hold on the base of your exposed flesh, both soft and pulsating with nerves.

rafayel pressed his forehead on yours, your connection anchoring him to reality and restraining his needs. “tell me you think i’m pretty.” his eyes grew heavy with heat, hazing in and out of focus as they moved from your spit-slick lips, your eyes, and every distinguishable feature on your face.

in twisted, lewd synchrony, your lower lip found itself caught seductively in the bite of your teeth. the corners of your lips twitched like they wanted to expose your snarky grin. like your body wanted to show rafayel how you’ve dreamt of that moment.

you should be pushing him away. you should minutes ago. but you didn’t. you didn’t want to. your eyes fluttered shut as rafayel’s grip on your face tightened, finally pulling you both into the passionate embrace of your lips. 

the first contact was a shock, forcing you into a soft jolt. his lips were even softer than you imagined, his hands gentle yet crushing to keep you in his hold rubbing small circles on your skin with his thumb.

then the erratic hunger kicked in like a shot of vodka. your faces pushed deeper into each other almost desperate to keep yourselves deep in your embrace. your fingers tangled in his soft locks, your mind drowning in the flowing currents of his scent. 

lips waltzing in a push and pull fell into an intoxicating dance of tug and bite. it drove you insane until it was just too much. 

you slowly pulled your head back, still connected to him by his teeth latched onto your lower lip nibbling at your swollen flesh.

“this can’t be right.” you sighed against his lips, leaning your head back to catch some air without feeling like your face will get hotter. “we must be violating some code of conduct.”

that irritating chuckle escaped his lips again. “then push me away.”

you should have. you definitely should have. before you could even consider it you found your lips back on his, drooling tongue sweeping past the enclosure of his lips to meet his. it was hot and deliciously wet meeting in a careless fight to taste as much as your breaths could allow.

you rolled your hips against his– slight and subtle– just enough to feel a slight brush of him. to feel it. he felt so big and thick. 

a sharp curse flooded your ears, his hands tugged at your waist to pull you closer and make you feel it. his fingers twitched and squeezed you, caressing your waist without abandon, rising ruthlessly higher until his hands disappeared under your shirt. he was boiling, a human inferno trapped in a body of flesh and bone restricted by restraint yet fuelled with hunger. 

they reached inchingly closer to the swell of your breasts, barely contained by your bra– you needed him to rip it off at this point. they curved over the lace and enclosed on each one, pulling your perked nipples out to fondle.

his tight hold on you dragged out a sound not meant to leave your lips. it was enough to make him snap. two hot bodies pressed to each other, clothing almost completely unravelled, and the door behind you still unlocked.

the air was thick and hot with heavy pressure and mutual need. 

a low grunt rumbled deep in rafayel’s throat as he pulled away from the intoxication that was your lips. “tell me to stop.” his lips ghosted over your skin, dragging a light trail of your mixed saliva down your neck until it stopped with a gentle peck. “tell me to walk away.”

“fuck no.” you panted. your hand tugged at his soft hair, pushing him deeper into your neck. “finish what you started.”

he laughed against your skin, marvelled by how much wittier you became when you weren’t tense. when you were fogged in temptation. he could only imagine how much more of you he’d experience the further down his lips went.

perhaps you tasted just as good as you smelt. his knees buckled at the thought, the mere sight of his eyes looking up to you as you lost composure was as unprofessional as it could get. his cock throbbed in his slacks, pumping so loudly he could barely hear himself breathe.

still gripping your fleshy mounds, rafayel sunk beneath your gaze never breaking contact with your beautiful eyes. one hand slowly crept down out of the warmth of your shirt to your alarmingly short skirt.

it was the third time he had seen you wear it since you joined his class. and every time his eyes were attached to you more than before. the vision of raising it above your pretty ass had always crossed his mind but he always had the mind to maintain decorum. the sea must have blessed him with this privilege today.

“need to eat you,” he whispered into your skin, spreading kisses all over you like invisible marks of his name. “taste you.”

your imagination conjured many things for you to indulge in, but this was beyond what even you could dream of. his glossy gaze, deliberate hot touch, his damned soft lips searing you with his affections… how could you say no?

your head hit the edge of the cabinet as you nodded in desperation, so needy for his mouth to explore you everywhere, so aroused that nothing could hold you back from sinking deeper and deeper. your legs slowly split apart, welcoming rafayel’s gentle hand with grace.

completely sat on the floor, the professor stared at your legs in a daze of reverence and worship. he was salivating the scent of your dripping pussy reeling him in like a fish swimming to bait. and he wouldn’t even consider himself damned if it meant being hooked by you.

his grip tightened on your thigh, fingers pressing into you to memorise your shape and how you felt by his touch. his hand slid down your leg in a great struggle to hold onto the last of his restraint while your pants and soft moans just made things so much worse.

“don’t make too much noise,” he quietly groaned, licking a line up your thigh up to the lacy panties covering your warmth. his eyes rolled back as your scent flooded his senses like a drug. in a fuss, rafayel pushed your skirt up revealing red lace. 

he almost came on the spot. 

his fingers slipped between the hem, feeling you up and down. he just had to go a bit further… just a little to get a taste of that sweet nectar. his eyes darted upwards to find you completely disheveled, pretty lips parted, chest heaving with your nipples pressed against your shirt, and your hands holding his head as close to your cunny as possible.

rafayel’s lips curved into a lustful smile and finally pushed his fingers further into your panties, brushing over your sensitive nub. a sharp gasp sounded in the room, his scalp ached from the harsh tug you forced on him before slowly pushing him back where he was.

you were so cute.

you didn’t feel cute. you felt like you were boiling up, throbbing to the point where it hurt, dripping like a fucking river. you were surprised your wetness wasn’t dripping down your legs already. rafayel was definitely the type to lick it up to prevent it going to waste.

his fingers crept around your clit, ghosting circles round and round in a teasing tickle almost like he wanted to pull a reaction out of you. every subtle reaction, every jolt and twitch, and every hesitant tug at his hair made his hips jut into the air with his cock roughly straining his slacks.

he tilted his head, lips enclosing around your clothed clit, swiping his tongue sloppily around you, loudly moaning at your taste. his fingers finally found your pussy, soaking before they even went inside you. you slapped your hand over your mouth. he was going to drive you insane.

loud squelches echoed around you with his fingers teasing and tapping your hole to draw out as much of your nectar as he could. your pussy lips were as swollen the lips he kissed and bit, sensitive to his finger sliding up and down before slowly plunging into you.

just as his lips parted more– a loud bang! shocked you both out of your trance of indulgence. you yelped and jerked back, pussy walls tightening around his fingers as he swiftly moved his head away from your core– a string of saliva connecting him to your clit cruelly reminding him how far he let his desire take him.

the shockwave of the noise sent the door rattling as if someone was about to walk in on you. rafayel adjusted your underwear back in place and tugged your skirt down, rearranging it so that you were somewhat presentable. your hands shakily fixed his messed hair in a sore attempt to ignore the aching need your pussy screamed to you.

your clothes stuck to your skin from the heat, your vision hazed by lust and interrupted pleasure so filthy and sinful that you couldn’t help but bite your lip. 

rafayel licked his lips as he rose to his feet, knees aching even though it felt like he had only been beneath you for seconds. he straightened his clothing, mustering the courage to face your gaze. you were dangerously close. dangerously beautiful. dangerously arousing. he just had to kiss you again. 

“i’ll deal with the person that damaged your sculpture.” his voice both husky and cracked still rumbled deep within you. “please forgive me and the incident.” 

without another word, he stalked out of the supply room leaving you to fully dissect what just happened.

he almost ate you out.

rafayel, your professor, almost ate you out. in a supply room. and he left you in need for so much more. a single step would send your poor clit, and your pussy really, into a frenzy– both sore and soaked, vibrating with pleasure. 

you were going to have to figure out how to deal with it.

but rafayel was determined to deal with it now.

he almost sprinted to his office, dizzy with lust. it was locked and dark with only candles giving him light. stacks of paper was spread out all over his desk left abandoned while he sat in front of his recent work– a completely blank canvas.

gods, his length was already leaking through his pants and aching so fucking hard that any subtle movement would have him cumming for hours.

rafayel didn’t bother removing himself with the delicacy of taking care of himself properly. his hands fumbled at the buckle of his belt, fingers slipping out of control before he could tug it off and toss it to the floor.

his vision was blurring him blind and abandoned him in the memory of your lips, your divine mixing scent, your melodic voice, and your taste. your noses had brushed and bumped into each other while his tongue ventured deep in your mouth, tasting the remains of the sweet pastry and bitter coffee you had consumed beforehand.

the office was somehow as hot as he was, the air burned with the fading remnants of your scent driving into a state of great distress. the zipper to his pants were already forced down from the sheer will of his cock raging and throbbing against its confines. he barely bothered himself with pulling them down, hurriedly gripping his girthy length both recklessly pulsating and near suffocating in dribbling precum.

his fingers rose to his lips, rubbing at the swollen effect of you attacking him with your teeth. it still stung from a light touch and that only aroused him more. his fingers were still sticky from caressing and plunging into your juicy cunny— explicitly reminding him how delicious you were.

without further thought, he pushing his digits on his salivating tongue and the flavours that were you burst into his senses like an inferno raging through a dry forest. rafayel’s eyes fluttered as they rolled back, a loud and deep moan soon to follow. 

“f-fuck.” he could just curse and curse for hours. “you did this to me.”

his tongue swirled between his fingers to absorb and savour as much of you as it could. he wasn’t too sure on whether he’d get the privilege to be so close to you again. he suckled on the tips of his finger like he would with that swollen clit of yours. fuck, you just somehow got a grip on him that he couldn’t shake off.

every moment he spent observing you just made him attach more and more even when he knew he shouldn’t have. but you intrigued him. your determination despite your lack of confidence. your thick skin in the face of his - often unnecessary - critique. 

not to mention of good your lips felt with his own. 

a shaky sigh shuddered out his lips as his hand slowly stroked up and down reaching to his base and tickling the leaky slit of his reddened tip. his hips jerked into his hand violently sending his head lolling back over the couch. 

the tandem rhythm of his hips remained constant, thrusting into the air and being squeezed tightly by his hand to simulate that jaw clenching strength your pussy walls used to grip on him. no matter how hard he’d try nothing would be able to replicate the effect you had on him. 

your name bouncing on the walls in an endless prayer turned to a song of moans and grunts. rafayel’s saliva-slick hand ran down his neck to his chest and slipped through his shirt to circle his perked nipples now rendered completely sensitive to even a breath.

while feeling each vine surrounding his cock pulsate, a lewd idea slithered into his mind like his most devious desires slipping right out to control him. he was so painfully hard it hurt. his clothes were sticking to his skin, dampened by his sweat and precum mixed together.

and then he raised his palm and struck it across his cock. smack! the sound struck through the room like thunder. 

a gasp, then a laugh, then another smack! followed by a husky moan.

the sting melted into rousing pleasure so instantaneously it almost gave him whiplash. he did it again.

smack!

and again.

smack!

up until the pain was enough to knock him unconscious. with each swing, his cock flew back upwards and jutted into the air shooting drops of precum up. rafayel bit his lip at the sight, greedily laughing at the pure slutty act he performed for himself. 

he could only dream for you to do the same thing.

his hand did not stop once it returned to stroking. the plap! plap! rapidly sounding as his hand fisted his cock to oblivion was disrespectfully slick. but it could be so much wetter. rafayel swiftly leaned over his length and spat straight onto his sobbing cockhead, pulling his hand right up to swirl and mix it all with his palm.

the wet friction alone was debilitating. he fucked himself into his hand like a rabid animal in intense heat, rutting like a fool drunken by a mere whiff of your scent. his hips lifted right off the couch, chasing his climax and hand that wasn’t even running from him– though could imagine you would.

“so– fucking– tight–“ he squeezed harder until his entire cock was red. the pain no longer affected him. his only devotion was hitting his edge in the hopes that it would feel like a fraction of what it would be like inside you.

inside your wet mouth, stretched wide open for him, drooling down your chin right onto your tits. or even inside your sweet cunny, throbbing and fluttering as your walls squeeze him with each thrust that tickles you to multiple orgasms.

“take it– take– oh fuck.” his voice cracked into a whiny whimper as his hands rolled over his leaking slit every time his hand brushed over his tip. the other hand continued to assault his chest, abusing his sensitivity to the max. 

the hand pumping his cock raised to smack it over and over, left and right in a broken tempo. his cock jumped, legs practically shivering from the pleasure and spreading wider and wider like you sat between them to take him deep in your mouth.

he couldn’t help himself. smack! the pain felt so good. smack! it was so wrong yet so stupidly right. smack! he’d do this for hours if he could. his core tightened, awaiting his incoming climax as his cock pulsed in a plea for him to stroke it to oblivion.

his grip became utterly brutal, rapidly pumping his shaft like his hand was a fucking fleshlight. he was messy, wet, and his lewd mixture of fluid was dripping down his legs onto the couch beneath him, staining and soaking the fabric. he twisted his hand right at the tip shocking his senses beyond the board.

he brought his hand to his tongue, lapping up all the precum sitting so impolitely on him, swallowing every drop like sacred water. his free hand slid down to finish what he started and rubbed and stroked with the intention to push him right to the end.

his body tensed as one more cruel squeeze snapped the tight thin rope within him. his eyes crossed, seeing only pure white. his breath hitched, and thick ropes of hot, sticky cum shot up like rockets and splattered all over him like fallen paint.

moans and whimpers shivered out of him like a broken record, your name remained mixed within his curses. his hand didn’t stop its relentless strokes. it persisted in dragging him through his high no matter how many times he’d try to stop himself. 

his cock ached and weeped, leaking hot white all over his hand as it gradually slowed. it had gone right up to his chin. rafayel lowly groaned, both fucked out and ruined beyond comprehension. ruined by his own hand and the thought of what more you could have done in that supply room.

rafayel raised his shaking hand to his face, analysing the way it glistened over his flushed skin. his tongue poked out of his lips and swiped all the way up from his wrist to the tip of his finger then took it deep inside. the flavour of his own juices mixed with your own, drawing a lustful moan from him.

he slurped it all up, licking his hand completely clean in an obscene and deliberate manner. like he was putting on a show for you, even though you weren’t actually there, and swallowed it all with great satisfaction.

he slouched into the couch, breath still laboured and heavy. he was still filthy and drenched and yet he still had the greed for so much more. 

that beautiful laugh replaced the echoes of his lewd noises once his high slowly dissipated. 

all that from a kiss?

rafayel was fucked.

might just post a calm part ii if you guys like it

[maaarine]

'We Can Bury Anyone': Inside a Hollywood Smear Machine (Megan Twohey and Mike McIntire and Julie Tate, The New York Times, Dec 21 2024)

"Last summer, as the release of “It Ends With Us” approached, Justin Baldoni, the director and a star of the film, and Jamey Heath, the lead producer, hired a crisis public relations expert.

During shooting, Blake Lively, the co-star, had complained that the men had repeatedly violated physical boundaries and made sexual and other inappropriate comments to her.

Their studio, Wayfarer, agreed to provide a full-time intimacy coordinator, bring in an outside producer and put other safeguards on set.

In a side letter to Ms. Lively’s contract, signed by Mr. Heath, the studio also agreed not to retaliate against the actress.

But by August, the two men, who had positioned themselves as feminist allies in the #MeToo era, expressed fears that her allegations would become public and taint them, according to a legal complaint that she filed Friday.

It claims that their P.R. effort had an explicit goal: to harm Ms. Lively’s reputation instead.

Her filing includes excerpts from thousands of pages of text messages and emails that she obtained through a subpoena.

These and other documents were reviewed by The New York Times. (…)

Mr. Baldoni was best known for the CW satirical romantic dramedy “Jane the Virgin.”

Wayfarer provided the resources for bigger ambitions. It was bankrolled by the billionaire Steve Sarowitz, who is co-chair of the studio with Mr. Baldoni.

They and Mr. Heath, the chief executive, are all deeply involved with the Baha’i religious organization, which promotes unity, peace and gender equality.

Mr. Baldoni has presented himself as an ally to women, writing books, co-hosting a podcast with Mr. Heath and giving talks on toxic masculinity. (…)

She claimed Mr. Baldoni had improvised unwanted kissing and discussed his sex life, including encounters in which he said he may not have received consent.

Mr. Heath had shown her a video of his wife naked, she said, and he had watched Ms. Lively in her trailer when she was topless and having body makeup removed, despite her asking him to look away.

She said that both men repeatedly entered her makeup trailer uninvited while she was undressed, including when she was breastfeeding. (…)

As the film release neared, Ms. Lively and other cast members informed Sony and Wayfarer that they would not do any appearances alongside Mr. Baldoni.

So did Ms. Hoover, the author, who had her own dissatisfactions with him and had become more upset after he told her about Ms. Lively’s allegations, according to text messages from Mr. Baldoni and Mr. Heath.

By the first week of August, Wayfarer and Mr. Baldoni had retained Ms. Nathan, who had worked with high-profile clients including Mr. Depp, whose ex-wife, Amber Heard, accused him of physical abuse. (…)

Three days later, Mr. Baldoni texted Ms. Abel, flagging a social media thread that accused another celebrity of bullying behavior and had generated 19 million views. “This is what we would need,” he wrote.

Ms. Nathan soon floated proposals to hire contractors to dominate social media through “full social account take downs,” by starting “threads of theories” and generally working to “change narrative.”

“All of this will be most importantly untraceable,” she wrote. (…)

When Ms. Abel wrote to her Aug. 4 that “I’m having reckless thoughts of wanting to plant pieces this week of how horrible Blake is to work with. Just to get ahead of it,” Ms. Nathan replied that she had spoken off the record to an editor at The Daily Mail.

“She’s ready when we are,” Ms. Nathan wrote.

A flurry of articles followed the Hollywood Reporter piece. Many made it seem as if the only rift was over creative control.

Some journalists had gotten wind of complaints about Mr. Baldoni’s behavior, but none of the most serious ones were published.

“He doesn’t realise how lucky he is right now,” Ms. Nathan texted Ms. Abel. (…)

It is unclear exactly how Mr. Wallace operated.

There are references in emails to “social manipulation” and “proactive fan posting,” and text messages cite efforts to “boost” and “amplify” online content that was favorable to Mr. Baldoni or critical of Ms. Lively.

“We are crushing it on Reddit,” Mr. Wallace told Ms. Nathan, according to a text she sent Ms. Abel on Aug. 9.

The next day, one of Ms. Nathan’s employees texted, “We’ve started to see shift on social, due largely to Jed and his team’s efforts to shift the narrative.”

Ms. Nathan wrote to Ms. Abel: “And socials are really really ramping up. In his favour, she must be furious. It’s actually sad because it just shows you have people really want to hate on women.” (…)

On Aug. 16, Ms. Nathan shared the Daily Mail article headlined “Is Blake Lively set to be CANCELLED?” with references to ‘hard to watch’ videos and a ‘tone deaf’ promotional Q. and A.

“Wow. You really outdid yourself with this piece,” Ms. Abel responded.

“That’s why you hired me right?” Ms. Nathan replied. “I’m the best.”"

[earthtooz]

cw: arranged marriage, fluff, neglect at the beginning, ratio falling hard, pining, ratio being jealous of aventurine, unedited bc i wrote this with my heart not my brain

my brain has been thinking about an arranged marriage fic with dr. ratio...

he isn't kind to you at first, less than happy to share a life with a mere acquaintance. he's heard about you before in passing, noting your achievements with a grain of salt because nothing about you particularly mattered to him, irrelevant against the mass of scrolls and books he needs to read.

you don't really disturb his normal routine too much. you move in to his estate with a fair share of your belongings, but none of them crowd his house too much. you have your own room, pristine guest room unearthed by your artistic touch.

aside from dinners, you don't get to see each other too much. he starts his mornings early, getting up at the crack of dawn to exercise and start his day with a hearty meal. you wake up later, partaking in a slow morning, and if you glanced out the window, you might be able to see your husband running laps around the expanse of his gardens.

you admire his dedication and routine, it's fascinating to live beside a genius. everyday, the chest table that sits in the living room changes, the black and white pieces never remaining where you last recalled. the size of his blackboard is impressive, and yet too small to fit all of the formulas his brain remembers, hands effortlessly dancing along the surface to scratch number after number.

a frequent order of his estate is chalk. a new pile is delivered every three days, and he goes through them without fail every time.

during dinner, he tries to spare some conversation with you. you don't tell him too much about your day, not wanting to bore him with your menial chores. he's only half-listening either way, so you'll feign understanding about his work when he explains what he's up to.

ratio is not an attentive husband, but he doesn't mistreat you, either. he allows you to spend his assets without too much care, doesn't police your everyday tasks, and also doesn't bat an eye at other men or women. his pursuit of intelligence is important, and your wellbeing would not come in between that.

your monotonous, distant routine changes one autumn dusk. you're perched in the front yard with an easel set up before you, the sky in front of you now a blend of pink-purple hues. he returns home earlier than you expected, carriage stopping at the front of his estate, and he witnesses you in your tranquil state.

the paint strokes on the canvas before you are skilled, and show years of dedication to the craft. you're so invested in the piece before you, that you don't even hear him approaching until he calls your name.

"the night turns colder with each minute. shouldn't you come inside before you fall ill?" the scholar greets, and you're snapped out of your creative reverie, looking over at him.

"oh, i had not realised. let me clean up here, first." you take your canvas off the easel, but to your surprise, your spouse kneels down to organise your oil paints back into their box.

"make haste, then," he urges.

during dinner, he can't help but be curious over your hobby, the stubborn splotches of paint clinging to your hands visible to him. that night, you engage in uninterrupted conversation, and discover that he's an artist himself- a sculptor. it calms him, and all the statues reside in a removed room, adjacent to his study.

despite your years of matrimony, you had never once dared enter his study, but the design is so fittingly him. it is organised (well, as organised a genius can be), with shelves and shelves filled with books, discarded scrolls lay around the room, but even then, his taste for greco-roman aesthetics are seen. roman dorics act like stands for little plants, and his many certificates are displayed, along with other achievements.

(his study is overwhelmingly filled with them. though you knew of the merit of the man you were arranged to be married to, you had never known just how expansive the list is. perhaps, that only made him more intimidating to you, standing beside a genius does not feel so light to say anymore.)

he shows you his sculptures, and though many of them are... self portraits... the likeness is disgustingly accurate. it was as if he had casted himself in plaster and displayed it proudly. you wonder how long he must have stared in the mirror to perfect their appearance.

but, there are also various other formidable statues. some of people you recognise. you compliment his skill and don't get to see the blush that spreads along his cheeks.

it seems that you've chipped a way into his heart, because between brushstrokes and chiselled marble, he falls in love with you.

ratio knows he didn't start off being the best husband, but he tries to now, and begins by being present. asks you to dine together where possible, listens when you're talking about your day, and the two of you can be seen venturing downtown together; an unbelievable sight for those who believed that ratio was romantically inept.

perhaps, an even more unbelievable sight, was the soft smile on his face that glanced at you very adoringly, and how you remained unaware of his affections.

and, maybe a jealous veritas ratio is just as unbelievable.

he is practically glaring daggers at the side of a certain blond's head. ratio has never been fond of the scheming businessman, aventurine, and is even less so of the fact that you seem so close to him, more than you are with your own husband. you're speaking with him like how one would with old friends, a peaceful visit to the markets turned sour by his presence.

when you finally, finally, finally, bid farewell to aventurine, who gave ratio a look that signified he was up to no good, your husband held your hand in his gloved one with an unforgiving grip. his mood is dampened for the remainder of the day, and is only made better when you enquire about his sudden glumness, visiting his office to see if he was alright.

you leave him with a kiss on the crown of his head, and a whisper of 'goodnight', before retreating to your chambers, and the only thought that circulates in his head for the rest of the night is you, and how he's going to sweep you off your feet.

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates pt. 3

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : life on campus with a killer on the loose, the FBI makes an arrest word count : 2k warning : canon-typical violence, swear words (one use of the f-word) A/N : thank you so so much for all the love on this story !!! I'm so glad you all enjoy it <333 I'll probably do a part 4, it may be the last part, idk yet :)

part 1, part 2, part 4

"Spencer, I realise your concern, but lots of women look somewhat like this." It wasn't lost on Spencer what Hotch was trying to do by calling by his first name. "Hotch, she- she could be right next to them. She fits his type right down to the colour of her eyes!" "Spencer, man, you need to think rationally." Derek placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder. "Lots of women have that hair colour and length, it's in style right now, right Emily?" "Yeah, definitely." "Look, I just- I need to make a call."

When Spencer had called you sometime in the evening, you'd been expecting him to tell you he was going to come home late and to not wait up for him. What you weren't expecting was for his voice to be the most serious and stern you'd ever heard it. "Don't go outside until I come home, okay?" He knew it was entirely irrational. The unsub only took women in broad daylight, you weren't facing any more risks than usual. But he couldn't take a chance. Not with this. Not with you. "What? Why?" "Just- I'll explain everything when I come home, I'll be there in a couple hours, but please, don't leave the apartment. And make sure everything is locked." "Spencer, what's going on?" "Can you just-" He paused, forcing himself to remain calm. "Look, do as I say, please. I'll explain everything later, I promise." You hesitated for a moment. Luckily for you, you weren't working at the bar tonight. Luckily for Spencer, you liked him enough to indulge him. "Okay." "Thank you."

"Oh my God, no, absolutely not!" "Y/N, it's for your safety, don't you understand that?!" "My safety? What about my life?"

This was the first real fight you'd ever had. You'd had disagreements, of course, he didn't like you leaving your empty cups and glasses all over the place. You told him off for waking you in the morning by making too much noise. Sometimes you'd get jealous if Geoffrey slept in Spencer's bed rather than yours. Yes, you'd had your fair share of arguments, but none quite like this.

"I'm not asking you to give up your life, you're being totally-" You scoffed loudly, interrupting him. "Spencer, you might as well! Do you realise what you're suggesting I do? You want me to give up on going outside, not go to any of my classes, not see any of my friends, not go to work, don't you see what bullshit that is? It's putting a cross on my social life, my education and my work!" You gesticulated angrily as you speak, feeling heat rising to your face. "I already told you, it's for your own safety." He sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He wasn't even looking at you. A tiny, tiny piece of you wanted to slap him. "I will not stop living my life because some psycho thinks it's fun to kill innocent girls! I won't!" You crossed your arms over your chest and resisted the urge to stomp your foot.

"You're being incredibly childish right now." You hated how he managed to stay calm. You wanted him to get just as angry as you were, livid even. It wasn't fair that you were the only one getting upset. "Are you making all the girls who look like me give up everything for the sake of their safety?" Your tone was mocking and mean but you didn't have it in you to care at the moment. He met your eyes at last, lips turned downwards into a frown. Finally, some sort of emotion. "Don't do that, Y/N," he warned in a low voice. "No, I think it's a valid question. Is your boss making an announcement to the press that all the girls in Mary Washington University who look like the three last girls should stay inside? Is he?" you pushed. Spencer looked away from you again, shaking his head in disbelief at your attitude. "No, he isn't."

"Then why do you expect me to do that?!" You threw your hands in the air, beyond frustrated. For a logical person, Spencer's behaviour wasn't making any sense at the moment. "I don't expect you to do it. I want you to do it, I need you to do it." You could feel his calm facade breaking, piece by piece. "Why, Spencer, fucking why?!" "Because!" He finally exploded, jumping to his feet and slapping his palms onto the table. You didn't jump. "Because it's you, Y/N! I can't work this case if I know you're in danger every single day! If I know yours could be the next dead body students ogle at on the university's front lawn! If I know it's your picture they're going to hang up next to the other victims! I just can't do it!"

Oh.

You let yourself fall down on the couch, running your hands over your face. You were both stepping into uncharted territory. You'd tip-toed this line before but had never crossed it yet. And this was not the way to do it. You were not going to cross the border from friendship into something more by screaming at each other. Spencer seemed to read your silence as distress.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell." He softly trudged over to the couch and sat down next to you. "No, it's okay, I- I kind of wanted you to. I'm sorry for getting so upset." You take his hand in your lap and intertwine your fingers. "I understand, I'm asking too much of you, it's selfish." He gives your hand a squeeze. "I just can't stand the thought of anything happening to you." You sit in silence for a little while, processing.

"I just can't hide while I wait for other girls to be killed, Spencer, it wouldn't be fair." Sometimes, Spencer hated how good of a person you were. If your morals and personal ethics were some of the things he liked about you the most, he couldn't help but curse them in this moment. "I don't care about fair," he mumbled, hating how puerile he sounded. You cooed and laid your head on his shoulder. "I know, I'm sorry."

"I won't promise you anything, but I'll try to always be with someone around campus. I'm usually with my friends anyway. And I can share my location with you all the time if that's reassuring for you." "I'd like that, thank you. And... what about when you're at work?" "I can ask Paul to walk me to my car." Paul was the manager at the bar you worked at, Quantequila. His past was a mysterious blend of prison, MMA fighting and crochet clubs. He liked you plenty and you knew he wouldn't mind walking you to your car for a while. "Thank you."

Over the next week, you did just that. Many students started moving in groups and avoiding being alone at all costs after the FBI released the profile and the pictures of the last victims.

"We're looking for a local white man, early twenties. He may have moved here a year ago, we figure he's either in his first year of BA or MA. This is someone you don't notice, he's shy and introverted, he doesn't participate in class and he won't talk to people if he can help it, especially not women. This man is a loner and does his best to be invisible. We think he stalks his victims for a while before attacking them, so if you start seeing someone you've never seen before in strange places, please notify us. My name is Aaron Hotchner and you'll find the hotline on the screen you're watching this on."

You always had at least two friends with you whenever you were roaming about on campus. Though no one really spoke about the situation, the energy had changed. People were becoming tense and suspicious. Friends were fighting over who should accompany who, when and where. A place which had once gathered so many motivated and joyous students now had those very people looking over their shoulder.

You hated it.

Truly, you didn't want to underestimate this killer, but you were getting tired of it all. You'd wish the BAU would just catch him, but, as Spencer had explained to you multiple times, they had incredibly little to go on. What you knew without him telling you was that they needed another victim to predict his next move. Still, you were a person who appreciated alone time and you had gotten none in the last 10 days. So, when two of your friends who were supposed to walk with you from your class to the subway bailed on you, you weren't that upset.

You put your headphones on, listening to your favourite song of the moment and started walking. You had a tendency of getting lost in your thoughts and didn't notice the sound of heavy footsteps following your own over your music. What you did notice though, was the reflection of someone walking close behind you in a cafe window. You looked over your shoulder, frowning. The sun was in your eyes, blocking your vision, but you managed to perceive an average-sized man with long-ish black hair which hung around his face in greasy strands. Not thinking too much of it, you continued on your way.

You didn't think too much of it when you saw him sitting a few tables away from you when you were studying one afternoon at the library. You were captivated by the Middle English poem under your eyes, wondering what the author had meant with the particular use of the kenning "earth-cave". When you looked up and caught his eyes, cold and unnerving, you didn't overthink it. There were some weird people on campus. Who were you to judge?

When you saw him at your grocery store, though, that was when you started worrying. You were picking up a box of After-Eights for Spencer when you saw him looking at oatmeal raisin biscuits. What really tipped you off was that no one really liked those, so he must have been pretending to look occupied. A chill ran down your spine as all the other places you'd spotted him came back to you. Your lecture hall, the cafeteria, sitting in the lawn under a tree, the main hall,...

You decided that the next time you would see him, you'd tell Spencer. You didn't want him to worry if this turned out to be nothing. Maybe the man was just an exchange student? Or had joined during the academic year?

Two days later, the FBI made an arrest. A man named Ben Colton fitted the profile exactly. In his dorm room, they'd found pictures of women who looked exactly like the last victims and of resembling women on campus, you were part of them. You didn't know that, Spencer had felt you didn't need to be aware of that specific detail. The only problem was that the BAU had no physical evidence tying him to the crimes yet. The arrest had been sanctioned by higher authorities while physical proof was searched for. Police dogs and officers had been tearing through all of his possessions while Garcia had gone through his entire online life. Nothing tying him to the murders had been found.

The general public knew nothing of this, of course. To them, someone getting arrested meant they could go on with their usual lives. The man you'd been seeing left and right had left your mind entirely as you celebrated your regained freedom with your friends.

Of course, Spencer had warned you. They were 99% sure this was the unsub, they just needed the evidence. That didn't eliminate the 1% chance it wasn't him. But 99% chances were good enough for you. You trusted the BAU. Specifically, you trusted Spencer. With your life.

So you started living your life normally again. You left for class a little later because you didn't need to walk with your other friends. You stopped sharing your location with Spencer. You put the volume of your music higher again. You started leaving your pepper spray at home. You started texting while walking again.

Needless to say, you were wholly unprepared for the violent blow to your head as you walked to class one morning. How ironic, you thought as you blacked out, that Mary Goldman had probably experienced the same thing exactly two weeks prior.

Taglist : (all of you who asked for a part three <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina @venomsvl @user-3113s-blog @pumpkin-cake @redros3y @faunrasthewinterelf @puppykinsthepotato @bookishnerd1132 @bonza-bear @teeshamcbeesha @hades-disappointment-child @princesssparkle2024 @darlingcharling-blog @yasmin12312 @khxna @jamieeboulos

[vroomvroomwee]

Can we talk about this?

Because we seriously need to talk about it. This single scene is so so so so important. Both of them are doing something typically associated with romantic couples. He grabs her hand, kisses it, holds it close to his chest and looks directly into her eyes.

In any other piece of media that would have undoubtedly been a romantic gesture. But not these two. And that is just so fucking incredible. Personally, I didn't think I would ever see this type of platonic closeness in my lifetime. One where romantic or sexual attraction between both parties is completely thrown out the window.

That's just so goddamn important to have. And you know what makes this scene even more mind-blowing. It's that their relationship is a male-female one (I know the Doctor is non-binary, but rn he's presenting as male). AND where the woman is attracted to men and the man is attracted to women (be it allo or ace).

And there is ZERO possibility of a romantic relationship between them. How amazing is that? It's so important to have that. To show that men and women can be friends. That women are not objects or something to achieve. That men can have closeness with women without being attracted to them. That there can be love, pure deep love, between men and women, and it's no less than that between a romantic couple's one.

And it's not like that trope in movies that we so often see where the "ugly" "undesirable" "quirky" ones are single and have formed a relationship with other individuals because no one wants them. No no. Both of these people are absolutely stunning and still, there's no attraction.

Also, this will go a very very long way for the ace and aro communities. To know that the love you can give is no less powerful and not inferior to that of people who do experience romantic and sexual attraction.

These two are a fan favourite, if not THE fan favourite, duo of all Doctor Who and I just wish people will realise how wonderful and special platonic relationships can be.

[ferrarifinnick]

CHAIN OF ARMOUR | DAE-HO (PLAYER 388)

pairing: gentle!dae-ho x reader (and father figure!jung-bae x reader)

summary: with lights out approaching, there's a heavy feeling in your stomach. but dae-ho's right there to comfort you, and so is jung-bae and the rest of your group. warnings: angsty fluff, established relationship, allusion to sexual harassment, protector!dae-ho, fear, comfort, alliance (young-il, gi-hun, jung-bae), fatherly figure, jung-bae/dae-ho military roleplay.

2.3k words

an: this might be my favourite piece i’ve written for some time. it’s lengthier, so sweet it’ll melt your heart (it melted mine!), and say hello to the other characters for me would you? feedback and requests are always welcomed. enjoy! <3

“players, please prepare for bed. you have ten minutes until lights out.”

there was something in the air. something ugly and perverse, and you saw it every time you glanced to the other side of the hall. every time you made eye contact with a man. the hunger in their gaze wasn’t for food, but for you. maybe to the other women around you, too, but with the amount of eyes settling on you, it felt personal. targeted.

the longer you sat silent in the company of your group, the more you seemed to focus on the unease growing in your stomach. the more you seemed to catch the occasional word from the other side of the room. pretty girl, they said without enough worry about being discreet. so little, they whispered.

it’s only when you caught parts of their plans for you that the heat drained from your body, along with any semblance of confidence that you’d had earlier of surviving the night.

but maybe survival isn’t what you wanted if they did get ahold of you. maybe death is what you were really after. the guards, always eager to pull the triggers of their big black guns, but would they grant you that mercy? would they interfere with games? with the immorality threatening you from what felt like every corner?

the call of your name was gentle.

you glanced up and caught dae-ho’s soft eyes. the warmth returned so quickly to your body, you wondered if the sun had been made obsolete.

he sat opposite you on the benches your group settled around, lunch trays strewn messily over the floor as you finished up your supper.

“yes?” you replied, but the shakiness of your voice was evident even through one word.

dae-ho glanced down at your hand and you followed his gaze. your carton of milk a crumpled mess, squished to the point that milk oozed out the hole your straw poked through. you gasped at the milk trickling down your wrist, and quickly wiped your skin with the sleeve of your jacket.

he watched you with a frown, concern knitting his brows together. “are you alright?” he asked, the softness of his words tinged with the worry bubbling in his chest.

you nodded, too quickly to quash his suspicion, and the squeak of your “yes!” was the icing on the cake.

dae-ho sighed and pushed himself to his feet, crossing the small distance between you to settle at your side. he wordlessly used the sleeve of his own jacket to wipe up droplets of milk you hadn’t even realised had dropped onto the thighs of your sweatpants.

“you don’t need to worry,” he said quietly, close enough for only you to hear. he lifted the edge of his sleeve to your face and tilted your head to wipe up a little trickle of milk from your neck. “how hard were you squeezing?” he gasped quietly, brushing one final drop from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

you sheepishly lowered your head. he pressed his thigh against yours, a silent show of support, and his way of encouraging you to meet his gaze once more. you did, and nearly flinched at the worry that brought out the tiny fine lines in his forehead.

“i mean it,” he repeated. “i won’t let anything happen to you. not now, not ever.”

you wanted to believe him. you wanted to believe he could fight off all those men, all those who wished you harm. but he was only one man, and no matter how mighty and brave, no matter how hard he would fight for you, you knew he wasn’t a superhero. he couldn’t beat impossible odds, no matter how hard he would try to.

suddenly that feeling gnawed at your stomach again. you wanted to leap into dae-ho’s arms, let him shield you from the dark, scary world and the monsters you feared would get bold in the dark. but you couldn’t. you could only glance back across the hall, at the hungry gazes stuck on you like an angry, unrelenting wasp.

dae-ho called your name again, but this time you couldn’t look up. he repeated it, his hand lifting to catch your cheek, trying to block your view of the men. trying to refocus your attention to him, to the man who would stretch and tear himself into three, five, seven, however many bodies he needed to become your hero.

but it was jung-bae who got through to you. the short and stout man who warmly took you under his wing, who accepted you as a little chick in his bird nest, and who gave you a father figure in a place that felt far from home.

“you’re trembling like a leaf!” he gasped, his own hands plucking up yours, before leaning in closer to examine your face. he caught your chin in his fingers. “what is it, chicken? what’s bringing you such fright?”

his comfort drew you closer, and you shifted closer until your head fell against his shoulder. “i’m worried… about tonight,” you said, sneaking a nervous glance to the other side of the room.

the o’s. although they matched the numbers on your side, their presence was twice as ominous, and it would only be worse under the veil of darkness fast approaching. the tension slowly spread through your muscles, and suddenly it was no longer just your hands shaking. legs, arms, anything that could contract, trembling as you pictured the men across the room as only silhouettes. your thigh bumped into dae-ho’s, and he caught it with one of his big hands, holding it flush against his. he traced patterns over the cotton of your sweatpants.

but you were only growing more tense.

jung-bae gasped, pulling his hands from yours. “ow!” he cried, rubbing soothing circles into the palms of his hands, looking to you with surprise. “such strength in such a little girl!” he said, and you caught a glimmer of playfulness in his wide eyes.

your head sank sheepishly. “sorry, sir,” you apologised.

“and yet, the manners of a princess!” he exclaimed, approval rife in taking your hand to squeeze. he lifted it, shaking it along as he said, “a princess has no reason to fear with her noble guards around to protect her.”

you held his gaze and tried to smile, tried to believe him, tried not to think about the hungry gazes harassing you from the other side of the room. you couldn’t help but look up, see the danger targeted right at you in the licking of lips, in sly grins, and suddenly the shaking in your hands vibrated through jung-bae’s body.

“young-il!” suddenly your hand was swept in the direction of your newest ally, and jung-bae shook it as he said, “strong, clever, fierce.”

young-il nodded firmly, a confident smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he held your gaze, but you were quickly locking eyes with gi-hun as jung-bae warmly said, “gi-hun! loyal, determined, kind.”

the warmth of his eyes was all the convincing you needed, but gi-hun still reached out to squeeze your shoulder reassuringly. that’s the kind of man he was.

“jung-bae,” jung-bae said of himself, slapping your hand into his chest this time. “marine,” he said, lifting his other arm into a flex of his bicep, and while you saw no activation in the muscle, somehow it didn’t matter. it was the pride in his eyes, the conviction in his tone as he said, “wise as time,“ and you believed him. “and handsome as brad pitt.”

the widening of your eyes preceded your surprised giggle, but you couldn’t cover you mouth in time to suppress it.

jung-bae’s eyes blew wide again. “she laughs!” he accuses in mock disbelief, glancing between the other men in your group, before settling back on you. “many women say jung-bae is the one that got away!” he insists, but only grins wider as you stifle more of your little giggles.

your hand still in his thrown around again as he pretends to take offence, but he soon eases into calmness again, before leaning in closer.

“don’t forget, there are two marines here,” he said quietly, and you barely caught the flash of mischief in his eyes before he suddenly straightened his back, snapping his other hand into a click as he commanded “dae-ho!” with such authority that he jumped immediately to attention.

“yes, sir!” he shouted back, unflinching as his chopsticks crashed and clanged on the hard floor under his feet.

jung-bae’s chest swelled with approval. “are you afraid?!” he commanded.

“no, sir!”

“of men?”

“no, sir!”

“of the dark?”

“no, sir!”

you caught the sly smirk jung-bae shot you, before asking, “of jung-bae?”

“no, sir!”

his face dropped into a scowl, and he swatted a hand to the side of dae-ho’s shoulder, landing a blow right against the ink of his marine tattoo. dae-ho didn’t even flinch, back still straight and standing tall, his eyes fixed ahead with determination.

jung-bae asked one final question of him. “what of the men, the oh’s, behind you?”

a beat was not skipped when dae-ho sharply insisted, “no, sir!”

jung-bae slowly turned back to face you, a warm confidence as he said, “the dark is frightening. it’s where monsters live, where evil lurks. but what can defeat the dark?” he asked, leaning back ever so slightly to let you ponder, inviting you to look at the three other men in your alliance. each one stared back warm, kind, determined, and when jung-bae leant back in, you understood him when all he gently said was “light.”

you couldn’t seem to look away as dae-ho held your gaze, the quiet confidence radiating from his kind eyes, and suddenly the tension in your muscles faded away. the trembling of your hands subsided, and you weren’t gripping onto jung-bae’s hand so tightly.

dae-ho offered you sincerity when he promised, “they’ll have to get past us to get to you,” he said. “through me.”

he offered his hand out, and jung-bae lifted your hand to meet dae-ho’s. you took it, fingers interlocking as he gently but effortlessly pulled you up from the bench. he rested your entwined hands against his chest, leaning down to press a kiss to your skin. he gazed down into your eyes.

“i would set all the money in the world on fire to keep you safe,” he said so gently, you swore your knees would give out. “let me be your light,” he referenced jung-bae, nodding a head toward the cluster of your bunks. “stay with me tonight, in my bunk.”

you didn’t need to think about it. “please,” you whispered, holding onto his hands tighter.

the corners of his lips stretched into a smile softer than his breath on your knuckles as he kissed your hands again.

he climbed up the benches towards the bunks, stopping patiently after each step to turn and help you up. your legs were shorter than his, and he didn’t want to risk you catching your knee on a sharp corner and getting a bruise. but when you got to the ladder of his bunk, he dropped your hand to take purchase on your hips, lifting you with ease up the first few rungs.

he followed after you, glancing up and holding a hand out just in case you lost your footing.

“careful,” he warned as you approached the shelf of his bunk, rushing up the last few steps just to reach out and cover the sharp corner of the bunk above. you ducked your head under it, and his hand dropped to your lower back to help guide you in.

he joined you on the thin mattress after you settled down.

“are you cold?” he asked, fingers catching the zip of his jacket, waiting for your command.

“a little,” you admitted, but stopped him from declothing himself by placing a hand over the zipper on his chest. you lifted your eyes to find his. “can you lay with me? please.”

dae-ho’s gaze softened. “yeah,” he breathed gently, and you wondered where his voice had gone. he slowly lowered himself onto his back, one arm spreading out for you to curl up to his side. when you did, he closed his arm around your body and secured you in place. to him.

you nuzzled into his side. everything about him was so safe, and you wondered if it was the lingering scent of his shampoo or his gentle breathing that made your eyes heavy.

he held you, gentle but firm, while the others in your group climbed and settled into the surrounding bunks. the presence was suffocating in the best way. all around you, a friendly face, a willingness to shield you from danger, and for once in your life, a selection of men you could count on.

it dawned on you, like this, that jung-bae was right. the ease in your chest came down to the shield around you, the men willing to protect you for no reward, for no recognition. everything to gain by letting you get eliminated in the dark of night, and everything to lose by letting you live. but yet, they chose the latter. they chose to guard you. their princess.

and even as the lights turned out, when the shadows played tricks on your eyes, your hands didn’t tremble. they laced with dae-ho’s, who pulled you in closer, lips pressing against yours in a silent promise.

“i’ll see you in the morning,” he whispered.

as the heaviness in your eyelids became too much to fight off any longer, you took one last moment to savour the warmth radiating from his body. only then, with your head in his chest, the chill leaving your body, did you realise that yes, so long as dae-ho was here, the sun was obsolete.

i could sleep easy in dae-ho’s arms. please like, comment, reblog. love <3

[shrimpybbq]

rafe and high school gf's first mother's day

oh boy, where to begin

charlie was only a few months old when mother's day rolled around and high school gf was still in the adjustment stage with her little boy

she was crying a lot too, always sad and watching rafe stalk in and out of tannyhill, high and grumbling about things she couldn't understand

charlie wasn't sleeping through the night and it was all just too stressful for her - high school gf was definitely experiencing postpartum depression

she doesn't even realise that mother's day is coming up, never picking up on the hints and besides, she hadn't been going into town to see the cards and gifts out

it's sarah, rose, and wheezie who decide to do something for her. they know rafe won't do anything for her since he's off on a coke bender again, so they decide to cater in morning tea for the family and have a small celebration

high school gf woke up that morning to find wheezie insistent on playing with charlie, and so she lets her take him down to the living room

high school gf allows herself a well-earned shower, washing her hair and finally feeling somewhat normal. dressed, she gets ready to go downstairs only to have sarah knock at the door and accompany her downstairs

as the pair reach the living room, charlie and wheezie aren't in sight

"Wheezie took him outside, said the weather was nice," Sarah said.

the pair wandered outside only for high school gf to freeze at the decadent spread on the table, the balloons floating and the cake with the words 'happy mother's day' on it

"It's mother's day?" She asks quietly, voice wavering as her pent up emotions rose to the surface once more.

"Yeah! It's your first one so we wanted to do something special for you!" Wheezie exclaimed, running to hug the older girl.

the cameron's warily watch as high school gf's still for a moment, sarah beginning to panic as she notices the girl's lower lip begin to tremble

the family exchange wide-eyed glances as the new mother bursts into tears as she clings to wheezie, her sobs reverberating off the walls of tannyhill

they're all so confused until wheezie hears her mumble,

"Rafe isn't here,"

the young girl silently mouths 'rafe' to the other women, both realising what was making her so sad - rafe hadn't remembered the special day, and what's worse, he hadn't really acknowledged her much in the last month at all

high school gf was at her breaking point, so overwhelmed and sad, and the person who got her pregnant and put her in the situation in the first place hadn't even showed up

soon the cameron women surround her, bringing her to the table and comforting her as much as possible

it takes a while, but her tears stop and soon, the family eat pieces of the cake (the vibe is a little awkward, but sarah is doing her best to make high school gf laugh)

they've been outside in the sun for hours by the time ward returns back to the house, only to appear with a high rafe in tow. ward freezes at the sight of the group, taking in the words on the balloons. he can only sigh, balling up his fists at the realisation of the date

"Are you serious, Rafe?" Ward snipes, turning to face his son. He seethes, barely able to contain his anger at the continuous failures his son seems to bring upon him, "You can't even pull yourself together for one day."

Rafe looks at him hazily, his confusion clear. "Dad.. what are you talking about?"

Ward sighs once more, gripping his son's polo and dragging him towards the house. Before they pass through the door, he pauses and calls out to the sweet young girl watching, noticing her tears have begun to well up in her eyes again, "Happy Mother's Day, sweetheart."

Rafe's head turns to his girlfriend swiftly, eyes widening at the congratulations. He barely has a moment to process his mistake before his dad pulls him inside.

high school gf gives a sad smile to sarah and the younger girl immediately pulls her head down to rest on her shoulder, gently soothing her soft cries that have started up again. the whole table sits uncomfortably, wondering truly how someone so sweet and kind had ended up with rafe

they wish he would get clean for her and their son, but for now, all they can do is comfort her and try and make her day the best it can be (a rare moment that sarah and rose work together)

though her following mother's days were signficantly better and rafe actually remembered them, he always feels incredibly guilty at the memory of how he made her feel that day

@droppedyourhnd sorry this has taken so long to get out!

i've been taking a little break over xmas, but hoping to write a bit more now

[gothmoes]

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐎𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐚 𝐡𝐜𝐬

❥ pairing: Jenna Ortega x fem!Reader

❥ wc: 2,2k

❥ warnings: long, rambly, and self-indulgent 🫶 no actual ending to wrap this up, will just come back to this when I get new ideas to add.

Jenna is spoiled rotten, and it is no one else's fault than yours. She wants your touch, warmth, kisses, and attention—and she knows she will always get them.

Jenna tries not to be so needy (not really), but now that you’re hers to claim, she can’t help but want to be in your bubble constantly. That girl would live in your skin if she could.

Jenna is highly affectionate. Not only is she hungry for your affection, but she also freely gives you hers. You name it: hugs, kisses, cuddles, bites, licks (she is particularly fond of licking your face and biting you wherever she can reach, for some reason). If it means she will touch you somehow, she will do it.

Velcro girlfriend, in other words.

If Jenna lies somewhere, she calls you over to lie on her. Your weight is like a heated blanket; she loves playing with your hair and caressing your face as you drift to sleep on her chest or soft tummy. It’s a good way to bond when she's reviewing a script or reading a book.

She has a habit of coming up behind you and nuzzling into your back, prompting you to turn and scoop her into your arms. 

Height difference is a huge plus! Jenna loves to be smothered by you when you hold her, to drown in your fragrance and melt into the safety of your embrace.

She is very touchy. Not only affectionate-touchy but “will grope you as she passes by you with no particular purpose than to make you squirm” touchy.

She loves to play with your hands. No reason; she loves how your hand envelopes hers and your fingers fit together like puzzle pieces. 

Not a napper, or rather, was not a napper until she discovered paradise in your arms. Now, being held by you triggers an instant rush of oxytocin and melatonin that, coupled with the thump of your heartbeat and your warmth, knocks her out within minutes.

Jenna is kind of a baby when sick, but it's your fault. She wasn't like that until you came in and started babying her. She used to be independent and treat her illnesses in a very mechanical and detached way because it was nothing more than a setback from work. Now, she can't imagine having a cold and spending her quarantine without your tender touches. 

Same thing when she’s PMSing. The more time you spend caring for her, the better quicker she feels.

Jenna has an insane staring problem—always has and always will. She can’t help but stare at you like you hung up all the stars in the sky; she’s so lucky she has you. Her adoration is ever present in her eyes. It’s one of the reasons it’s so tricky for her to have you around when she’s supposed to be focused. She looks too giddy and happy to hide. 

Don’t get her started on your smell—she’s one of those freaky women who inhales you any chance she gets. She loves the way you smell so much. It’s like her entire nervous system instantly relaxes whenever she catches a whiff of you.

Jenna is not huge on stereotypical nicknames. She prefers to have a few significant ones for each other that you probably come up with after an important experience or memory. Hell, she even takes inspiration from her favourite songs. However, she is partial to how “Angel” rolls off your tongue, and she will occasionally slip up with a “Babe” now and again.

Jenna lives in your clothes. The majority of your wardrobe is with her at all times. You might wonder where your favourite hoodie is just to get a photo of her lounging in it five minutes later.

Jenna is a certified yapper with you. She naturally is, but most people don’t get this version of her because she doesn’t feel uncomfortable being herself around them. You are more than happy to hear her speak her mind about any topic she can think of, finding peace in how her eyes light up and excitement laces her voice when she realises she has your undivided attention. 

This woman will babble about the randomest topics, even as she drifts to sleep. It’s incredibly endearing, and she never fails to make you laugh with the strange things that endlessly pop into her pretty little head. She doesn’t even need to try to be funny most of the time; she just is.

Jenna is very supportive of you and your goals. Ideally, she wants you to travel the world with her, which is doable if you study through an online program or work a remote job.

If, due to your goals, you don’t have the availability to go with Jenna for long periods and you’re mainly doing long-distance, things get a bit more complicated. Still, Jenna is 100% invested as long as you are. 

She is a terrible texter, BUT she does try for you! You can't say she doesn't. The problem is that she doesn’t typically send text messages. Instead, you receive a constant stream of photos updating you on what she’s doing, where she is, who she’s with, what she’s eating, what she’s wearing, what she’s not wearing, etc, with no follow-up. Most of the time, she sends them in faster succession than you can keep up with.

The second common way of communication between you is FaceTime. It’s simply more convenient than texting, given her lifestyle. AND she needs to see you constantly for mental health reasons. 

When she does text, Jenna makes your heart swoon. She might not be the best at sending you a “Good Morning” text every day at the crack of dawn (those timezone differences have her fucked up). Still, she never misses an opportunity to show you how much she loves and thinks of you. Sometimes, her messages are a little poem she came up with while thinking of you or a song and some lyrics she heard that remind her of you with no explanation other than “this is you <3”.

She often sends you voice notes and videos to make you smile. Hearing her lovely voice and seeing her angelic face is always a delightful surprise.

This woman is incredibly cheeky. She loves to flirt with and tease you. Sometimes, she does it to get a laugh out of you, and other times, she does it to get a rise out of you. (She gets a big head about eliciting your reaction every single time without fail.)

Jenna is not a great cook, although she grew up with delicious homemade meals. The main reason is that she simply doesn't have the time to hone her skills in the kitchen. Lord knows she tries, though! She expectantly stares at you with those sweet doe eyes and hesitant smile, and you never have the heart to shoot down her efforts. 

Despite Jenna’s chatty nature, one of the things she deeply appreciates about you and your relationship is that she takes repose in your silence. She can talk until she tires but knows that she can also exist near you quietly when she needs to without you expecting her to fill in the silence out of discomfort. Her tranquillity with you is unlike anything she’s ever felt. She cherishes those moments as much as any other because your silence is just as precious.

You are the subject of lots of photos! Jenna photographs what she loves, so roughly 30% of her storage is photos of you, while another 30% accounts for photos you’re in, like couple selfies and other lovey-dovey stuff. (The rest has been quickly overtaken by Fig.)

Jenna loves driving, but she also loves being your passenger princess because it’s peaceful sitting beside you, your thumb rubbing small circles over her thigh or her hand clasped in yours with the hum of the car lulling her into a nap. 

She loves taking baths together. To melt into your body and forget the pressures of the day. 

Date nights are random and spontaneous. Jenna’s schedule is too erratic most of the time for you to nail something down permanently. Regardless, they are enjoyable, a great time to bond and let the world disappear. You both love to explore new cities and get lost together. It’s an excellent way to discover new hang-out spots and restaurants, but you also have homebody moments. Sometimes, all you really need is to be in your bubble, sharing a warm meal, wine, and ice cream. Either way, you always laugh and make out wherever you are. 

Movie nights CONSTANTLY. If they’re not your thing, then they’re simply something you do to indulge Jenna, which becomes a bonding ritual you relish.

Jenna worries about you when you’re apart from each other. She likes to be updated when you have important things going on to avoid overthinking and getting anxious for you.

You’re her madness and peace all wrapped into one, and Jenna is not shy about showing you her true colours; you get all of her, and she expects to get all of you. 

Jenna is not a morning person. If she has a day free, she expects to enjoy being able to sleep in; otherwise, she wakes up cranky and glaring at everything and everyone. Nothing a long cuddle and some well-placed kisses can’t fix. Even when she wakes up for work, she stays quiet. It takes her a while to fully wake up, but by the time she gets to work, she’s usually her bubbly self again. 

She’s not a big spender on herself. She is not interested in things but loves spending money on you. 

Jenna low-key tries to impress you, not with her acting, because she dislikes you seeing her act, but with her outfits. You’ve never gone to her fittings because she loves to get your first reaction the day of.

She loves to make you laugh, and it's very easy for her because she's odd. She is absolutely delightful, though, and her unique sense of humour has always been one of the things you most adore about her. 

She loves celebrating you in any way she can, but she prefers to do it privately and intimately. Birthdays, holidays, Valentine’s Day, National Girlfriend Day, she never forgets those dates, and she takes pride in showing you her appreciation for you. She also loves to be on the receiving end of your celebratory plans for her. You go all out and have never let her down. (Things might be becoming a bit competitive, though.)

Jenna makes you endless playlists for all sorts of events and moods, but she gets emotional when you do the same for her. It makes her feel vulnerable in the best way that you know her as well as you do.

When she’s upset, she’s not a huge talker. The main thing she needs is your physical comfort, to know that you’ll hold her and let her soften into you, and she can lose herself in your embrace because you’ll shield her from the world. She does open up eventually when she feels more regulated, but normally, she stays in your lap while you discuss her issues. 

People know you’re dating. It’s easy to hide if you’re doing the long-distance thing because no one but her sees you, but when you start travelling with her, Jenna can’t hide how happy it makes her to have you around. You blend in easily with her crew, but a few detectives start putting 2+2 together and scrutinize you until she slips up. Which she does. It might be much later than expected, but it still surprises people. 

Jenna is not huge on PDA because she doesn’t like sharing your thing with everyone, but that doesn’t mean that she’s good at avoiding it. She prefers to keep you and your relationship out of the spotlight because you’re precious to her, and she values your wish to keep your relationship private, but sometimes, she can’t help herself. The few photos circulating the internet where you’re holding hands or kissing are all due to the fact that she couldn’t keep her hands to herself for long enough to avoid it. 

When Jenna gets anxious, she needs you. It doesn't happen often, but it does. A hug, a handhold, just you. It’s not that she expects you to automatically “fix” her; she would never burden you with that responsibility. It’s just that your presence truly is that comforting. Being around you gives her the strength to regulate herself, especially when you’re being closed in by paps or invasive fans. That foreboding feeling that triggers her to be in survival mode feels less menacing and overwhelming when you squeeze her hand or shield her from prying eyes. 

Jenna is not a jealous person, but she does get jealous. She trusts you wholly and knows you would never intentionally make her jealous or disrespect her. Still, other people don’t value your relationship the same way. More often than she’d like, Jenna has had to deal with people who are so drawn to you that they’ll openly flirt with you in front of her. She begrudgingly has to admit to herself that she can’t blame people too much, though—you are remarkable and magnetic and so breathtakingly gorgeous. She understands why people want your attention so much, but damn if it doesn’t make her blood boil.

She is very playful and such a tease, but she cannot take what she dishes out for the life of her. As soon as you give her a taste of her medicine, she simply... shuts down and stares.

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @freakshow2501

[clare-875]

First Kiss (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Ace, Law)

_____ Pairings: (Separate) Luffy x Reader; Sanji x Reader; Zoro x Reader; Ace x Reader; Law x Reader Summary: How he becomes your first kiss. Warnings: Kissing, Fluff, Slight angst in Law's, Alcohol in Zoro's, Female Reader [One Piece Masterlist] _____

- Luffy -

"Hmmmmmm." You feel the heat rush to your face as your raven-haired Captain looks at you intently, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Hmmmmmm." You can't help the laugh that bubbles up at his unusually quiet and contemplative demeanour but that only causes him to come closer, leaving barely any space between your faces. "L-Luffy... what is it?" You watch as he stares deeply into your eyes and there is quiet for a moment. It is like your crewmembers, who are supposedly scattered around the vicinity have disappeared. Your heart beats faster. You have tried to ignore the growing feelings for your Captain, but being this close can only cause your smothered emotions to ignite. "I wanna try something." He says, a determined expression on his face and you tilt your head in question. Just what was he wanting to- Your thoughts are cut short as Luffy moves forward and closes the space between you. It takes you a moment to realise, that his lips are on yours.

He’s kissing you.

Your eyes widen, but Luffy parts from you before you can even react. You are met with his wide grin and you have never seen such delight in his eyes. "Shi shi shi, you taste nice [y/n]." You have to force yourself not to gape in your disbelief. Someone kissed you. Not just someone... Luffy, your Captain, your crush, what- "Luffy! You- you-," Your words are stuttered out in your shock but Luffy simply laughs at your expression before mimicking the tilt of your head earlier. "I thought that's what you do to the person you like?" His words cut you short of your rambling as your surprise increases tenfold. He likes me? Was that a confession? "I- I haven't kissed someone before," you say under your breath but Luffy catches your words and it only causes his smile to widen. "Me neither!" You find yourself leaning forward at the proclamation, and he grins as he does the same.

- Sanji -

You lean back, admiring your creation with a wide grin. Finally. You had been working hard all morning to create Sanji's favourite dish as a thank you for having saved your ass about a week ago. But in your mind, you also just wanted to do something nice. Sanji always doted on the women of the crew and you would be happy to return the favour even if it was just this one time. You would also be lying to say you hadn't gained feelings for the love-lost cook, but you knew how stupid it would be; he didn't seem like someone who had his eyes trained on one woman at a time. You couldn't help it though, and among your feelings, you suddenly felt nervous. You had conjured up a dish for, basically, the best cook in the world; you hoped he would like it... you hoped he would appreciate it. Unbeknownst to you, the cook your mind drifts to has already entered the kitchen, eyes widening in surprise at your presence so early in the day, and more importantly a familiar dish your gaze was trained on.

"Love, what have you made so early in the morning?" Your heart pounds. Love, you adored that nickname, he kept it just for you. "S-Sanji! It's for you, a thank you, I-I hope you like it..." Your words are smothered in nerves but the cook is stunned to silence. You made something for him? Was he dreaming? Was this heaven? He almost starts crying and your eyes widen at his lingering tears before you usher him gently to the dish; of course, what fills the air is compliments on compliments. "The best thing I've ever tasted", "Beautiful", "Thank you", "Would you like to taste-" You don't know where you find the courage but among his ramblings, your gaze wonders to his lips, and before you know it you have stepped forward. "L-love?" When you close the space between you both, only a split second can pass before Sanji basically malfunctions. However, in that short moment, you taste his sweet lips, lingering with the dish you made and the faint tint of a cigarette. You savour the feeling of his trembling hands as they reach for your arms in anticipation. You hold on to his shaky breath as he fights to reciprocate.

When you part, your eyes widen as you realise the breadth of what you have just done. It was your first kiss. You had really kissed him. But your concern is now not on the kiss but on the cook who is basically dead on the floor, murmuring about going to heaven. Yes, you have to shout for Chopper afterwards, but in the aftermath, Sanji does his best to return the favour... well, without dying at your feet again.

- Zoro -

You watch as Zoro downs another bottle of sake and can almost laugh at the expression on his face; it is his fifth and still, he is calling for more. You nurse your own drink in an appropriately sized cup as Zoro turns a sharp eye to you, "What are you smiling about?" You grin teasingly but shake your head, "Nothing, I'm just wondering how far you'll go before you have to stop drinking." Zoro smirks widely at your words and takes another swing of his bottle. "Is that a challenge?" He asks before leaning closer to you, and you have to fight the heat that wants to rush to your cheeks. Even in the dimly lit bar you sat at, he is still so handsome. You watch his defined face and his well-built muscles glow under the low lights and have to fight to keep your eyes on his face. I wonder how it would feel to- "N-nah, we'll be here for decades." You murmur with a roll of your eyes, trying to keep up your nonchalant facade, but Zoro spots your wondering gaze. His grin widens subtly as he invades more of your space and you struggle to keep your proximity as he leans in closer. "See something you like, doll?"

When you look up he is hovering over you and you fail to keep the fluster at bay. You stutter words that take no shape, and in an instant one hand goes to hold your face before he closes the space between you. Immediately, you taste the alcohol that lingers on his lips intrude yours, and you are surprised at how soft and slow and gentle he is. The kiss is short, and when you part you look at the swordsman in stunned silence, but he merely grins before leaning back into his seat once more. "You- You just-," you stutter and despite Zoro’s sharp eye as he looks to you, there is mirth in his irises, "Yeah, what about it?" His words are so blunt you suddenly feel as though the kiss hadn't meant as much to him, even though it was your first, but you are surprised when he quickly catches your dismay. "I don't just kiss anyone, you know." He interrupts the lingering silence and you look up, only to see his face close to yours once more. "You're drunk," you murmur your heart beating faster as he inches closer, "I don't get drunk, doll." You taste the alcohol on his lips again.

- Ace -

You glance at the horizon in awe as shades of red and orange mingle in the blue sky and sunset takes over the long day. To your right, you suddenly feel warmth, as a presence comes to lean on the railings with you to watch the falling sun. You don't even have to turn to know that it is Ace. You smile softly but your eyes are still trained on the illuminance of the sky. "Isn't it beautiful?" You softly utter before finally turning your gaze to the second division commander, but to your surprise, he was looking at you already. "Yeah, beautiful..." His words are murmured and you think you're hallucinating when you see genuine awe in his irises but you have to roll your eyes at his remark. "You really couldn't have picked a cheesier line Ace." You say as you tease his choice of words, but Ace keeps that determined look in his eyes, that shine of pure honesty. "I'm just telling the truth." Your heart hammers erratically in your chest, and you curse the way he so easily influences the rhythm; how he so easily influences you. There is a long comfortable silence, though untold feelings linger beneath it, but when you look up to meet his gaze again, you are surprised to find him closer to you than before.

"Can I kiss you, [y/n]?"

His question is asked so bluntly that you are taken aback. Your eyes widen in surprise, and you watch the way red seeps onto Ace’s cheeks, nerves engulfing him. His irises flicker in subtle desire as he tries to keep your gaze. You think your lungs have ceased to work as you struggle to get the oxygen going. "I- I-" You want to tell him you might be bad at it, that you've never kissed a soul, but you stop yourself from breaking the trance that lingers between the two of you. Your nerves have taken over and so you find yourself nodding. When he closes the distance, you feel utter warmth. His lips are soft as he pulls you impossibly closer and you feel the delight in his movements; you feel the longing. His arms hold you to him and one of his hands caresses your hips soothingly whilst yours tangle themselves in his raven locks. The kiss lasts only a few moments, but you wish it would go on forever; when you part, it is only because the both of you need air. When you open your eyes he is grinning at you so wide, it is like you presented him with the world's greatest treasures, and in some ways that was true; you were all he wanted. He lets you take in a breath, before he leans towards your lips again, warmth lingering and the faint sound of the crew cheering behind you.

- Law -

You sit on the bed, slightly mortified, and terribly embarrassed. You curse yourself for having agreed to participate in the game 'never have I ever,' because of course, you had to be that boring person, never drinking because you had done basically nothing. The last straw was when Shachi tried to do you a solid but embarrassed you further when he asked if you had kissed someone. Of course, seeing as you hadn't, the crew looked in silence as you held your untouched drink sheepishly in your hands, their mouths agape in shock. "What?!" "[y/n] you mean to tell me, you haven't kissed someone before?" The comments lingered on and now you wonder why you didn't lie; no one would've known better. Moments pass before you hear a knocking at your door, and you contemplate pretending you're asleep but you sigh at the repetitive rhythm and decide to answer. To your surprise, it is your Captain, and the man you unfortunately had a significant crush on that was on the other side.

"Law... what's up?"

You try to keep up a nonchalant facade like you haven't just been tearing apart your mind because of the events of the evening. Law returns your half-hearted smile with a blank look on his face as he sighs deeply. "Don't give me that [y/n]-ya, what happened back there?" His question leaves you wanting to melt to the floor as you remember back to how you hastily tried to leave the room with your abundance of excuses. "I don't know what you're-" But his words interrupt yours, more gently than you would've expected. "Is this about Shachi's question, you know it's just a stupid game? It's normal not to have kissed someone yet." You internally cringe as you hear your Captain's words but now your eyes are trained on the floor as you sigh, almost withering under the weight of his attempted comfort. "I didn't think it was just a big deal. I- I guess I was just saving it, you know?" You watch as Law's usually darkened eyes ignite before he spares you a knowing smile. "I know." His eyes travel from your eyes to your lips and you are surprised to see the faint blush that reaches his face. "You know, [y/n]-ya, I didn't drink either." You pause as you look up, eyes widening in surprise and disbelief. "Wh- Law what are you-" But he interrupts your rambling as he closes the space between you, now mere inches before your face.

"Can I kiss you [y/n]-ya?"

You take in a shuddering breath. What's happening? Are you dreaming? Is this really happening? You can't find the words and so you slowly nod, and Law wastes no time connecting his lips to yours. His lips are soft and gentle, his movements almost tempting the new sensation shared between the both of you, but a mere moment passes before you find the rhythm and he intensifies the kiss. His hands reach for your waist and your hands reach for his hair. There is a long moment shared between you before you finally reach for a breath. He looks up to you with a gentle smirk that has your heart beating faster, and you take the courage to close the space between you once more. Nevertheless, when Law tells you to rejoin the group, you are both able to drink to Shachi's question and stare amusedly at the crew who look between you and Law with shock.

[writingsbychlo]

A THIN LINE | LORENZO BERKSHIRE

SUMMARY: there's a pretty thin line between hate and love and enzo is coming right up against it. WORD COUNT: 2782 NOTES: this might actually be one of my favourite pieces I've written, can't say why? I just realised I was in love with it as I wrote it so I hope you all love it too!

Lorenzo Berkshire hated Valentine’s Day. 

He hated commitment, he hated romance, he hated the idea of a stupid day dedicated to public announcements of love stories that would most likely end in tragedy. He hated the concept of monogamy, but if he dug deeper, he could probably sum that up to some kind of traumatic backstory. 

He didn’t like to disguise himself by his parents, he was his own damn person and he wasn’t like them, but a therapist would probably say otherwise. Somewhere between the emotionally abusive mother who was so dedicated to his adulterous, physically abusive father that their only son’s wellbeing fell to nothingness, well, a therapist would probably have something to say about that. 

Suffice it to say, that Lorenzo Berkshire didn’t do love. 

He did sex. He did it well. He was charming and flirty and he knew exactly how good-looking he was. With his perfect hair and his pretty smile and the gazes that made men and women alike go weak in the knees. He knew how to get what he wanted, and it worked on everyone he set his mind to. 

He didn’t do love. 

At least, this inner turmoil was exactly what he was trying to convince himself of as he lay on his back, still flushed a soft pink along his face and chest. His lungs were still burning a little to catch his breath, and his muscles were sore in the most exquisite way, his body thrumming in the aftershock of pleasure. 

He was always on Theodore’s arse about his smoking habits, but he wished he had one now. Maybe it would be something else to do with his hand rather than keep stroking your hair, maybe it would be something to do with his mouth to stop him leaning in and pressing another kiss to the top of your head as you lounged on his chest. 

You stirred, your leg flexing where it was thrown over his own, soft skin that had been perfumed with florals and sugars that had made his head spin was still soft as it slid against his own. He could still feel the warmth of your skin against his lips, the pulse of your racing heartbeat when he’d kissed across your neck. 

He’d left marks. You hated when he did that, but he couldn't help himself. Some deep, sick, twisted part of himself got a thrill out of the fact you’d spent Valentine’s Day with him. Even if he hated it, everyone else would know. You could scrub away his touch and layer new perfumes over the smell of his cologne on your body, you could change your clothes and sneak back to your dorm with an excuse to the girls waiting up for gossip, but you would never be able to hide the blossoming prints he left with his mouth, or the swell of your lips, or the tremble in your step from the way he’d fucked you. 

No. That would stick with you for days. 

You shifted again, groaning a little as you stretched, and Enzo’s heart dropped in his chest. Only moments later, you lifted your head, and scrunched your nose up in that adorable way as you came back around. 

“Did I fall asleep again?”

His lips twitched up at the edges, and he popped a hand behind his head, peering down at you. Twisting that smile into a smirk, he shrugged. “I guess I just wore you out.”

You laughed lightly, a sound that he wanted tattooed to the inside of his mind, a sound he wanted to set as his ringtone, his alarm clock, to hear every morning and every night. That, and the way you so reverently whispered his name when he’d kissed you hours ago. 

It went this way every time. He’d slip you a note, or you’d give him a coy look across the room. Sometimes, it started with a party. It didn’t really matter how it started, only that it ended with the two of you stumbling into bed, your soft moans in his ear as he buried his face into your neck, the breathy call of his name as he sent you to paradise over and over. For almost a year this arrangement had been going on, and at first, he hadn't been sure why it was you he kept coming back to. Why you made him break his one-night-only rule so many times he’d lost count. 

But then he’d just given up caring. 

Now, he just let himself sink further, he could no longer see the surface. He just waited for the rays of your sunlight to break through the ripples, to warm him as he lay on the bottom of the lake, drowning over and over again. 

Hours ago the sun had risen, when you’d shyly asked him what his plans for the night were, and promised to come by later when he confirmed he had none. Now, he was waiting for the sun to set once again. 

You’d say something like—

“I should get going, it’s getting late and my roommates will start to wonder where I am.”

There it was. 

He fought to keep the grin on his face, not to let it show. Instead, he just nodded, taking a moment longer to convince the arm banded tightly around your waist to let go. Slipping away, he fisted his hand into the sheets instead, watching as you rolled away from his side He felt cold where you left, and tugged up the covers a little more to cover himself, like suddenly he was too exposed to let you see him if you turned. 

He let his gaze sweep over you, open and adoring while your back was turned. Gathering up your clothes, you didn’t look back at him until you were tugging your t-shirt back over your head. Twisting on your heel to look at him, you let a smile crawl up your face. 

“What are you looking at?”

“You.” He said before he could stop himself. With a chastising groan, he rolled back into the bed, turning his back to you and rubbing a hand down his face. You laughed again, that sound would be his undoing, he was sure, and then your smaller hand was crawling over his shoulder. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. I thought it was sweet.”

He wasn’t embarrassed the way you thought he was, but you were giving him an out, and he would damn sure take it. He just nodded, bashfully, an act he’d gotten good at putting on, and swung his legs over the bed. Swiping his boxers from the floor, he tugged them up, and let his elbows rest on his knees as he sat back on the mattress. 

There was a question tugging at his lips as he watched you free your hair from the collar of your shirt. You were so beautiful and so kind. Everything you did felt like the acts of a saint to him, you could be a religion and he’d fall to his knees to worship. You did something to him, something he’d never felt before. It was all-consuming, life-altering, suffocating and terrifying. And the longer he stared, the harder it became to hold back the words clawing up his throat. Until he gave up fighting it. Something he seemed to be getting a little too good at these days. 

“Why were you alone this evening?” The words broke out, the sound of his own ragged voice shattering the peaceful silence in his room. The smile on your face melted away, you weren’t mad or hurt, just neutral, perhaps even curious, as you shrugged. 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” He pushed, and you only stared, a piercing gaze that cracked him in two with ease. You wanted an answer, and he wanted to give you anything you wanted. “I don’t like Valentine’s Day. I think it’s a contrived attempt to get money out of poor suckers who don’t understand that it’s probably never going to last anyway.”

You only blinked at him, registering his words, before your lips twitched at the side, and you offered him a small smirk. “Wow. Someone certainly hates love.”

Love. 

There was that word, that one that made him feel like there was a rope around his neck, a hand wrapped around his heart, choking the life out of him. “But to answer your question, I wasn’t alone this evening. I was with you.”

“I’m sure I wasn’t your first plan.” He wouldn't get his hopes up, he refused to let something so poisonous into his mind willingly, “I bet you were hoping a nice lad would ask you out, take you for dinner and woo you, before taking you back to his dorm, buy your affections. Instead, they missed out, and here you are, giving to me freely.”

There was a bite to his voice, and your brows furrowed. Perhaps he’d pushed it too far, it wouldn't be the first time, you’d leave and ignore him for a day or two and he would convince himself the world wasn’t ending. Then, he’d pull you into some hidden corner and kiss apologies into your mouth as he soothed away your anger. 

You just shook your head at him and stayed silent, and somehow that was worse. 

“Right. Okay. Well, then, I’m leaving if we’re done here. I’ll get right on looking for that nice guy.”

He watched you walk, and felt his heart rate ratchet up with every step you took closer to the door, to leaving, and this time, it was all just too much. This time, he kicked off the sandy lake floor and swam for the surface. “Don’t.”

He’d shot to his feet, so fast he felt dizzy as you turned to face him, and you only raised a brow in silent question. 

“Don’t… go. Or don’t find a nice guy. I’m sorry, I’ll be nicer. I don’t know what I— just… don’t.” 

Your fingers twitched on the door handle as he cursed himself for his rambling mess. He’d never stumbled his way through a stance like that before, he was normally the smooth one. Now, he felt sick, and anxious, fizzes and pops of cold anxiety he could feel all the way to his fingertips as he waited. 

Your hand tightened around the door handle, before sliding away. 

“What do you want from me, Enzo?” You sounded tired as you sighed the words out, and he didn’t want that exhaustion to be because of him, it sounded bone-deep and emotional. But, he knew it was. “Give me a reason to stay, to stay with you. Because it’s Valentine’s Day, and here I am, spending it with you. My first choice. I chose you over romance and flowers and being made to feel special. I chose you and your bedsheets over a pretty dress and compliments. I chose you, and yet, all you’re doing is pushing me away.”

“I’m sorry.” His hand clutched at his chest, rubbing at the place just left of his sternum where it ached inside, his throat stinging. “I don’t know what I want. I just… I want you to stay. I want to know you’ll stay, and that you won’t be with someone else. I want you all the fucking time, it’s not normal! I want you by my side, I want you to keep laughing at my jokes and nobody else, I want you to kiss me and get me to shut up, because I can’t find the words to say it, all I know is how I feel, and—”

You did as he asked, much to his surprise. Your nails pressed lightly into the sides of his neck as you kissed him, nibbling on his lower lip cheekily. His hands slipped once again around your waist, and the tight pressure that felt like it had been slowly leeching his life away finally subsided. 

He stole kisses, again and again, until you were making that angelic sound he loved and pulling back. 

“Say it again.”

“What, all of it? I can’t remember it all.” He mumbled, in a daze, swaying closer to bump his nose into yours. 

“No, just the part about having feelings for me.”

He raised a hand, so big compared to you, and brushed it over the side of your head, holding you gently. Godric, did you have any idea how precious you were to him? No, because that would require him actually saying it. “Of course I have feelings for you, honey. I just don’t know what they are. They’re fucked up, mean and possessive. I want all your time, I want all your attention. I want to punch other guys when they’re near you, I want to smell your fucking hair like some kind of sap, I want to keep you locked by my side until the end of the fucking world so no one else can get to you because you’re… mine.”

You didn’t recoil, you didn’t scare off. Instead, you chuckled at him, blinking up at him with amusement like he’d told another joke. He wasn’t perfect in this moment, he was exposed and ragged and raw. He was the most vulnerable, open version of himself, and you should be running. 

But you weren’t. 

“Enzo, you really don’t know what that is? It’s exactly what I feel too.” The breath was rushed from him, as you took his hand and rested it over your heart, leaning in to kiss his cheek between breathy laughs. “You stupid, endearing man. There’s nothing wrong with you, Enzo.”

“There’s not?”

“No.” You smiled, pecking his lips again, and his eyes fluttered closed, lips puckering to chase your kiss because just for half a second, it felt so different. “You know the name. Four little letters. Don’t let it freak you out too much.”

Love.

It did freak him out. It made him want to spiral and scream and tear at his hair. It made him want to rage and cry and kick something. But, you were still here. So, perhaps, it also made him want to hold you tight, protect you from the world, spend the rest of his life devoted to you and spring you. It was crippling and horrid, and intoxicating.

“I love you.” He mumbled, and this time, your eyes did widen. Just for a second. But he said it again, let the words sit heavy in his mouth, let himself get used to the feel of them. He’d never said it before. Not to his parents, his friends, or even a pet. But the more he said it, the less power it had over him. It stopped feeling like a gun to his head but felt more like a baby bird in his hands. Precious, fragile, a living gift to be protected, not a death sentence. “I love you.”

He wasn’t sure how many times he’d said it now, but it seemed you believed him, as you threw your arms around his neck. Shiny eyes closing, hot tears leaking down your cheeks and your kiss tasted of salt this time, but he didn’t mind. Not as he wiped those tears away, and kissed you back with everything he had. 

He hoped you could still hear the words running through his mind, even as his mouth was occupied. Could you feel his love in this kiss, did it feel different to you too, now?

Huh. Hope.

Maybe that wasn’t so bad either. 

He got it now, with the smile on your face, the way the simplest of things, a few murmured words, a few sounds and syllables strung together had created that look of sunshine. The kind of ethereal blessing that made him feel like he’d been absolved, a miracle that chased out the dark. He got it. 

Perhaps now he understood why people enjoyed the chance to proclaim their love, to make hopeful promises for the future in a desperate plea to ensure it happened. He would do it too, next year. He’d make sure there was a next year to celebrate, and one after that, and that, and onwards. 

As you kissed him, and your lips brushed his own softly as you mumbled those words back into his mouth, he got it. His hand slipped up, tangling in your hair and his mouth slanted across your own, drowning in the taste of heaven on your tongue as you slipped it along his lower lip, he got it. 

There was a thin line between love and hate. Lorenzo Berkshire loved you, and maybe, now, he could love Valentine’s Day too. 

[burningembers91]

Rare - The Salesman x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up piece to:

Freak of Nature

On Display

A Game of Cat and Mouse

Crime of Passion

Synopsis: The Salesman wants to play a game with you. But when he changes the rules, so do you

A/N: I am immensely proud of this series. It’s unlike anything I’ve written before and I love exploring the darker sides of characters. This particular fic is probably my favourite so far. I wanted to thank everyone for the frankly mind boggling love I have received on all my fics so far. Thank you ❤️

It had been two weeks since your mysterious man in the grey suit had saved you. Two weeks since you’d given in to your desires. The day after he fucked you so hard that your bed slats broke, an entirely new bed arrived. One with a plush, cream, fabric headboard and a mattress that felt like you were sleeping on a cloud sent straight from heaven.

His heroics in the alleyway, the transition from something psychological to physical had changed the dynamics of your relationship. He didn’t want to admit it, but he could feel himself falling under your spell. It was a constant struggle to maintain the upper hand, to continue the illusion that you were entirely at his mercy. But you both knew it was a mutual torture, that each of you had the other twisted so deliciously around your respective fingers. The other night he had come so close to telling you his name. It had been so long since he’d spoken it, he wasn’t entirely sure he knew what is was anymore. But there was something about you, something deliciously dark bubbling after your soft, shea scented skin. You could be the death of him, this beautiful femme fatale. He wasn’t quite ready to relinquish control to you though; he still wanted to try and break you.

You received a phone call one day, requesting your attendance at an incredibly high end dress store in Myeong-Dong. As you made your way through the doors, the eye watering price tags made your jaw drop. You could never in a thousand lifetimes afford a dress like this; but you knew someone who could.

You were whisked into a private area, where several women with tape measures took measurements of your body. They didn’t speak to you, didn’t answer any of your questions. You were there less than five minutes, after being instructed to return to the store the next day to pick up your purchase.

“But I didn’t order anything,” you exclaimed, “can you just tell me what’s going on.”

“Our client is very discreet,” the store manager responded. “Please arrive promptly tomorrow to collect your purchase.”

You couldn’t text Mr Grey Suit to ask him what he was up to. You still weren’t privy to any personal information about him, including his phone number. He didn’t come to see you that night, leaving you to stew in your own thoughts about what he could have possibly ordered you.

The next day, you arrived at the time requested, and were once again greeted by the store manager who handed you a dress bag, with a note attached. I will see you tonight, 7pm. DO NOT LOOK IN THIS BAG UNTIL THEN. I will know if you do. You headed home, desperate to look inside the bag. You didn’t dare though, you had absolutely no doubt he would know if you took a peek.

Your grey suited man arrived at your apartment at 7pm sharp. He nodded appreciatively at your immaculate hair and makeup, cupping your chin in his hand as his eyes explored yours.

“Tonight,” he explained, “you will do exactly what I say, when I say it. If you disobey me, you will be punished. If you perform satisfactorily, you will be rewarded.”

“If I perform satisfactorily?” You scoffed. “I didn’t realise I was a circus monkey.”

He wiped his thumb along your lower lip, smearing the lipstick you’d applied not 10 minutes ago.

“You will do exactly what I say,” he growled. “Now, get dressed into the gift I gave you. And clean your face up. You have 5 minutes. Do not keep me waiting.”

You did as you were asked, presenting yourself like a piece of meat on a platter for him. He nodded approvingly, his hand trailing down the burgundy silk of the evening dress that fit you like a glove, the one he’d had made especially for you. You were a vision, an angel sent straight from heaven. He wasn’t going to tell you that though; he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction.

He took you to the most expensive restaurant in Seoul, where a private room had been set up especially. The staff were very discreet, and he’d need exactly that for what he hand in store for you tonight. You sat down opposite him at the small table, classical music quietly playing through the speakers. The room had no windows, lit only by the dimness of the candles dotted around the room.

“I took the liberty of ordering for you,” Mr Grey Suit said. “I’d expect you to eat every single bite.”

Champagne arrived, followed by oysters. You hated oysters with a fiery passion, but you forced yourself to finish every single one. You refused to show your distaste for them, refused to grimace as the slimy substance slid down your throat. Next up was steak, rare, the meat still oozing blood into to your plate, seeping into the accompanying potatoes. Your stomach turned; you hated red meat. You hadn’t eaten it since you were 10, the smell of it sending your stomach churning.

“I can’t,” you whispered, the metallic smell of the dead animals blood seeping into your nose.

“Are you disobeying me?” He asked, tutting as he tucked a linen napkin into his shirt. “I’m supposing you want to be punished then?”

“Please,” you choked, “anything but steak. I can’t, it’s the smell.”

“Stand up.” He told you. You stood to attention, ignoring the rising bile in your throat. “Come here.”

You did as you were told, your breath hitching as he pulled up your dress to your waist.

“Bend over,” he instructed. You obeyed, hearing the sound of his steak knife slide through the fabric of your lace underwear. You cried out as a sharp, swift slap was delivered to your right cheek, quickly followed by another, and then another. Each hit was harder than the last, tears streaking your face. The mixture of pleasure and pain was exquisite and yet so unbearable.

“Will you do as you’re told now?” He asked, his breath slightly ragged. You were soaking wet as you nodded, and he to resist sliding his fingers inside you. He was supposed to be punishing you after all, not giving you what you wanted.

You sat back down, the skin of your ass stinging as it made contact with the leather chair. Mascara smudged your cheeks, your face flushed. You looked down at the rare steak, then back up your mystery man. He was smiling so smugly at you; he clearly thought he’d won this little game. You smiled sweetly back, picked up your knife and fork, and sliced into the meat. You did your best to ignore the blood that seeped from it. You hardly breathed as you ate, swallowing the bile that continued to rise. A flash of anger contorted his usually handsome features; you were besting him yet again.

You proudly showed off your empty plate, sweat peppering your forehead from the immense effort. You refused to show you him how unwell you felt, choosing to down your glass of champagne to remove the metallic taste from your tongue. He begrudgingly poured you more, both of you smiling as you tried to figure out the others next move.

“What do I get then?” You finally asked, when the silence became too much.

“I’m sorry?” He said, dabbing the corner of his napkin as he surveyed you.

“You said if I did everything you asked, you’d reward me,” you reminded him.

“Ah,” he chuckled, “but you didn’t do everything I asked.”

“Yes, I did,” you snapped back. “I wore the dress, I ate the oysters and the fucking steak!” Eating that piece of meat had almost made you sick, but you’d done it. And he was reneging on his end of the bargain.

“But I had to punish you before you would eat he,” he smiled.

“And I did,” you hissed back at him, fists clenched under the table. “You can’t do this.”

“I can do whatever I want,” he whispered.

You looked him up again, his smug face looking entirely slappable in that moment.

“And so can I,” you decided. “Goodnight.” Throwing your napkin down on the table, you headed for the door.

“Wait!” His voice was desperate, panicked. He didn’t want you to leave. You stopped in your tracks, turning slowly to face him. He looked uneasy, wondering why his game wasn’t going the way he wanted.

“Fine, you sighed, “I’ll stay, but you’re going to play one of my games now.”

You fucked him on the floor of that private dining room, straddling him as you pressed the steak knife to his throat, the one he’d used to slice off your underwear. He quivered underneath you, entirely at your mercy as your slick, tight walls swallowed him again and again. He came with a strangled cry, thrusting his hips up into you as you drained every last drop of his seed.

Leaning down, you planted a single tender kiss on his lips.

“Goodnight, Mr Grey Suit,” you whispered. Standing up, you left him lying there on the cold marble floor, his cock still hard and his breathing ragged.

He had seriously underestimated you. What had started as a game of control, was now something entirely new to him. For the first time in his life, he was entirely at someone else’s mercy.

[everythingspokenfor]

All characters are aged up 18+. MDNI.

━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━

You knew this was a possibility, that's why you took extra precautions, tied the strings so well that you were sure you'll have to cut them at the end of the day. But here you were, contemplating how on earth did this happen...

Mina had finally pulled the entire group into going on a vacation, choosing one of the Okinawa beaches, all of you packed up and came to the private penthouse. The vacation was long overdue, everyone too excited to chill out and relax.

It was all good, friends chilling out eating, drinking and finally relaxing after months of tedious hero work.

You were thoroughly enjoying yourself, even if you had to deal with him. Bakugou and you had a sort of love hate relationship, constantly fighting but still having each other's back. Friends constantly commenting about the thick sexual tension between you both, which left you yelling at them, they weren't wrong tho, not that you would admit outloud.

"Move, Sugar." Bakugou rasps out, hand holding a can of beer, he was shirtless, wet swim trunks sticking to him thighs, tan lines clearly visible on his legs, he was still glossy from playing in the water. Had you hated him any lesser, you would have licked the water off him, alas that thought is something to be revisited in darker hours of the night.

"Go around the towel, dipshit", You retort, going back to lathering yourself up with sunscreen, he snorts, before stepping on your fucking towel and going along.

"Asshole!" You yell at him, whole he continues to laugh at your face. You took in deep breaths, this fucker isn't going to ruin your vacation.

You got back to your sunscreen, before reapplying you lip gloss, you put too much effort into your appearance today. It was a deep maroon two piece, the bottoms had a fabric around it making it seem like a mini skirt, while the top was tied with strings.

As much as you loved the bikini, the top was making you nervous, you had taken every measure to prevent the strings from untying, even kept a spear towel, having heard too many stories of women losing their bikinis in the sea making you paranoid. It was probably also why you hadn't ventured into the ocean yet.

"Gurll- you lookin' cute there." Mina walked up to you, handing you a bright blue concoction, you grinned at her before downing the drink.

"Thanks, babes." You giggled, cheekily winking at her.

"What aren't you getting into waters tho? The weather is pleasant too." She queried, leaning in to steal your gloss. "I am gonna go, just applied sunscreen." You dusted your hands, as you stood up, Mina finished putting on the gloss, tossing the tube in your bag before both of you raced into the waters.

The boys, Kaminari, Kirishima and Sero welcomed you both in with splashes, playing around in waters lasted for a bit, after multiple rounds of chicken fight, Kirishima called Bakugou, asking him to join in.

"Ain't interested in yer shitty games." He yelled back, didn't bother looking at the group.

"Scared you'll lose," Sero provoked him, knowing that with right words he can get Bakugou to do anything.

"Fuck did ya' say?" He grits out, before standing up and charge towards your group, all of you scream before swimming in different directions, trying to not be his first victim.

Adrenaline pumped through your vessels, as you swam to furthest end of the shore, leaning against the big rocks keeping you hidden from the main shore. Breathing hard, you placed a hand on your chest, trying to slow the beating of your heart. Only to come to a horrible realisation that you weren't wearing your bikini top.

You were bare from waist above, frantically you tried looking for you top, hoping to find a maroon cloth lying somewhere, unfortunately you couldn't see anything that could vaguely resemble your bikini.

Panic set in when you realised that from this end of the shore, you can't even go to your spot on the beach, chance of grabbing your towel without being seen by your friends were too thin.

"Caught you!" Bakugou roars as he swims around the rocks, only to be stopped as you let out a yell, turning away from him.

"Stay there, Bakugou!" You barely even stay afloat, hairs shielding your back, while hands crossing over your chest.

"What? You suddenly don't want to play, when I catch you?" He rasps out, slightly curious as to why you wouldn't even turn to face him.

"It's not that." You let out a sigh, contemplating whether it's a good idea or not to ask Bakugou for help, he could potentially swin back and get you a towel.

"What is it then, Sugars?" He is much closer now, you can almost feel him behind you. "My top is lost." You whined out, praying he helps you.

"Sorry, what?!"

"My bikini top is lost, it untied while swimming." You whisper-yell at him, giving him a stink eye over your shoulder. He doesn't reply, instead it goes too quite, you slowly peek over your shoulder, only to lock eyes at Bakugou who is already looking at you.

Infact he was looking slightly below, as if checking whether or not you had the top. "Fucking pervert, I'll beat your ass!" Had your hands not been busy you would have whacked him.

"I am not a fucking pervert, I was thinking."

"Had you thought longer, you would have popped a boner."

"You want my help or not."

You went silent at that, of course you needed his help, especially if you didn't want to flash your friends.

"That's what I thought." He speaks at your silence, his voice a little too smug, "you got spear clothes here?" He queried, swimming back a little to look at your bag by the beach.

"I have a towel in there, it's big enough for me." You answer him over your shoulder, he wasn't looking at you anymore instead he was turned away mostly, head slightly tilted so he could hear you.

"Stay put, I'll get it," he almost start swimming before he turns towards you and says "Try not loosing the bottoms, in the meantime." And off he goes.

You knew just from that comment, he isn't going to let you live it down, you are sure he'll probably end up changing your name to some stupid shit constantly reminding you of today, but at least he is helping.

Everybody had already gone inside, letting Bakugou get you, when he reached where your towel had been laid out, he looked for your bag, not wanting to snoop too much, he got to work, quickly looking into the back to realise that there wasn't any towels in it. For a moment he wondered whether he should gather up your sand towel but decided against it.

He quickly jogged over to his spot at the beach, and grabbed the t-shirt he was wearing earlier, getting back into the ocean, he swam towards the rocks where you were hidden.

"Oi! There wasn't any towels, got you a t-shirt tho." He stretches an arm towards you, wet t-shirt in his fist.

"I had one, tho." You look at him in confusion, submerged neck deep into the ocean, hands crossed tightly. You were facing him slightly, eyes looking that clothe, you unwrapped one arm, from around yourself and reached for it, Bakugou averted his gaze, further stretching out his hand so you could reach it.

He moved a little closer, eyes still looking away, arms spread to make sure nobody can see you, even if it a private area of the beach.

You put the shirt on, feeling a little less exposed, turning around to fully face Bakugou, "Thank you, I suppose." You sheepishly scratch the back of your head, assuming the interaction is over and you'll both head back in.

"First of all☝🏻'you suppose?' and secondly you owe me more than a thank you."

He spits out, crossing his arms, and jutting out his hips. You eyes immediately drifted to his tits pecs that had become extenuated, before immediately locking eyes with his.

"Fucking pervert," He mimicked your earlier words.

"I am not! What do you want, Bakugou?" You exasperated, sighing dramatically, crossing your arms as well.

He moved towards you, arms unfolding to sway by his side, "Be nice, Sugar."

You scoff, eyes squinting at him suspiciously, more than aware of how close he was to you. He leans in clear, backing you against the rocks, leaning towards one side, leaving ample space for you to move away from him if you wanted.

He was close enough you could feel his minty breath onto your face, he locked eyes with you before leaning in, instinctively you closed your eyes, head tilting as your hands came to rest on his chest.

The kiss was taking a bit too long, peeking with one eye, you realised Bakugou was staring at you with a grin on his face.

"You asshole!!" You yelled at him, pushing at his chest, trying to move away from him, he was cackling, hands still grasping at your wrists, not letting you move away from him.

"Sorry, sorry." He wheezed out, pulling you towards him,"Oi, I am sorry, listen Sugars."

You didn't care tho, too tired to be dealing with his shenanigans, he was determined tho, pulled at your wrists, turning to glare at him, you were surprised by feeling of his lips against yours.

You stood there limp, Bakugou taking the lead for you, one arm around your waist other tilting your head to the side, deepening the kiss. You slowly brought you hands around his neck, fingers coming to run through his blonde hairs.

You pull away breaths heavy, he continues kissing down your jaw, leaving behind love bites for you to later press into.

He comes back up, pressing his forehead against yours, "So, how 'bout I take you out, Sugars?"

━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━

[cherry-romper]

Realising they like you

+ Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Marco, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Levi, Erwin, Hange, Reiner, Bertholdt, Annie, Porco, Pieck, Zeke

Warning; alcohol consumption

Eren; It was while you played in the ocean. You were messing around with Sasha when a piece of  seaweed touched your foot. Having never seen seaweed before, you panicked and threw yourself at the nearest person for safety - that person was Eren Jeager. Taken aback by the sudden weight, he fell into the ocean, you along with him. You apologised profusely while helping him out of the water, but he just stood there. You watched him carefully as he moved the hair out his face. You worried that you might have hurt him during the fall, so you asked if he were alright. Again, you were met with silence. You looked back at the others for support, but were cut off by Eren laughing. He let out the most genuine belly-laugh you had ever heard. He was smiling like an idiot, keeling over as he clutched his stomach. Your heart squeezed, as did the others. Eren hadn't laughed, nor smiled, in months. You soon giggled along with him. You even held onto his arm for support. Once he'd calmed down, he looked at you, from your eyes to your lips. He uttered a small "thank you," before pulling you into a deep hug.

Mikasa; It was just a normal day. You had been doing your chores around the garrison and were now eating your fill, along side Connie and Sasha, in the mess hall. The two you were sat with were, once again, arguing over food. They bickered like children, throwing food and hurling insults at one another. You laughed at them, dodging the occasional piece of bread that came flying your way. Mikasa was stood at the door, staring at you in awe. The way the sun fell over your hair and framed you face was like something out of a renaissance paining. She admired your every crevice. From the way your nose curved to the shape of your lips as you smiled. She saw how your uniform draped over your shoulders as they bounced while you laughed. She was stood far away but could still see your eyes as the shone in the light. As far as she could tell, you were glowing. You were radiating serenity - the kind she'd been looking for her whole life. She'd never seen you in this light before, it caught her off guard. The more she watched on the darker her blush got.

Armin; He'd liked you since you were kids but fell head over heals for you when you saved him from a titan. He had been assigned a separate group from you during a mission beyond the walls and you were leading a rescue squad to his distress signal. You found him being cornered into a tree by two small titans. He was waving his swords at them helplessly, begging for them to not eat him. You made quick work of the two titans, cutting them both down in the same motion. He watched you wipe off your blades as you asked if he was alright. He was so thankful you'd saved him, he started babbling on about him repaying you. You shushed him and told him that if he were to make it out alive, that would be payment enough.  He knew then he'd marry you.

Marco; When you were injured while on a mission beyond the walls. He'd never felt so strongly for someone before. He sat with you on the ride back into the walls, the whole time he was gawking at your injuries. He held onto your hand tightly while he cried into his sleeve. Jean, who was riding a horse next to the cart the two of you were in, asked why he was so upset, you'd survived hadn't you? Marco just shrugged, unsure how to answer, but the aching in his heart answered for him. He stared at Jean, a broken expression on his face. Jean knew, just from that look, that Marco loved you.

Jean; On a day off you'd gone to the market place. There was a band playing in the square. Some people were drinking and laughing, others were just passing through. There was a group of people dancing to the music. You and Jean watched on in awe. You were mesmerised by the way the women's dresses flowed as they danced and Jean watch as the men moved freely as they sways their partners around. While you watched on, someone pulled you in. You were a little shocked, but took to it straight away and started dancing with the others. Jean eyes gazed over your dancing figure. You were beautiful. Truly beautiful. He was so entranced by you he hadn't notice you nearing him. You stood in front of him and gave him a mischievous smile. He cocked a brow at your expression, but before he could ask you pulled him into the circle. His hand naturally glided to your waist and yours to his shoulder, your bodies held close. The two of you swayed together in rhythm with the music. His chest tightened as he stared at your smile. There was no doubt in his mind, he loved you.

Connie; You'd both been drinking. While it wasn't illegal to drink at your age, but it wasn't smart. You both knew you had training in the morning but you drank anyways. Connie had convinced you, or vice versa, at this point you couldn't remember. Neither of you were light-weights but between you, you'd had gone through nearly a barrel of ale. You didn't feel as drunk as you were but still you ended up throwing up really badly. Maybe it was the fact that this was your first time drinking in months or the fact you and the ale tasted like shit, either way, you were hacking up as much as your body would let you. Connie panicked a little, you were both in no fit state and it was hard too see in the dark, but you were his first priority.  He comforted you, moving any hair out of the way as you threw up. After a while, you'd appeared to have finished, or at least calmed down. The two of you slumped down against a tree. You tried to say sorry but the soreness of your throat wouldn't let you. He shushed you, pulling your head against his shoulder. He told you to rest, he explained that he'd take responsibility for the two of you being late in the morning. While you rested, he could hear you softly snoring to yourself, a sting of dribble hanging from your mouth. He thought you were so cute. And even though you were in a vulnerable position, you trusted him to take care of you and that meant the whole world to him.

Sasha; You'd gone hunting with her and finally managed to kill the boar you'd wanted to for weeks. In celebration, you flung your arms around her nuzzling your face into her neck as you squealed with joy. She felt so warm and fuzzy, she hadn't felt that way before. It was new, refreshing even; like a breath of fresh air. She held you there, close to her chest, for a few moments more before she began jumping for joy with you. On the way back to camp, you both gushed over what dish you were going to cook with all the meat you now had.

Levi; You left him a note one day when you were sent on a mission. It read: while I am gone, remember to stay healthy. Asshole. Notes were your thing, but for some reason this one made Levi's heart skip a beat, a rare smile found it way across his cheeks.He replied to the note in his head: as long as you promise to come back to me, dumbass. He wouldn't admit it aloud but he was giddy with excitement waiting for you to return.

Hange; You brought them a Titan back from one of your missions. It was one that they'd had a hard time capturing, an abnormal beyond the walls that Hange desperately wanted to study; they'd already named it Alexander. When they realised you'd risked your life to help their studies and free humanity, they knew you meant more to them than they could fathom.

Erwin; You'd been gone for nearly a month. Your convoy had been spilt up from the main unit and everything had gone horrible wrong. You were outside the walls for 3 and a half weeks before you found your way back. You and one other in your unit had survived, out of the 28 that been split. When he saw your face he nearly fainted. Your whole unit had been presumed dead, the probability of your survival was less than 0.067%.  You and your other comrade were malnourished and dehydrated, they had lost an arm in the carnage. You only survived because of the sacrifices made by the other members of your unit, who'd unknowing donated their gas and gear through their deaths. No one could believe it, you both became legends, both being awarded medals for your bravery. It wasn't like Erwin to loose his composer but you seemed like an angel in that moment, as you were brought to the safety of the walls. He stared through you, like you weren't real, his legs moving on their own as he stumbled to you, slumping his arms around you, pulling you in for an embrace he swore he'd never release.

Reiner; You followed him. After he betrayed everyone and left with Bertholdt and Ymir. You followed him on your own volition. He was at a loss for words, he betrayed you, as if he'd murdered your friends and family with his own hands. Still you were soft with him, asking if he was okay, telling him you'd be fine no matter what happened, you'd stay with him. You knew he didn't want to do the things he was forced to do, and you were willing to hear him out. He just listen to you talk, slack-jawed, that someone as kind as you had come into his life to guide him down the right path. He was in awe of you and he knew he'd do whatever it takes to keep you safe in Marley. 

Bertholdt; You knew his secret and confronted him about it. You told him after everything you still loved him and that if he needed saving you'd be right there to do it. They were the words he'd wanted to hear his whole life and he was so happy they'd come from you. He sought comfort in you from then on and invited you to talk with Reiner about going back with them. 

Annie;

It was while she was in her crystal, you had visited her any chance you got, explaining the situation to her. You'd known she was the female titan before her reveal, and you confessed that too her crystal. You cried as you explained that you wish you could have stopped her, or at least found a way to help her. You been talking to Reiner about it all, as you figured out their secret to. He'd agreed to take you to Liberio with them, as long as you pledged allegiance to Marley. They were empty words, but you did so anyways, and conjured up a plan to rescue her.

Porco;

He'd known for a while that he liked you but being the stubborn ass he is, he denied and denied his feelings until it was you who confessed to him. He had convinced himself that relations like that were pointless, given his limited lifespan. During your confession, you mentioned that even though he didn't have long to live you were happy with any amount of time with him because your forever could be even better than nothing at all. He was at a loss for words, in disbelief that you'd be willing to go through that for him.

Pieck;

She'd liked you for years, but never really found the time to talk about it with you because she'd been deployed to Paradis. The most casual confession known to man. You were sure she hadn't realised what she'd said. She'd finished reading a book she'd recommended a millennium ago and were talking to her over how the characters had fallen for one another. She simply replied with "yeah, I think he fell for her the same way I fell for you, Y/N". You eyed her cautiously, she wasn't even looking at you, she was just sorting through her papers. A gargled string of flustered sounds made it way out of you mouth in response, unable to form a real sentence. Finally she looked up from her work, smiling at you knowing, she had no doubts that you liked her back so she felt no need to tip-toe around the subject. 

Zeke;

He knew when you were walking along the docs with him. He was having a smoke, basking in the sunset, it was the calmest he'd felt in months. Looking to you, he saw that you were messing around with a piece of seaweed that had found its way to the waters surface. He saw how you absentmindedly played with it, it brought him peace that you could still find joy in the little things, despite what you had witnessed. Seeing you lit by the setting sun, finding solace in his company was enough to solidify the rising emotions in his heart.