#and then you will see how little all of this shit actually matters and how much of your time money and energy you were wasting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

todosdream · 1 day ago

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stress relief | ony

15k wrds. strangers to friends? to lovers. slow burn. plot with smut. fem black oc. see the moodboard.

warnings: MNDI! lots of profanity, usage of n word, pet names, mentions of weed; smut: unprotected sex (PLS BE SAFE), edging, a spank or two, naaasty talk, degradation? more like brat-taming, dacryphilia for two seconds, ony rightfully has a bbc, begging, ony’s a talker (duh), choking? really just a hand necklace, pussydrunk ony, lowkey d/s but not explicitly mentioned

additional #: oc needs to get laid fr. kt needs her headphones. becca needs a new job. author doesn’t box. shout out mrs. etta. ony is chalanting with a girl for the first time. (and he’s vibing with it.) oc really needs to get laid. oc is a bit bratty… sorry. ony needs to get off his ass. oc is actually very bratty, damn. oh hell, oc gets laid!

“girl, I’ma be real with you… you need some dick,” crystal’s best friend tells her through her screen. kt’s giving a look, an interesting mix of pity and annoyance. her knotless braids are framing her face, mocha skin radiant as always but lashes looking quite barren. “yeah, and you need a lash refill, ho,” crystal snorts. since she’s bringing up needs and shit. it’s unfortunately been a while since they’ve hung out, kt now visiting family in colorado for about a week.

being the type of friends they are, the both of them have no issue communicating through tiktoks and sending pictures of silly things. just yesterday kt sent a picture of herself holding up a peace sign with a joint between her lips. she stood next to a 'no smoking' sign, the ‘no’ smudged. she thought she was just so clever. crys in return sent a saved picture of an unimpressed squidward, a typical exchange between the two goofballs.

“yeah, okay, ho. I’m just saying. maybe you’d be a little nicer to me if you got some,” she rolls her eyes, giving yzma. her rescheduled lash appointment can’t come quick enough. “says the girl getting some every day and still being mean to me,” crys scoffs.

kt’s living with her boyfriend, expecting his title to change to fiance after feeling a certain anticipatory energy from the man. her time consists of working and chatting with friends, and being with and posting videos with her partner. crys, however, explores her free time in many ways. picking up hobbies that have about a 50% chance of sticking, trying different restaurants, teaching her dog funny tricks, and the occasional friend hangout. it’s friday night and she’s doing her own nails just for the hell of it. although the uninhibited girl’s words trigger an automatic negative response, crys knows why she’s speaking them. when the phone call ends, kt will turn over and cuddle up to her man, maybe ‘get her shit rocked’ as she likes to so delicately put it. crys, however, will be left with her dog, her empty home and bed, and whichever toy she vibes with for the night.

she likes being alone, it’s an accomplishment for her to feel confident and comfortable being single after wasting her time with people that don’t care, men that don’t even actually like her. but when it’s all said and done, people are meant for connection. of course platonic, family, community… but that pull? that yearning? it can’t be replicated, no matter how many times she rewatches bridgerton or insecure.

it’s been a while since she just let go with anyone other than those already close to her. the last time she let someone new in, he showed her exactly why ‘niggas ain’t shit’ is such a popular phrase. it was a situation that didn’t make any sense, and in retrospect, she cringes. the embarrassment, the useless attempts at communication, the settling… never again. however, that’s a part of her life that’s being fully neglected. no dates, no late night rendezvous, no flirting, no sex.

one word: cobwebs.

“why are you more worried about my coochie than I am, anyway?” crys jokes as she fixes her gel polish, deflecting the conversation. it’s not something she wants to discuss or harp on. that’s just life for her right now. she’s tired of people wasting her time, so she became unavailable. simple. plus, she knows kt’s nosy ass man is lying next to her and listening because that girl never wears her damn airpods. “you think that’s an insult? girl. that only makes you look bad, not me,” she sasses. crys hears a soft snicker in the background. “oh, fuck you,” the girl mumbles in response. “and will you please put headphones on the next time you decide to go talkin’ bout my coochie? cause I’ll happily tell all those stories about yours, pimp.”

“stories?” crys hears in the background of the call. “ain’t no way she just called you that. what the hell that mean, crystal?” the bestie purses her lips and squints at crys. she watches as the brown skinned girl tilts her head, making her curls flop to the side with a ‘gotcha’ look. “I know where you live, you know that, fo’head? have a good night with your vibrator, ho,” she speaks lowly. shuffles are heard as she drops the phone onto the duvet next to her. “she don’t mean that, pookie, she’s just all pent up.” kt’s middle finger is all that’s visible on the screen before the phone echos a tone a few times, indicating the end of the call. crys snorts in response and sits her phone to the side. she sighs, looking over her nails for any imperfections as her mind echoes her words.

she wouldn’t be opposed to a night in the sheets. it’d be nice to dust off the cobwebs. get some head, maybe get her shit rocked like she hasn’t had in a while. part of her wants the slow and sensual, romantic sex with someone special. the kind of sex that touches her soul, that you can feel on every level. the other part… well. that part stays right in the cage where it belongs. that part likes to drown in frisky pleasure even if the one giving it is a life source draining leech.

it’s normal to want pleasure, it’s human. but the thought of all the bullshit that comes with dealing with another human, let alone a man in this day and age is enough to make her reconsider taking that step. so like usual, she brushes the words off and refocuses on her spa day so that she can be at her best for the work week.

ᥫ᭡

despite her best efforts, the next week is particularly irritating. mercury must be doing her shit, maybe all the damn planets, because so many people have had wack ass attitudes and it’s rubbed crys wrong. terrible interactions with customers, coworkers called out and left her in a busy store with little help, and she broke a nail doing something very much so not in her job description. on top of that, the amount of random things outside of her control that have gone haywire is deeply irritating. her tv crapped out and decided to just stop working out of nowhere, her wifi is out for local renovations, and her trash can is missing.

again.

it’s a wonder she hasn’t either had some type of crash out or just cashed in her pto for a fucking break. instead, she decides to get dressed for the gym and puts on a purple workout set. if she wants to be cute and sweaty she damn well will be. she grabs her favorite gym shoes and her essentials. she leaves her curls alone for now, but takes a scrunchie to put it up later. when she gets to the gym at a completely different time than she’s used to, it’s practically empty, save for a young and obviously bored receptionist that’s glued to her phone and a middle aged woman power walking into her destiny.

seriously, crys will have some of what she’s having. the woman is on fire.

sighing to herself, the frazzled girl goes to scan her member qr code, only for the damn scanner to decide to stop working. the blonde receptionist behind the desk sighs as if doing her job is the last thing she wants to do. crys usually wouldn’t blame her for that, but the way she’s popping her gum has the curly headed girl imagining a modern re-enactment of that one scene from that madea movie. the receptionist seems to be in absolutely no rush to fix the scanner, completely oblivious to the metaphorical cloud over crys’ head that’s growing by the minute. she fights the urge to furrow her brows and take a week’s worth of irritation out on the worker, deciding to take a deep breath instead.

the brief look up that the girl gives in response has her immediately regretting her decision.

before she can even think of something to say, the door opens behind her. she’s in no mood to look at the person, figuring they’ll both be waiting in line. she doesn’t want to seem open to small talk because she’s just not. however, the receptionist— becca, her nametag reads— looks up like the sun just graced the sky for the first time in centuries. she stands up straighter, obviously trying to make herself look like she’s doing the job that she’s been failing at, and calls over crys’ shoulder. “hey, ony, technical difficulties. you’re free to go ahead you don’t have to wait, I can check you in once this is fixed,” she smiles. that lucky bastard. it’s the first smile on her face in the entire time the bristling girl has been there. crys swears if this was a cartoon scene, the blonde girl would be fluttering her lashes with hearts in her eyes.

there’s a deep chuckle from behind. “thanks, becca. they should give you a raise,” a low, raspy voice responds. crys’ eye twitches. the hell they should, she thinks. hand me the damn performance review form cause I got shit to say. becca, now looking as if she’s on cloud nine, waves him off dismissively. “just doing my job. leg day?” she questions, trying to sound as casual as possible and not like her drool is threatening to ruin the damn scanner beyond repair. “mhm,” the stranger hums. “nice kicks,” he mumbles.

crys is too busy zoning out and imagining herself tap dancing on the broken pieces of the scanner to realize that he’s talking to her. the way becca’s eyes shift gets her attention. “oh. uh, thanks,” she murmurs, looking up. all she sees is a muscular back walking towards the men’s locker room. she doesn’t have time to look him over because ms. becca decides she actually can do her job and calls out to her that the scanner is fixed.

it just needed to be plugged up again.

ain’t no fuckin’ way.

becca doesn’t even seem embarrassed. she’s holding the scanner lazily and looking around, probably for that ony guy. the blonde doesn’t realize that crys is holding her phone out, and she’s still popping that damn gum. instead of saying something to the girl like she really wants to, she grabs the scanner from the “worker” to check her damn self in and quickly heads to the locker room. the girl doesn’t deserve her week’s worth of anger.

after some time, she’s finally out on the floor to stretch out. soon after the warm up, she’s at the punching bag. it’s not her usual choice of workout, but she took classes when she was younger and knows it’s a great way to release all that irritation from the week in a more physical outlet.

crys quickly wraps her hands and soon she’s throwing punches and listening to rico nasty, an artist who has several tracks on her ‘temper tantrum’ playlist. she gets into her groove, trying to remember the important tips from the classes she attended years ago. it’s hard to recall all the basics, but she gives it her best shot. not too long after, she notices a shadow of someone’s frame behind her. it must be that lucky asshole from earlier, probably here to be a bother. or maybe becca decided to do her job and came to tell her to move her bag off the floor. she sighs, taking out her headphones and turning to look. it’s the stranger. the man’s arms are crossed as he watches, showing his sleeves of tattoos.

crys wishes she could say he was ugly, but he’s definitely not. he’s fine as fuck, actually. his skin is dark and healthy, making him look like he actually has a skincare routine and not just 100-in-one soap. he has an athletic build visible even through his clothes that makes her want to drool like dear old becca. he’s tall, maybe 6’4 or 6’5, so she has to look up at him, even being on the taller side herself. his black durag matches his all black workout fit and she wonders what exactly lies underneath considering the size of his arms.

his demeanor is calm and steady, confident in a way that’s quiet, as opposed to many other gym bros™. his face is calm and there’s barely any tension in his body. crys thinks she’d like to make him bothered, just to get a rise. see if he’ll hold ip or bite back. but no, that’s rude, and she doesn’t know this man at all. his eyes are looking at her intently, and she despises how beautiful they are. why do men get to have natural lashes that look like that? it’s not fair she has to get extensions when his are so long with an almost perfect curl. and the color of his eyes make it worse, the light brown contrasting his dark skin so prettily. and his lips? full, perfect for kissing, among other things.

lucky bastard.

“you gone bite my head off if I suggest how to fix your form?” he asks with a simple raise of his brow.

ᥫ᭡

ony’s a hardworking man. he likes to handle business but have some fun on the side too. he’s chill. everyone would describe him as that. he’s the levelheaded friend, usually the calm in a storm, and not one to be all over the place physically, mentally, or emotionally. he’s a steady beat and he likes it that way. life is peaceful and secure, challenging in certain ways, but calm in others. he has a good paying job as a personal trainer, proper work life balance, and a good head on his shoulders. he doesn’t do too much, honestly, but that doesn’t mean that his life doesn’t have some interesting twists and turns. his boys always seem to need rescuing in some form, sisters all a whirlwind of their own. his mom is always a source of entertainment, although his dad is much like himself. he likes his life, simple as that.

but things have been becoming monotonous lately. his clients aren’t having any interesting developments and his social life is steady but uninteresting overall. his family group chat is going through a quiet spell and his boys are actually not up to anything stupid like they somehow always are. he’s been particularly unfulfilled by the game and there’s no sport he wants to keep up with as of late. it’s all kind of… blah. he’s grateful that nothing’s going wrong. he could be having a bad week as opposed to a boring one, but he aches for a spark, something different to bring a bit more color to his life. maybe he should get a pet? maybe some little fish couldn’t hurt. he thinks over the new idea while he follows his usual routine to pack up and leave for the gym.

and then he sees crys.

he notices her form as she stands at the check in desk, interest piqued. he’s never seen her before, and he comes to this gym at least five nights a week. he knows names and faces, especially since there’s usually no more than five people when he comes. her figure catches and keeps his eye, his gaze taking in the woman’s long legs, thick thighs, and plump ass, seeing how her afro falls around her shoulders. his excuse for where his gaze is centered is that it’s all he can see from where he’s standing, but it’s not much of an excuse. she’s just fine as hell. her workout fit is cute and colorful, contrasting his dark and bland one. her hand is in on her hip that’s popped out, accentuating her form.

his interest is definitely piqued.

he gets to see more of her when he comes around to speak to becca. pretty almond eyes, soft looking lips, the bottom currently being chewed with vigor. she’s beautiful… but one look at her profile and the flames in her eyes tell him all he needs to know: look the other way. ony grew up surrounded by strong black women in his life, his mom, sisters, aunts, cousins… learning to read body language and— well, the room, was something he learned quickly and he’s applied that lesson everywhere in life. everything about her body language and that cute, barely contained frown screams bad day. so he greets becca— who’s really a sweet girl, just unbothered— compliments her shoes, and moves on about his routine.

it’s like clockwork. he puts his stuff away, makes sure his chain is safe and secure, fills his water bottle, waves at mrs. etta on the treadmill, stretches, locks in, and gets the workout started.

he’s getting into his mode and enveloping himself in the feel of the workout, but he can’t help the way his eyes are pulled back to crys. the way she stretches, the way she adorably bobs her head to the seemingly… aggressive? music. she’s gorgeous and new, which has him feeling like every routine move he makes is just a little different. her and her angry pout and her curves and her curls…

she approachs a punching bag, which ony can admit he didn’t expect. the outfit convinced him she’d be power walking with mrs. etta, or doing pilates in the corner. his mom always told him what assuming does to someone, though. he looks away as he tries to focus on anything other than her. he counts his reps like usual, trying to submerge himself in his music. it doesn’t work. as soon as she takes her first swing, his eyes are back on her, taking notice of how she punches.

hm.

he can see she knows a bit more than someone just randomly choosing to throw a few hits, but he isn’t fond of some of the habits she has that could actually hurt in the long run. he debates approaching, but he’s always been one to help others in the gym. attitude be damned, he’s a personal trainer. he knows the importance of doing things correctly. after watching for a while, he decides to walk over. he knows that if she doesn’t fix her punch, she’ll be angry all over again tomorrow because of sore wrists. she turns, obviously annoyed, but he’s not scared. she looks him up and down, her facial expression barely shifting. he wonders what she’s thinking, wants to hear her voice. when she finally looks up at him with those eyes, he almost tilts his head.

how can someone be so fuckin’ pretty?

she’s a vision with her bare face. eyes he could get lost in, features he wants to admire for moments on end. he would actually guess that she’s quite sweet behind the haze of her frustration. obviously a multifaceted person, and he’s interested in the idea of learning all those facets. who she is, maybe what she likes, what she doesn’t like. maybe even what makes her happy, what would put a smile on the adorably scrunched up face. for some reason, he wants to see that happy expression. actually, as a matter of fact, he wants to see all her expressions. smiling, confused, relaxed, aroused. she’s caught him with a simple gaze and he’s confused about it.

“you actually know what you’re doing?” she asks. it’s not meant to be a jab, truthfully. she’s been hit on by guys that try to “help” just to flirt, but ultimately make a fool of themselves— and her for giving them the opportunity. she doesn’t have the patience for it today, it in fact might be the straw that breaks her back. she can see amusement tickle at his expression, but no signs of him being offended.

because he’s not. he can tell she isn’t asking in a facetious way, she just seems… tired. like she doesn’t want her time wasted. he can respect that. “I promise you, I do,” he says with a slight smile. just a little one, unable to contain his utter enjoyment in her sass, and still having that almost sickening feeling of attraction.

crys hums, her gaze sweeping over him again briefly, taking in his calm but confident demeanor. the little smile on his face is lowkey pissing her off, but she has enough sense to know it’s because she has a lot of stress to work out. he’s fine as hell and now’s really not the time for all that. even still, he’s bold to come over with the metaphorical storm still rolling above her head. bold�� or stupid. who walks towards a burning house? but she knows if he could tell her form was off from so far, she could really be messing herself up with how she’s going at the punching bag. she wants to just kick and punch it randomly, similar to what her ‘temper tantrum’ playlist suggests, but she knows that’s no good. and again, he’s fine as hell.

all the same, she’s still irritated and frustration-filled. “sure, yeah,” she mumbles as she turns back to the bag.

ony’s quite intrigued, interestingly enough. he knows a person close to the brink when he sees one. he can see the irritation in her eyes and in the way her shoulders are set. her movements are stiff and her brows are still pinched, gorgeous even with the possibly dangerous amount of upset toiling in her. despite her tense demeanor, he can tell she’s still at least trying to be respectful. and he appreciates it.

“what’s your name?” he asks, shifting to stand next to her. she’s staring at the bag, itching to just punch. “crys,” she answers, sparing him a glance as she fixes the wrapping on her hands. she’s pulling it tight, her movements swift. she can feel him watching her intently and she doesn’t know how she feels about it.

he nods. “ony. I’m no expert but I can share a few tips to keep you from gettin’ hurt. mind if I touch you?” he asks, the question second nature from dealing with his clients. he knows better than to start without given permission, and he definitely knows he doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of her irritation. “s’fine,” she answers, ignoring the very inappropriate response that her brain comes up with. not now, brain. nasty ass. she really just wants him to hurry up so she can go back to punching, but she supposes she can hold back for a few more minutes if it’s him that’s going to touch her. plus it’s important to do it right, and even through her upset she knows that and is grateful for his help. if he could just be a little faster, though, that’d be wonderful.

he approaches, gently taking her hand in his as he unwraps her binding. “it’s a good wrap, but they shouldn’t be too tight. you gone hurt yourself that way,” he mumbles. his hands move slowly, demonstrating to her as he explains. it’s not in the show off-y way she expected, but direct and intentional instead. she’s glad he’s helping but a part of her is focused a bit too much on how his hands feel, how calming his voice is. “you should be able to spread your fingers. this’ll save your wrists and then some, yeah?” he murmurs, gently tapping her hand. still upset, she hates how soothing the contact is. she doesn’t need soothing, she needs violence.

that… might be dramatic. she knows it. but the week’s frustrations have all built to this moment and she plans to take full advantage of the punching bag in front of her. if he doesn’t pick up the pace, he might just take its place, handsome or not. “gotcha,” she mutters. “can I hit the bag now?” ony chuckles, and she’s mad that she really likes the sound. “sure. do a couple jabs.”

she takes a deep breath, her focus zoning on the bag. his presence fades slightly as she begins going at it, a bit overzealous. he lets her take a few punches, seeing how she obviously needs it. his gaze sweeps her form, watching her hips swivel slightly as she swings. her hits start with a decently healthy form, but the more she gets into it, ony can tell her focus is slipping. “okay, hold,” he murmurs. she doesn’t hear him and continues punching. her breathing is picking up and the cute scrunch between her brows is deepening. “hold,” he says louder, getting her attention. she huffs and raises out of her stance, blowing a stray out of her face. she steps forward and holds the bag to stop its movements, looking over at him.

ony could almost laugh at the way the curl flops right back into place. swears he could almost see her eyebrow twitch. damn, who pissed her off? “you got some good habits and some bad habits,” he mumbles, standing parallel to her now. “need to swing your hips more, not push through your arm. pop the bag, don’t push your punch.” he moves slowly as he speaks, demonstrating his words with his movements. it’s easy to follow, but his muscles are stealing the show, to crys’ dismay. “I was doing that,” she mumbles in response because she indeed was. “mhm, at the beginning. the more you put in, the less you focus on your form,” he says as he returns to his earlier position, arms crossed. “go again,” he nods. “bossy,” she mumbles. she likes it. he’s giving proper tips and doesn’t really care about her attitude, seeming unaffected.

ony chuckles, seemingly knowing there’s no actual anger in her tone, at least not completely directed at him. crys supposes he’s right. when she gets in the flow, her mind focuses less on her form and more on the happenings of the week. she definitely could’ve weakened her stance, and his words bring memories of her previous instructor. he might not be an expert, but he knows what he’s saying for sure. she gets back into her stance and takes a few more hits, more focused on her form this time around. she can’t quite lose herself to the exercise with the newfound focus, and she doesn’t like it. “better,” ony calls out. “keep goin’.” so she does. she follows his instructions to a t, feeling a bit more comfortable with the continued form as she practices.

“nice, real nice,” he murmurs, shifting to hold the bag from behind. he notices the hesitation in her movements as she focuses on her form. “come on,” his deep voice encourages. “where that fire go, huh? tellin’ me you can’t fight and focus?” crys, probably feeling goaded, looks up to him for a moment. ony could laugh again at the look in her eyes, but he doesn’t. “don’t look at me, look at the bag. you mad, I know it. let it out,” he nods his head to the bag in his hands. he doesn’t have to tell her twice. she starts to hit with more vigor, putting more into her punches. “mhm, yeah. control that shit, stay tight. swivel your— there you go, exactly,” he encourages. she’s picking it up, movements smoother and becoming more confident by the minute.

shit’s sexy as fuck.

crys is actually starting to fuck with him more, feeling herself in the workout. the way he’s talking is having an affect on her, and she knows she’ll be thinking back on this very moment tonight. his voice is deep, and slightly raspy as she keeps at it, and the encouraging makes her wonder if he’s like that in… different circumstances. she can feel her breath picking up for several reasons. “had you mad as fuck, huh? had you fucked up?” ony questions, pushing her a bit more. “let that shit out, ma. ain’t doin’ you no good to hold it in.” they both know that he’s telling the truth. she was just about bursting at the seams and his encouragement is helping her tap back into that. she punches harder, small grunts falling from her lips. the week’s frustrations are pouring out of her now and she’s pushing herself so that she can get him out of her head.

the way he’s talking to her in her amped up state just shouldn’t be legal. she’s pretty sure he’s the type to talk his girl through it, probably tease and taunt to get a reaction. damn, she needs to get laid. “form,” he reminds as her focus slips. she gives a quick nod, readjusting herself quickly before taking another shot. ony likes how quickly she responds to his guidance. “hell yeah, you got that shit. keep goin’, mama. ain’t nobody fuckin’ with you, that’s for damn sure.”

damn his fine ass with his deep voice and his face and his pet name.

she keeps going until every ounce of upset is drained, listening to his encouragement and occasional shit talking at a particularly weak punch or slip of focus. she’ll be honest, she feels good. great, actually. she feels as if she actually knows what she’s doing, confident in her moves. the upset has trickled away, but its absence is leaving too much space to think about the man in front of her. his fine ass is pushing her in the way she likes and needs, encouraging but taunting just the way she likes it.

after several more minutes, she steps back, panting. “killed that shit,’ ony mumbles, double tapping the bag. she really did, the difference between her earlier attempts and now is stark. and all because of just a few pointers. he watches as she catches her breath and unwraps her hands. “you done?” he questions. he wasn’t expecting her to finish so soon, she was just getting in her groove. he was honestly expecting a few more rounds.

“yeah,” crys answers as she nods. “thanks for your help, really. just needed to blow off some steam.” feeling better now, she decides that she should finish out with her regular workout. the less angry she is, the more she focuses on that damn smirk on his face, the way his muscles move with each shift of his body, the birthmark she’s spotted on his jaw. she’s trying hard to resist the pull she feels as she catches her breath. she gets another chuckle from ony. “could tell. I almost didn’t even come over. bad day?”

crys gives a sheepish smile, sliding her wrap in her bag. ony likes the smile a lot, but he wants more. “my bad. bad week, actually,” the woman responds. ony shakes his head, uncrossing his arms. “no harm, I get it,” he responds. and he really does, most of the time people’s attitudes really have nothing to do with you. “you should keep at it though, you got good form. at least when you’re focused. with some more practice, you could easily make it muscle memory.” and I’d like to see you more, he thinks. crys smiles and nods. “think I will. thanks again for your help, woulda been pissed if I hurt myself.”

ony’s eyes trail over her features. with the metaphorical cloud gone, she’s shining brighter. her smile is gorgeous, revealing a small gap in her teeth and a crinkle by her eyes. yeah. fuckin’ beautiful. “course. can’t have you gettin’ mad again, yeah?” he laughs, the sound deep as it rumbles from his chest. crys playfully rolls her eyes. “whatever, ony. actin’ like I’m godzilla or something. you can gone back to your workout.”

the two separate, continuing their sessions. but their eyes continuously meet as they sneak glances at each other and they exchange flirty quips. crys questions the amount of weight ony chooses for his sets, teasing that she’d thought he’d lift more. ony calls her out for a weak rep, telling her she should start over for half-assing. they just can’t seem to get enough of each other, teasing and poking at one another like crushing kids in school.

crys is definitely eating their interactions up. he’s fun in a way that isn’t childish, regardless of how he makes her almost giddy like a teenage girl. he’s not afraid to go along with a joke, but it’s obvious he’s not one to be messed with. no matter how many shots she takes, no matter how much she teases, he never breaks a sweat. it’s almost as if he’s welcoming the challenge and crys is more than willing to indulge.

ony likes her fire. it’s invigorating and it keeps him on his toes. he’s used to women being like becca— fawning, overly sweet, and obviously interested. the push and tug he gets from crys is different, and he’s enjoying every interaction, every tease, every glance at that ass. she just draws him in and he can’t get enough. where the hell has she been and why are they just now meeting? he could’ve shown her a lot more than boxing tips by now.

for her cool down, crys decides that since the gym is pretty much empty, she can take some extra time to do some yoga and meditation. she zones in and takes a plethora of deep breaths, regulating her nervous system and releasing tension. grounding herself in the present moment and releasing stress, anxiety, and frustration. it definitely helps as a follow up to the punching bag. she’s always appreciated how centered she feels after even just a few minutes of reconnecting with herself, tending to her mind, heart, and soul and not just her body. she should definitely do yoga often to stay balanced, but shoulda woulda coulda.

the second she starts to stretch, ony’s eyes are stuck on her like glue. she stretches for a long time, he notices. it seems like some type of meditation, the way she holds her hands together and closes her eyes, highly focused as she takes deep breaths almost audible where he stands. it’s interesting how he can notice the shift she makes from her earlier demeanor. she’s much calmer, locked in in a way unexpected to him. of course he knows how to calm himself, how to regulate. but those stretches… not only is he sure he could never replicate them due to lack of flexibility, but he can see the intention in each move, seemingly in each muscle and breath.

it’s weird to him how pulled he feels in her direction. he just wants to know her and is curious if she’d give him the chance. and of course he wants to know her body too… he could definitely help her relieve a lot of that stress. over and over again. probably until she couldn’t take anymore. something about her just keeps pulling him back in. maybe he’s just interested in her newness with his life currently feeling a bit more dull, but he knows he’d be just as interested if it wasn’t. she has spice, a good sense of humor, sweetness, she’s undoubtedly beautiful with all her little quirks, and that ass is the kind that a man would go to war for.

seriously.

especially with the way she’s sitting and stretching with her legs wide, chest flush against the floor. it’s making ony have thoughts, and a lot of them. after a while of being unable to stop looking, he decides to walk over. he stands above her with his arms crossed, head tilting as he looks down at her. “how the hell you even doin’ allat?” he murmurs quietly, almost to himself. and what else can she do? he wonders.

crys laughs in response, still enjoying the feel of the stretch. “I do it often. years of youtube videos, I guess,” she responds. she raises, intentionally moving slow for the practice. it’s just a bonus that she can feel his eyes on her ass. “sit down,” she grins, looking up at him with mischief in her eyes. he had his turn helping her, and now she’s going to do the same. whether he likes it or not. plus, it’d be real nice to spend some more time with him. she likes his presence and his laugh and his little jokes. his looks, his demeanor, the way he’s not scared when she nips at him instead either remains unaffected or nips right back… kind of everything about him, so far at least. “huh?” he asks, eyebrows raising. “nigga, if you can ‘huh’ you can hear. sit down and stretch with me,” she laughs.

ony likes the sound. a lot, he realizes. and her sass really tickles him. so why not? he shrugs, plopping down on the floor next to her.

“yoga’s more than stretchin’,” she begins. “yeah, it feels good for the body, but it’s good for the mind too. it’s a lot deeper than I can explain. it’s one of those things that’s been taken from another culture and kinda wiped of its authenticity.” he watches her as she talks with her hands, her caring a lot more about it than he expected. but he’s interested and following along with her words. “I try to respect it, y’know? it has a lot of benefits. can I touch?” she asks with a tilt of her head. he appreciates how her curls bounce with the movement and gives a simple nod of his head. “sit up straight,” she adjusts his back. “and keep your focus on your breath, keeping an awareness of your body as well. stay mindful of the present moment.”

the moment her hand touches him, he sits up. not because of her words but because of the feel of her hands on him. she’s gentle with her guidance, her touch almost hesitant and her voice has softened in a way that sends a slight chill down his spine. “sorry, are my hands cold?” she asks apologetically. “as fuck,” he answers with a laugh. “keep goin’ though.” crys laughs and pinches him softly. “aht, aht, I’m the teacher now, I give the directions. straighten out your legs.” ony rolls his eyes in response but follows her instruction. he mumbles a soft “yeah, aight.”

she gently bumps her shoulder against his at his sass. “lean forward and reach for your feet, curving your back. take a moment to center yourself, focusing on your breath and how your body feels. don’t think about anything, not even me,” she teases slightly. ony can’t help but smile at that. “you make it difficult, sweetheart,” he mumbles. her stomach flutters in response. he takes a deep breath before closing his eyes, reaching for his feet. “don’t forget to breath, nice and deep. relax your mind and let your thoughts fade away,” she mutters softly. “relax. really feel the peace and the stretch.”

oh, ony feels something, alright. but he focuses his mind on the way his muscles feel. he’s used to stretching, but the mental part has never been the most important aspect. he likes how quiet his mind is, how the peace envelopes him like a warm hug.

she guides him through several more positions, helping him to stay centered mentally. her voice is so soothing, her touch as she adjusts him doing things to him. he feels good. really good. the combination of the practice with her presence is something he intends to make sure he gets more of. she’s so cute with her little chides. a “stretch deeper, ony” here, a “you’re not even trying” there. and her obvious favorite, “you know you can do better than that”. actually, no, her favorite thing to say in reprimand is his name. it’s a pleasant hint of flirting and teasing mixed with gentle guidance and words of calm.

by the end of the night, ony’s hooked. before she can walk to the locker room, he gently grabs her wrist to get her attention. “hey, wait, ma,” he murmurs softly. she looks up at him with those eyes again and he’s suddenly parched. “can I get your number? you know, I can send you some boxing tips.” crys tries to fight a smile but fails. “oh, really? boxing tips? sure, long as I can send some yoga tips.” he laughs a bit, smiling at her tone. “yeah, send ‘em. gotta be on my namaste more, shit was nice.” crys tilts her head back slightly as she laughs. “boy, whatever. here.”

ᥫ᭡

crys is folding. real bad.

at first, she thought she’d just do some light flirting, maybe just tease and taunt and go on about her merry way. she didn’t have any intentions on really following through with the man because he just seems like a threat to her safe, protected little bubble of diy nails and chilling alone at home. but as time goes on, she realizes that she’s in a quicksand situation. swapped informational videos of boxing and yoga are just the beginning. soon, they’re texting back and forth. funny videos sent at way too late at night, a range of questions exchanged as they get to know each other, random voice messages that make her stomach tingle… she looks forward to speaking with him, even changes his text tone so she knows when it’s him.

he’s just so funny in such a simple, straightforward way. sometimes she bites at him and he doesn’t budge a bit, not giving her the satisfaction of a reaction. sometimes they go back and forth like a tennis match. he’s not afraid of her sass and she loves when he actually bites back. he’s just… attractive. in a lot of ways, on so many different levels. she ends up going to the gym late more often because he’ll be there, spotting her while she lifts and helping her with her boxing. ms. becca at the front desk seems to really not like it, but her non-working ass can move on somewhere. crys and ony start a routine that whenever she comes to work out with him, they grab food and sit in one of their cars to goof around. they even decide to power walk with mrs. etta every now and then.

it’s insanity to kt, though. she doesn’t understand why they haven’t ‘fucked each other like bunnies’ already and she reminds crys every time they talk. they’d scrolled his instagram together several times and he’s a popular topic between the two of them, three including kt’s boyfriend. he, of course, has a front row seat to these conversations since ms. kt never wants to use her damn headphones.

one particular night, crys is just really not feeling the workout. she’s more tired than usual and ony can tell. she’s not her usual, witty self. not a single jab has any bite to it, and it’s the same with her words. he doesn’t like it. she’s not supposed to be quiet or sad. he doesn’t like the distant look in her eyes and how she gives a weak smile at his teasing. “hey,” he murmurs. “go get changed and get your stuff.” he watches as she looks up at him with a furrowed brow. “you’re obviously not feelin’ up to it. we’ve done enough, let’s grab sum to eat.”

crys was going to push through, get her workout regardless. “nah, I’m good,” she shrugs him off. “no, you ain’t. quit playin’, it’s not a suggestion,” he grumbles back. that surprises her, but she guesses it shouldn’t really. one thing that she’s noticed is how good he is at reading people, and he’s really good at reading her now. he knows when to push, and has learned how to in several different circumstances. she guesses this is one of them. his tone is different than usual though. it’s set, no room for negotiations, no joking around. his eyes are focused and sharp in a way that almost even she doesn’t want to argue with. “…right. yeah, okay. I can go by myself though, you can finish your workout,” she mutters softly.

“what I say?”

crys didn’t need to be told again. his whole demeanor is looking more immovable than ever, eyes and tone telling her to get her ass to the locker room, basically. if it were anyone else, she would’ve fired back and asked who the hell he thought he was. but at this point, she’s too tired and she really doesn’t want to poke the bear. so she sighs and nods, grabbing her bag as she shuffles back to the locker room to get her stuff. she’s grateful, honestly, because as soon as she sits in the passenger seat of his car, she feels like she’s been hit by a bus but it’s really just a wave of exhaustion.

“you pushin’ too hard, ma,” he murmurs, his eyes on the road as he drives. he’s seen her energy decreasing over time, the spark in her eyes dimming. he’d slide a comment in or two about taking a break only for her to brush it off like it was no problem. she’s stubborn and he knows that, but fully capable of taking care of herself, which is why he wasn’t expecting it to get this far. she’s drained and he’ll be damned if he just stands by and watches her continue down this path. especially with the way her head is leaning against his window. usually he’d say something about her hair products getting on it, but he couldn’t give a damn about that.

“you been slackin’ and you know it. wassup?” he questions as he spares her a glance. she sighs, her eyes closing as he makes the familiar trip to their usual spot. “stress. I’ve just been stressed,” she answers. that much he could tell. it’s not really the information he’s looking for though. “mhm. why?” he presses. his voice is a mix of tenderness and concern but also firmness. he’s not going to let her brush this under the rug. “just a lot of shit goin’ on, ony. work’s a mess, they can barely do anything without me there they’re always arguing and never getting anything done. I’ve been looking for another job for months with no luck and it’s really starting to become a problem because I want to leave soon. and I don’t know, I just want to be in a different situation than I am right now.”

ony hums, rolling her words over in his head. he knows she’s been trying to leave her job, even sent her resume out to a few people he knows just to help out. he can understand her frustration, he was in a similar boat before he started his own thing and became a personal trainer. he gets it, the stress from working in a place that drains you and how so many job rejections can affect a person. “it’s alright, ma. I know that don’t mean much to you right now, but it’s gone work out, aight? I’ll put some pressure on my folks, help see what’s out there. you still got some pto right?” he asks. she sighs, rubbing her forehead. “yeah, but I’ve been saving it for a rainy day.” he could almost chuckle.

“it don’t seem like it’s rainin’ to you?” he pushes slightly. “take some time off. rest and relax so you can come back better. do yo yoga and shit, smoke some, whatever. you need a break, babygirl. no positive change is gonna come from you stressin’ and burnin’ out. it’s a three day weekend coming up, take the couple days before that off too.” she looks out the window as they pull into the drive thru. he’s right and she knows it. it’s just so easy for her to get swept up into the stress and lose herself a little bit more and more until she realizes just how close she is to burning out. she can feel tears gathering in her eyes from the stress.

“oh, pretty girl,” he mumbles, seeing the emotion in her eyes. he pulls off to the side and parks in the back of the lot instead of getting in line. “c’mere, crystal,” he croons, reaching an arm around her to pull her close. she sniffles and her shoulders shake as she cries into his shoulder, letting out what she’s let build up for so long. “s’okay, ma. you really doin’ good shit, providin’ for yourself and workin’ hard. it’s gonna work out, you gotta believe that,” he presses, squeezing her tighter. “but you can’t do this, okay? you can’t wither away like this. your health is important and if you neglect it, it’ll affect everything. I don’t like seein’ you upset and tired and drained. wanna see that pretty smile, get a taste of that sass that irks me so much.” she laughs slightly in his arms, her own wrapping around him as he gives her the most comforting hug she’s had in a while. “you’re right or whatever. big headed ass,” she mumbles.

“there she is.”

ᥫ᭡

after that night, she did exactly what he suggested. she took those extra days off and just recovered. smoked, slept a whole bunch, had a self-care day, and even booked a massage just for an extra treat. of course she talked ony’s ear off, and texted him and her best friend a bunch too, but it was necessary in her eyes. she knows they love her presence, even if they call her annoying. by her last day off, she feels rejuvenated.

she feels less stressed. she has a revamped resume, a mini twist out that’s cute and lets her leave her hair alone, new nails, and a new attitude. but… crys is running out of excuses to give as far as her and ony. his support that night meant more to her than he probably even knew. the way he held her, calmed her down, and comforted her… it’s something that’s been plaguing dancing in her mind. he’s shown that he can handle her full range of emotions no problem and can support her regardless of how strongly she feels. at this point, even she’s started to wonder why they haven’t done anything. she hasn’t made a move, no, but neither has he. he seems perfectly content with the way things are and is starting to become bothersome.

she can’t get him out of her head. his voice, his laugh, his features. every time he encourages her while she’s going at the punching bag, she wants to push the damn thing out of the way and just tackle him. when she can feel his eyes on her while they stretch, she wants to show him exactly what she can do and how her flexibility can blow his fucking mind. she wants to kiss him, touch him, hear those encouraging words that he gives her in an entirely different setting.

but his lack of action is causing her to overthink. is he not as affected as she is? does his heart not pound in her presence like hers does in his? how the hell is she the only one gnawing her lip at the thought of more? maybe it’s because she hasn’t had sex in so long. maybe that’s it. she’s just like this because of her wack ass sex life.

contrary to crys’ perspective, though, ony is losing his shit.

he definitely would’ve made a move by now if these were usual circumstances. he’s just so thrown off by how much he likes her, how much she makes him feel. she’s so much more than that pretty face and that mouth watering body. she’s funny, witty, and she packs a nasty ass punch both with her words and her hands. he likes the full range of crys. mouthy and annoying, intentionally trying to get a raise out of him. flirty and teasing, sensual in the way she draws him in. sweet and serene, almost like an oasis of calm and tranquility. oh, and he can’t forget how expressive she is with every emotion. her anger when her order’s wrong at the late night burger place they frequent, her excitement and joy when mrs. etta tells her about another good scan at the doctor, her sadness when she sees a sad tiktok during rest periods.

he just doesn’t get it. how can one person be so damn enthralling? how can someone’s quirks and flaws be so beautiful? he’s never felt pulled like this, but you know what? he’s fucking with it. she’s done nothing but add color to his life, a great addition that he felt like he was waiting for without even knowing. he loves her presence. she makes him smile and belly laugh, she pisses him off, she lights him up. he can be goofy with her, serious, sensitive even. he just wants more and more of crys, and even when he thinks maybe there’s nothing left to surprise him about her, she whips something new out of her arsenal. it’s just crazy how she has him by the throat but he’s happy to be along for the ride.

but he’s really wanting that ride to go somewhere. he’s always thought that it was crazy that crys is single, he just doesn’t understand it. in his eyes, she’s everything great in a woman. confident, sensitive, hardworking, sweet… annoying but in the best ways, enthralling, sexy as all hell.

when he’s ranting to eren about her for the nth time, the brunette raises an eyebrow at him and asks what’s taking him so long to ask her out. ony blinks. he thought they were… well, something already. but the sense that’s been chasing him for quite a while now finally catches up to him and hits him like a truck. he has to say something. do something. the unspoken thing doesn’t work for adults, and definitely not if he actually wants to keep her. is he an idiot? he wants to say no to his own question so badly, but he knows he would be delusional if he did.

so he quickly decides to get his shit together. the next time he sees crys, he’s asking her on an actual date, and that’s it. this whole thing could’ve been at a different point if he’d taken his head out of his ass and asked her out that first night he saw her in the gym. but it’s too late to try to change the past, and he can fix his mistakes in the present.

ᥫ᭡

unfortunately for ony, crys has a nasty attitude the next time they meet. her answers are short and snippy, and not in the usual, fun way. they had plans to go shopping together to buy mrs. etta a congratulatory something for completing her treatment, both having become extremely fond of the lady and being supportive of her on her journey. ony picks her up, being the gentleman he is (he hates her driving) and it takes no time at all to notice the bitter air around her. he actually realizes it the second she closes the door to her townhouse too damn hard. she huffs and puffs as she gets settled in the passenger seat.

crys doesn’t really know exactly why she’s so mad. it’s another one of those days where the stress has built up so quickly without her noticing, something that happens when her head isn’t fully in the game. she doesn’t want to take it out on ony, never means to, but something about knowing that he can handle that shit keeps her from being as mindful as she should be. “hey,” he speaks, his eyebrow raising at her lack of greeting. “hey,” she greets blandly. “what’s wrong, ma?” he asks, looking from her to the road as he pulls off. she just shakes her head. “thanks for picking me up,” she murmurs. “of course,” he responds.

he’s eyeing her every once in a while, trying to pick up on whatever he can. she’s fiddling a lot, tapping her fingers as she looks out the window. antsy? irritated? what is it, he wonders. but he’s not super fond of playing the guessing game, by now she should know that she can talk to him about any and everything on her mind and in her heart. he’ll listen, he’ll care, and he’ll support. hasn’t he shown that? “you lyin’ to me, ma. don’t like it,” he mumbles. she doesn’t answer and he really doesn’t like that. “what’s the issue, crys? talk,” he presses, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. this isn’t anything he’s used to from her. mouthy sometimes? sure. that’s nothing he can’t handle. but the silent treatment mixed with the tense attitude is not how he was planning to spend this time with her.

“nothin’, just tired.” she murmurs. his eyebrows furrow. “we can reschedule if you want,” he responds, understanding. “nah,” she says simply. she can’t explain it, she doesn’t really want to act like this. she’s just not exactly happy at the moment and the two seem to have very different vibes. guess that’s the theme, huh? she thinks. “mama, you not bein’ fair. tryna talk to you,” he mumbles. she rolls her eyes, looking out the window. “yeah, talk. your favorite thing to do,” she mumbles.

ony pauses, but only for a moment. “and that’s supposed to mean?” crys sighs, as if she’s really just over him. “nothing, ony, m’sorry. are we goin’ to macy’s or ross first?” she’s trying to deflect, and although ony’s not stupid, he lets her. maybe she just needs time, she can be like that every now and then. carrying around irritation from an earlier incident until it eventually fades and she’s good to go. sometimes she just needs to process her emotions, and ony’s cool with that. he’s cool with anything with her, it seems.

they end up at ross first, mrs. etta’s favorite store that she talks about when they power walk with her. they get her random things, little trinkets that remind them of her, lotions and candles, and a few decorative pieces for her house. they move to macy’s to get her a perfume she likes, and a few other random things that draw their attention. last is dollar.25 tree and a couple other craft stores, the mission being to grab a big basket and additional stuffing to make her a custom gift basket with a congratulatory card from both of them. crys is quieter than usual the entire time, but not necessarily agitated. it seems like shopping for mrs. etta is cheering her up.

seems.

once they get to her house, ony can tell by the way she groans as she flops onto her couch that she’s not a hundred percent. at this point, he’s confused and maybe a bit worried. what is it that has her so upset? he doesn’t like when she’s quiet, much rather her be loud and expressive with whatever emotion she’s feeling. it’s eerie when she’s quiet and ony can’t tell what she’s thinking or feeling. he doesn’t like to be in the dark.

“c’mon, ma, let’s go ahead and get this assembled. we can talk and smoke after,” he mumbles, moving to set the stuff down on her dining room table. he wants to sit and smoke, get her to shake herself out of whatever fucking funk she’s in, but he figures it’s a good idea to finish up mrs. etta’s gift. he really wants it to be perfect. he’s known mrs. etta for a while, she was even one of the people that encouraged him the most when he first started training, and he’s extremely happy that her treatment is done. a bratty sigh is heard from the girl on the couch and ony has to close his eyes to center himself. “we can’t take a break? all that shopping. m’tired.”

ony licks his lips and lets out a breath. “sure, ma, take a break. imma get started on this, I’ll chill after,” he responds. crys doesn’t like the little breath he takes, his tone coming across patronizing to her. “you tired of me? cause I can really do that shit by myself,” she responds lowly. she swears she can see a vein appear on ony’s forehead, but only momentarily. “nah. just want this gift to be good,” he mumbles. crys sits up to look at him. “it’s good already, we put a lot of thought into everything. what, you think I can’t assemble it myself?” her head tilts. because she could make the prettiest damn basket all on her own, really. she’ll prove it if she has to.

ony’s on the brink. he’s been patient all day— he’s always patient with her. it’s usually no issue, but today she’s really pushing it. mrs. etta should be the focus right now. “you don’t hear me talkin’ to you?” she asks, her eyebrows beginning to furrow. “yes, love, I hear you,” he murmurs. “just focused.” he’s really trying to keep it together.

crys scoffs, “yeah, well, you can focus and talk. you wouldn’t have to focus as much if you waited on me.” ony wonders what he did to be in this position. he hasn’t done shit to her, hasn’t said anything disrespectful, and he knows that she isn’t usually one to take her shit out on him, so he’s just thinking. wondering what has her so mad. “there you go again, not fuckin’ responding,” she huffs, standing up and crossing her arms. “you can just get the hell out forreal, I can finish this mysel—“

“sit the fuck down.”

crys blinks. and then blinks again. “excuse me?” she asks. she couldn’t have heard that right. he wouldn’t talk to her like that, he’s not insane. but the look he gives when he turns to her gives her second thoughts on that theory. “you heard me. sit the fuck down. I’m not leavin’ and you’re about to act like you have some fucking respect instead of poppin’ off at the mouth. I’ve dealt with your shit ask damn day, trying to be patient and understanding— like I always am with yo lil ass. I’m not playin’ crys. sit down,” he demands. and he really means that shit too, she can tell.

crys’ jaw is damn near on the floor by the time he finishes talking. “who you talkin’ t—“ she starts, only to be interrupted by a slow approaching ony, having put the materials he was working with down. “crys, I swear, if you don’t get some act right—“ he starts, trying to keep his breath even and his body calm. tired of being interrupted, crys decides to give him a taste of his own medicine. “what? what you gone do? talk my ear off? stand there and look at me with your arms crossed? I ain’t scared of you, ony. you don’t do shit and won’t do shit to me.”

“nah. I’ma fuck you,” he answers as he steps into her personal space. if crys’ jaw was on the floor before, it’s in hell now. there’s no way he just said that. “fuck that nasty ass attitude right outta you. you playin’ in my face, ma. you know I don’t like that shit. I’ve been so fuckin’ understanding with yo ass, somethin’ not every nigga is willin’ to do, by the way. you push and you push and I let yo ass. is that the problem?” he tilts his head, chest almost touching hers as he looks down. his eyes are dark, his jaw tense. the vein she thought she saw earlier is bulging now, almost angrier than ony himself. “is the problem that I let yo lil ass keep pushin’ me? cause I swear it don’t mean that I’ll just let the shit slide. and I’ll prove that shit too.”

ᥫ᭡

“fuck,” crys pants, tugging on the sheets in front of her. “please,” her voice breaks. “just— just lemme come. I’m so close, ony, please!”

she’s been on all fours for a while now, face buried in the bed as ony works her with his tongue and fingers. she’s in a pool of her own arousal, thighs wet and pussy drenched from the several times she’s been close to the edge, only to be disappointed each time as she’s denied her orgasm. her bottom lip is bitten raw, toes almost permanently curled and eyes finding a home in the back of her head as she pushes her hips back again and again to coax ony to at least let her have one. if she knew this was going to be the result of her attitude today, she would’ve just asked him to fuck her before they even left to go shopping. she’s waited enough for this, and even now when she’s so close, she’s getting denied.

there’s a harsh but absolutely welcome smack to her ass and she whines so damn pathetically that ony almost laughs. pulls his full lips from her clit with a pop and massages the cheek. “you want me to stop?” he asks, his voice low and raspy in a way unfamiliar to crys. she quickly shakes her head and grips the sheets tighter. “no, please! keep going, wanna come on your face,” she begs, pushing her hips to meet his lips again. the sound and sight of her is addicting, ony thinks. he likes the way she seems so desperate for his touch and tongue, craving that release that he’s been building up for so long. “you wanna come?” he asks, his fingers sliding back into her soaked pussy. he can feel her clench around him almost instantly. fuck he’s going to enjoy tonight. “yes! yes, wanna come!” she pants, rocking her hips to meet the thrust of his long fingers.

“then shut the fuck up and let me have my fun,” he murmurs, diving his face back in as his tongue meets her clit once again. “ah, shit,” she whimpers, her eyes rolling back again at the pleasure that washes over her. “yes, yes, just like that. fuck, you eatin’ my pussy up,” she moans. she’s never been so mad but so pleased at the same time. he’s torturing her and she doesn’t know how much longer she can last before she releases all over him without his say so. she’s already been through so much, she doesn’t want to find out what else he’ll do , even if it’s his fault. “my fuckin’ pussy,” he pulls back to murmur, flicking his tongue quickly over her pearl as his fingers continue to pump. she’s so wet, his fingers move with ease, and the sound that’s made is delicious. “say that shit.”

“fuck, I’ll say whatever you want,” she whines, back arching and toes throwing up gang signs. “s’your pussy, baby! take it take it take it,” she moans, throwing her ass back over and over. she’s so damn close, so damn close. she can almost taste it. her tummy feels like it’s about to burst and her poor pussy is sobbing. he pulls back once again to her dismay, reading her body like a book. “you betta not fuckin’ come,” he murmurs, fingers moving faster as they stretch her. how the hell is she not supposed to come? is he insane? “you fuckin’ kidding meee?” she whines, her head falling down onto the sheets. ony likes how spent she looks already, and he hasn’t even fucked her yet. “you know damn well I ain’t,” he grumbles, smacking her ass again. “arch that shit. it’s gone be a long night if you don’t listen to me, baby.”

in a turn of events, ony’s pussy drunk. he’s enjoying himself way too much, taking in her moans and slurping up what’s now his to pleasure. he’s just drowning in her, hands exploring everywhere he can touch. caressing, appreciating, adoring this beautiful woman falling apart on his tongue. he could do this all day and be grateful every second of it. he’s absolutely aching in his shorts, but something about bringing such a normally mouthy girl to babbles is too hard to turn away from. he didn’t even mean to take it this far, he just doesn’t want to stop. he wants her to keep feeling good, and the way she begs and reaches back for him to bring him closer lets him know that he’s doing his job

“please, I can’t,” she begs, back arching but breath deepening. “ony, I caan’tt, m’gonna come,” she whines. she’s trying, really she promises she is, but it’s just become too hard to hold out. it’s too good, she wants it and needs it. if he doesn’t stop or give her the green light, she’s gonna make a mess of both of them, and she’s not going to regret it. ony groans at her whines, basking in the sound of her begging and pleading. he can feel how she’s clenching, hears the desperation in her voice. she’s gone, melting into a pile of goo at his touch, and he’s never felt more satisfied. not only are they both having the times of their lives, but that attitude is just about gone and she’s actually acting like she has some fucking manners.

he reluctantly pulls back and removes his hand from her, licking at his fingers like a man starved. “flip over,” he huffs, standing and palming his aching dick. she seems to be too out of it, raising her head full of messy curls to look up in his general direction. “w-what?” she questions. ony doesn’t have time for her shit, so he grabs her hips and flips her over his damn self. the way he looks down at her is downright sinful and crys flutters simply at the sight. “fuckin’ bratty ass. you did this to yourself, crys. was gonna take you on a nice ass date, make love with your pretty ass, do shit the right way. but that fuckin’ mouth of yours,” he grumbles as he grabs her by her ankles, pulling her to the end of the bed. “is too damn bold with me. gotta fix that, sweetheart. you gone be my good girl after tonight, I can promise you that.”

she whines and grinds against his hand as his thumb traces circles on her puffy clit. looking down at her, he realizes that this is one of his favorite sights now. her eyes are blurry with tears from the constant denial, her face scrunched in a cute and sexy pout of pleasure, her tits shifting with each movement. ony could watch her like this all day, bringing her to the edge over and over just to see those pretty tears fall and hear that voice of hers crack. that’d only be torture for himself as well because he feels like he’s about to burst. “you so damn beautiful. you want this dick, sweetheart? tell me, I’ll give it to you,” he murmurs, licking his lips as he lets his shorts fall. crys whines and nods, unruly curls all over the place. so damn breathtaking.

“gimme it, please. wanna come all over it, baby. paint it for you,” she begs. her arms reach to hook around the back of her knees, pulling her thighs back slightly to open up for him. her words only serve to rile him up more. “you a lil freak, huh? mmm, you can do better than that, baby. stretch them legs like I know yo lil freaky ass can,” he grumbles, pulling his underwear down and off, his cock hanging low between his legs. crys knew it— she just knew it was big, and she was right. it’s long and thick with a minimal curve, and if she wasn’t so deprived she’d get on her knees and pay him back for the teasing. she whimpers and bites her lip, sliding her hands to hook behind her knees instead. she pulls her thighs flush to her chest and keeps going, extending her legs.

“fuck, yeah, baby, show me that pretty pussy. fat pussy all mine,” he grumbles. he lessens their distance, letting himself rest on her as he takes her in. what a fucking vision of a woman. he takes his dick in his hand and lightly taps it against her before her rubs himself all in her wetness. “look at ‘chu, baby. so fuckin’ sloppy. this all for me?” he asks, tilting his head as he looks back to her face. she goes to speak, but ony considers her next words unimportant in the grand scheme of things. before she can speak, she feels him start to press into her. she lets out a breathy moan, her grip tightening on her legs. “f-fuck,” she moans at the same time ony lets a groaning “shiiit,” pass his lips.

the two pant, looking each other in the eyes as he continues to press forward. crys is seeing stars, feeling the stretch of him. her face scrunches and her eyes begin to close. “mm-mm, keep them pretty eyes on me,” ony‘s breathing heavy , his hand coming to lightly wrap around her throat. “sexy ass. you bet not deny me that shit.” crys can only lick her lips, forcing her eyes open to meet his, clenching at the way he speaks. his words add to the growing fire within her. “there you go, baby. love that shit,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press his lips against hers in a nasty, sloppy kiss. crys is upset at the fact that this man is really bringing her to her knees. “so damn fine. don’t know why I waited so long to be in yo shit. too fucking good,” he groans, pulling out just slightly before pushing back in. crys gasps, pulling her legs closer just to have something to grab, but it just makes him go deeper.

“feels so good, onyyy,” she moans, keeping the eye contact as much as she can. ony’s hovering over her now, watching her with his bottom lip between his teeth and his eyebrows together in concentration. he’s moving slowly, letting her adjust to him and just taking in the view in front of him. “onyyy,” she moans, clenching around him as her pussy flutters. he’s so damn fine and it’s been so long since she’s been touched. he’s deep in her shit and she’s on cloud nine. she wants more, so much more, and she wants it all from him. she hates it took so long to get to this point and hates that she the fact that she stopped herslef from persuing him. she wants this, needs all of him. “fuck me,” she chokes out. “c’mon, please.”

“relax,” he mutters, his free hand rubbing up her thigh. “just keep that pretty pussy open for me. I’ma always give you what you need, sweetheart. always.” and he means it. he’s never going to play with her, not her heart or her mind. but he’ll play with her pretty pussy until the sun comes up, until the cows come home. he’s never felt anything so good, seen someone so beautiful while they take his dick. she’s everything to him in this moment, her curls sprawled around her like the sun’s halo, face showing all the pleasure she’s feeling. her breathing is deep, her eyes staying on his just like he said.

he’s fucked. shit, he might just be in love.

“ooo, fuck, ony,” she keens, her nails slightly digging into the skin of her thigh. “so big. oh my God, baby.” she’s having the time of her life. he’s stretching her so well, and he feels so damn good digging into her like that. ”yeah, yeah. been waiting for thisss,” she pants, unable to keep her mouth shut. it’s just so good and it’s hitting that spot. would could blame her? “give it to me,” she moans. ony groans above her, his hips starting to meet hers sharper and sharper. she’s still so vocal, and he’s eating it the fuck up. “mhm,” he breathes, his hands moving to rest on hers, helping to hold her legs as she falters. “take that dick, babygirl. s’all for you. swear it is,” he groans. she doesn’t know it, but she could ask for just about anything right now and he’d give it to her.

her eyes scan over him, her hand reaching out to lightly scratch down his abdomen. “fuckin’ me so good, ony.”ony groans at the touch of her nails, his gut tightening at the way she’s looking up at him. he pulls out, reaching down to tap himself against her again. she’s too much, her voice, her eyes, her touch… the way she keeps clenching around him. “you fuckin’ dangerous, mama,” he pants. “can I beat this pussy up, baby? lemme take it.” crys bites her lip and nods, looking up at him in a way that makes him grip her thighs a little tighter. fucking minx. he’s beating himself up for not doing this sooner. he adjusts himself on the bed, leaning down to press his lips to hers as he slides back in, the two of them moaning into each other's mouths. he immediately picks up the pace as he sucks her bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling slightly as he presses more of his weight onto her.

crys starts to gasp with each thrust, toes curling and a squeak escaping her when she feels his hands on her clit. “w-wait— fuck, wait, m’gonna come quick,” she moans, fingers gripping ony’s shoulders as he pins one of her thighs to her chest. she wants to come with him, but her earlier pleasure is coming back with a fucking vengeance. ony chuckles— actually chuckles, and rasps down to her, “that’s the point, sweetheart. give it to me.” if she wasn’t on the brink of a mind blowing orgasm, she’d be pissed and annoyed at that fucking smirk. but instead she pants and pants until her breath stops. her orgasm washes over her in delicious waves, and she’s just frozen in pleasure, unable to do anything but come and come, pulsing around ony.

“breathe, mama. come on, breath through that shit,” ony guides, pressing kisses up and down her neck. right, breathing. she forgot about that. crys lets out a long moan, her eyes rolling back as she tastes her sweet release. sweet isn’t even the word, though. the denial and delay just makes things ten times stronger, her orgasm wracking her in a way she wasn’t prepared for. she’s holding onto ony tightly as he talks her through it, breathing heavy as she just takes it. “yeaah, there you go. breathe, baby, I got you. gonna take real good care of you just like I said,” ony grumbles, nipping at her skin here and there and slowing his thrusts and his assault on her clit. he has to pant at the way she’s so tight around him, and he’s just so strained holding back good open release. “you deserve that shit, baby.” more kisses and nips than either of them can count are placed on crys’ neck as crys comes down and tries to calm down as well.

his hand reaches to gently caress her cheek as he presses soft, sweet kisses to the other. “you’re so beautiful, babygirl. you feel okay?” he asks softly. okay? she’s riding down a fucking rainbow of happiness and bliss. okay is an understatement. crys figures that would boost his who a bit too much, so she just tilts her head to rest on the side of his. “mhm,” she hums breathlessly. “so good,” she murmurs. ony’s glad, pressing more kisses to her sweet face. he’s happy he can make her feel good, especially considering how she was sarlier in the day. “good enough to gimme another one?” he asks. he just can’t get enough, so he has to ask. he wants this night to last as long as it can.

crys lets out a breath, wondering just what the hell is wrong with the man. she’s been through the wringer for a good while now. but it’s felt amazing every step of the way, so the answer is yes. of course it’s yes. she nods. “just one more, sweetheart,” he croons, looking down at her dazed face. he pulls out, turning her over onto her stomach, much gentler this time. he guides her on all fours and reaches to rest his hand on the headboard, his other hand positioning himself once again. once he begins to push inside, his arm wraps around her torso to hold her tight as they both moan. his hips start to move again, this time with a slower pace as he braces himself on the headboard.

ony can’t help but feel the shift on the room. it’s much more intimate than before, crys sensitive from one release already. he wants to be so many things for her. he can be a little aggressive, knowing she likes when he bites back. he can be goofy and unserious. and he can be soft. he can be serious with her and about her. that’s what he wants. “wanted this for so long, baby. wanted you,” he murmurs into her ear. the sound makes her pussy flutter, causing him to chuckle again. “sh-shut up,” she mumbles, her hands slowly tightening around the sheets below them. the combination of his intimate confession and his thrusting into her is a double whammy that she didn’t see coming.

“mmm, I’m serious babygirl. want you, been wantin’ you,” he presses, eyes falling shut as his hips continue to move. she feels so good, it’s ridiculous. he’s going to be in it every day if she lets him. “gotta make you mine, ma. I’m forreal.” and he is, because what kind of idiot would he be to let her slip through his fingers? crys let’s her head fall back in a moan as he starts to gently work her clit. everything about this is just insane. who knew what today was going to bring? “y-you never… ah,” she cuts herself off with a moan as he curves his hips, fucking her in just the right way in such an intimate moment. fuck, what was she saying? “I never said anything, I know. s’my fault, no excuse. I was just too busy enjoyin’ bein’ around you,” he murmurs, moaning as he holds her tighter. his hips are starting to move a bit faster and crys is starting to meet his every thrust.

“but you mine now, right? I’ma do— fuuuck, I’ma do right by you, mama. always,” he groans. he means every word. it’s like she has a spell on him and he doesn’t care. if she wants his heart, she can take it. he leans back from the headboard, sitting up on his knees as he keeps her back against his chest. gosh, crys’ heart just flutters. “yeah,” she moans. “yeah, ony, m’yours. f-finally.” that puts a tired smile on ony’s face, his already racing heart squeezing. with one hand massaging her clit and the other now on her hip, ony begins fucking into her faster. “that’s right, baby. and I’m yours. can’t get rid of me, can’t push me away, sure as fuck not scarin’ me away,” he groans. i’d important to him that she knows that, with her lil stubborn ass.

crys reaches back behind her, grabbing onto him. “yeah, j-just like that, ony. me and youuu,” she moans, feeling that familiar sensation again. her body’s almost tired of it after so much teasing and edging and repeating. “gonna come for you, baby,” she groans. she has no fight left, it’s going to rock her and she knows it. “you gonna come for me?” he asks, his voice coming out breathy as he continues to thrust into her. he doesn’t remember the last time he felt as good as he does in this moment. he doesn’t want it to end, but he can’t hold anymore. she’s tight around him, pulsing as her release approaches once again. “paint my dick, baby, just like you said. then I’ma give you this nut,” he huffs, working his hips more and more. crys is a moaning mess, her head dipping as she feels another strong orgasm approaching. “keep breathin’,” ony croons. “want you to feel all that shit, mama.”

she breathes as even as she can, breaths deepening as she quickly approaches that line. “ohhh, ony!” she cries out, her eyes squeezing shut. ” let it out, baby, give it to me. give me that shit,” he groans to her, working her clout faster and faster as he keeps pumping into her. it’s all too much and it brings her over the edge, her toes almost cramping and hips moving without her knowledge. “there it goes, keep breathing. fuck yeah, mama, take that shit.” it’s an intense feeling and she’s chasing it, breathing like ony directs and it makes the difference. she feels the shit down to her toes. her eyes are crossed and she can’t even fucking speak, just taking whatever comes as her eyes shut tight. “that’s it, baby, feel that shit. know you feel good, I know,” he pants.

ony’s fucking into her faster, the way she’s clenching around him making his head spin. his grip tightens on her hip as he chases his own high, watching her fucked out face. she looks so good like that, spent and satisfied and his. “fuuuck, you so gorgeous, crystal. gahdamn you feel good as fuck,” he rambles, praising her over and over just because he can and she deserves it. soon, he’s pulling out and pumping himself all over her ass, groaning as his body jerks. “yeah, ony,” crys coos with a raspy voice. she’s giving a tired wiggle of her hips, encouraging him to spill all over her. “fuckin’ perfect.”

the two pant, spent from such a lovely day together. it’s silent as they just back in the afterglow of their impromptu endeavors. eventually, ony starts to press sweet, calming kisses to her shoulder and back. he appreciates the small marks on her skin, random beauty marks and freckles. “perfect, mama. you were perfect,” he rasps. as far as he’s concerned, today couldn’t have been more successful. crys is… well, crys is out of commission at the moment. her mind is fuzzy in her post orgasm bliss, and she’s catching her breath as she basks in his kisses. “fuck…” she mumbles. that was very unexpected but completely welcome. the wait was more than worth it, and now she can have that again and again and again. “yeah,” ony chuckles tiredly. “yeah, that was crazy. damn.”

the two laugh together, gross and sticky, but so happy with the situation. that line was finally crossed, and there’s no going back. not that either of them would want to, anyway. ony glances down at crys as she rests for a moment, eyes closed and lashes tickling her skin. the earlier tensions are gone, nothing but fondness and connection in it’s wake. he reaches to caress her cheekbone, tucking a curl behind her ear and out of her face. “sorry for earlier,” crys mumbles into the quiet. she really is, she doesn’t like when she projects her upset like that. she nevers wants that for anyone she’s connecting with, especially not ony. he’s been understanding with her in a way that she’s learned to deeply appreciate. “but I’m glad we did this.”

ony hums, pressing another kiss to her shoulder. he can deal with a little push from her, especially since he gets to keep her. she’s a sweet girl, and she invigorates him. he appreciates her expressiveness and range of emotions, and understands that sometimes she’s just human. he’s okay with that. but now that they’re together, he has the ability to take a different approach. sometimes she needs him to snap back at her, and that’s what he’ll do with absolutely no hesitation from now on. there’s a mutual respect and understanding, and ony really fucks with that shit. “just needed some attention… and dick,” he murmurs. and he’ll give it to her whenever, wherever.

crys groans and starts to fuss, turning to weakly slap at his chest. “oh, shut up! go get me a damn towel!” here he goes saying some slick shit, right when the moment is good. he’s such an idiot sometimes, but it never fails to put a smile on her face. ony lets out a bellowing laugh, backing off of her and standing on his only slightly wobbling legs. he hopes she didn’t see that, but she’s already talking shit again. “yeah, pussy got you walkin’ crazy,” she sasses as he starts his trek to the bathroom, watching his sweaty but oh so fine figure walk away. ”better act right or you’ll never get it again,” she huffs. ony laughs again, shaking his head. “don’t make me start this shit all over, crystal,” he calls over his shoulder. she rolls her eyes but nuzzles her face into a pillow as she grumbles under her breath. she’s not scared, she’s just still recovering, is all. “yeah, that’s what I thought,” he laughs.

soon, they’re all cleaned up and on fresh sheets, crys refusing to sleep in the crusty bedspread after everything was said and done. they get into a spat about who gets to sleep on which side of the bed, and then over whether they should sleep with some time of light on. ony also demands to cuddle, but crystal fusses that she’ll get too hot and won’t be able to sleep. for that brief period, it’s war.

eventually, though, after bargains and begrudging compromises, crys is on her back on her usual side of the bed and ony is half-sprawled on top of her, head buried in her neck and hand softly rubbing her outer thigh. a random sitcom plays with no sound and the room is a nice, cool temperature with the fan blowing on the both of them. crys caresses ony’s back gently with her nails, eyes closed as she enjoys the weight of him on top of her. the pleasant feeling is like a weighted blanket, lulling her to sleep. ony is holding crys close, enjoying her warmth and presence. he’s taking full advantage of being able to cuddle with her. they fall asleep like this, wrapped up in each other, and wondering what the next day will bring.

hoooooly moooooly. this was not supposed to be this long. was hoping to post this sooner, but the words just kept coming omg. pls excuse any mistakes lmao. hope you like it! feedback welcome and wanted 🫶🏽

#this was supposed to be 5k words #how did we get here #aot onyankopon #attack on titan #onyankapon #onyankopon smut #black oc #aot x black reader #aot x reader #ony x black reader #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon x you #writings — fic

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twijaxx · 1 day ago

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Fem! Nagi, Kaiser and Ness (separately) x Fem! reader, occ characters, fluff.

wc: 1,1k

Part 1. Isagi, Rin and Sae.

Nagi seishiro :x

This woman is too lazy to do anything! But for you? she will do everything (still in her lazy way)

Nagi forgot when she realized that she loves you, maybe it was when you two were eating instant noodles at her house? maybe it was when you cheered on her during one of her matches? ohh maybe it was when you took care of her when she was sick?? thinking about it is too much hassle.

Recently you two were in your two week Minecraft phase and ofc Nagi was the one mining, collecting materials and she actually focused on the game, but you? you just wanted to build a house for the two of you and have like a million cats inside, sadly you were SHIT at this game, couldn’t even build a simple house.

You decided to give up on building that house, you couldn’t even follow a simple tutorial on youtube and Nagi thought that you were so cute, struggling so hard to build a house for you two that will be abandoned in a week or so. So when you logged off she decided that she will build that house for you even if it was “too much of a hassle”

The next day you wanted to play on a sheared screen so she decided the two of you should meet up at her house. She was a little excited to see your reaction to that house she built, not talking about the surprise that was waiting for you inside.

When you finally opened Minecraft you saw that the house you really wanted was magically there :3 You hugged Nagi with so much joy, but when you went inside instead of million cats there were like ten wooden signs saying “I love you, please make me happy and be my girlfriend :x” You two still play on this server too these days.

Michael Kaiser :-

don’t think this woman ain’t rich too! ohh she loves spoiling u just like sae. And just like Sae and Rin, Kaiser was delusional too, but maybe a little less than them.

Shopping sprees, yea that was her thing, she loves doing that especially if it means making you look pretty and feel appreciated. Designer clothes, expensive jewelry, nails, eyelashes, hair done, everything you asked she bought you, nahhh you didn’t even have to ask she just text you “get ready i will be there in thirty, we are going shopping” how much money does she have?!

Picking you up in her expensive lamborghini (that’s so hot) going from this mall to another until you find something you like. When the two of you are done you don’t have a hand to hold the bags anymore. She laughs at you about this but after all she ain’t that mean (only when it comes to you) she will help you put the bags inside your house.

She loved you for such a long time but only managed to say “i love you” when she was drunk as hell at the parties you two were going to every other weekend. So you waited and waited until she finally got the courage to say it sober, but it never happened so you decided to took matters into your own hands.

Texting her “You come to my house this time, i got something special for you.” it wasn’t anything special compared to what she got you, just a simple dinner, couple of candles and wine. When she came to your house she was shocked that you did all this for her (will you blame her if she says that tears peaked at her eyes when you turned around?)

You two sat down at your kitchen table but on her plate was a note saying “Kaiser, I love you and I don't know how much time it has been. I’m tired of hearing you say that you love me every time you are drunk but then when you are finally sober you don’t say it again, i don’t know if you only say that in a friendly way or you seriously do mean it. I just wanted you to know that I do love you romantically and I want to be your girlfriend.”

She was speechless when she read that, but she would be a fool if she didn’t agree so she did and you two had the best night of your life.

Alexis ness :>

i think she is the most romantic of the 6 and she will do everything! for you

ohh Ness where do i start… maybe she is not that fancy like Kaiser and Sae but don’t underestimate her! she can do as much as they can, just in her own special way.

Ness will tag along everywhere you go, and by everywhere i serious mean everywhere. Shopping, walk in the park, cafe, even church if you are religious!

Ness realized she loves you when the two of you were sitting on some random playground. You two were eating ice cream but yours fell on the floor… You looked at her with your big doe eyes as tears almost peaked at them, without a second thought she offered you her’s and she never saw you this happy as at that moment.

And since that moment ohhh she been plotting so hard! She fell in love and didn’t even tried to deny it :3 But she wasn’t so obvious like Isagi was (you still knew tho) She tried sneaking little love notes around your house just in case you see them when she already leaves, and ohh boy you did see them but you wanted her to say it to your face not on some stupid note.

She knew you saw them cause every time she was at your house the previous note disappeared, she got fed up with your behavior but she decided that she will wait until valentines, and when valentines actually came she did all she could so you didn’t forget this day.

It wasn’t something really big, but for her actions speak louder than words, so she just invited you to her house for dinner, and then you two could maybe watch a movie? Everything was just like she imagined but wait.. she forgot to ask you the most important question of the night! So when you two already were getting ready to sleep she walked into her bathroom that you where just in (don’t worry u wasn’t nakey nakey) with roses in her hand, she got really close to you and said “[name] will you be my girlfriend?” she for sure had whole monologue prepared, but after just those 6 words you kissed her, the kiss wasn’t very long but it for sure had a lot of words you two wanted to say.

Tags: @isaisliterallyhim @laiko2real :3

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just-wrting · 1 day ago

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Think I Like You

Title: Think I Like You

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Half Mink!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Master List

Summary: You try to figure out why Zoro won’t take you seriously even if the answer isn’t what you expect.

A/N: I’m not dead! I’m just all over the place with a lot of stuff. I sleep a lot which I can’t tell if it’s a sleep issue or a depression issue, but I’m always tired. I still work full time but also do school part time now. Plus I’ve still got a boyfriend! But he wanted to end this weekend on 1062 which means Zoro brainrot for me.

You stretch and roll over, burying your face into your pillow. Ever since you changed where you nap, you've started sleeping so much better. Something about being more comfortable or something like that. The actual reason doesn't really matter. You're just happy you're sleeping better.

"You owe me for this."

"I don't owe you shit. Not my fault you nap in my spot." You reach up and pat his cheek. "What do I need to do for you to be quiet?"

"I already told you, you owe me."

You open your eyes just a little. "What could I possibly owe you? I don't like to drink, I don't keep money, not to mention I can't even tell if you're the type of man to be swayed by physical charms. What could I possibly offer you, Roronoa?"

"For starters, you can start referring to me by my name like everyone else does." He looks pissed. "You should fight me."

"You didn't take me seriously last time, Moss Head. Why would I bother trying again?"

He pulls on your ear. "I said like everyone else, not like how that idiot says my name."

You ignore him and bury your nose in his stomach. Dinner has been started, and if you don't ignore it you'll end up going to the kitchen early. It's less that Sanji minds seeing you, it's more of the fact that you struggle to suppress the urge to knock shit off the counter and dip your fingers in the sauces. Such is the life of someone like you.

You let yourself doze a little. You can still hear what's going on, but just like every common house cat, you ignore it. What you can't ignore is the gentle scratching behind your ears. As far as you remember, no one has done this since you were a kid. You don't hate the feeling, but you start to feel flustered over it. Ever since you left home, you've made sure affection comes at your own terms so you haven't had this in years.

There's no point in asking him to stop. You're clearly fond enough of him to nap on him, what's the big deal about getting ear scratches? Besides, he's the type to get embarrassed and loud if you point out you're awake. That's not something you feel like dealing with right now. You're too touch starved to complain.

Despite the comfortable conditions, you don't actually fall asleep. You spend the next forty-ish minutes pretending to sleep, waiting for dinner to be done. The time passes by relatively quickly, though you're sore afterwards. You couldn't bring yourself to even twitch, worried that he'd stop.

The dinner call goes off, and you pretend to wake up. You have no clue why you're acting, but it was too late to stop twenty minutes ago. Standing up, you stretch halfheartedly. At first, he doesn't say anything. It's only once he catches up to you that he starts asking questions.

"What's the deal with the noise you make?"

Raising an eyebrow, you look at him. "I don't snore, so I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm not stupid, I can tell you aren't snoring. The other noise, the one that's relaxing. I can usually feel it when you're laying directly on me."

"What do you mean? The other noise?" You pause to think it over before it clicks. "We aren't talking about that."

You know what he's referring to. It's not like it's something you can control, but it's still embarrassing. Of all people to be you around, it's been Zoro. No one on the crew has judged you for being what you are, it's just embarrassing to be a mix. Your mother's human, and your dad's a mink. You look decently human, just with a few quirks.

"What do you mean, we aren't talking about it? We're talking about it right now."

Your face starts to heat up. "I mean I don't want to tell you."

His eyes narrow in suspicion. "Why not? Is it supposed to be embarrassing or something?"

"If I say yes, will you drop it?"

"Yeah, sure."

His face instantly relaxes. If you could smack him, you would. The last time you tried, it hurt. So you put your hand on his shoulder and give him a push. The only thing it does is cause his other shoulder to hit the doorframe, but you use it to march past him.

You take your seat, leaning back against the armrest of the booth seat. Kicking your feet up on the space next to you, you watch the crew carefully. Everyone is smiling and in a good mood, so you don't have anything to worry about. You don't ever admit it, but you care about them even if it's difficult to show.

Zoro picks up your legs and lays them in his lap. Since it doesn't seem to bother him, you're tempted to just sit normally. You have no idea what's going on in that head of his, and you doubt he does either. However, you actually do enjoy touching him, so you'll stay like this for now.

There's more commotion as Sanji brings out the plates. The one you're most interested in is a large tuna fillet that gets set in the middle of the table. You can't stop staring at it, the tender flesh a beautiful golden color. It's hard to tell if it smells better than it looks or looks better than it smells. Sanji has never failed to impress you with his dishes, so you can't wait to sink your teeth in.

Before you can even start to load your plate, Sanji sets a small plate in front it you. It contains a disk of packed rice, some avocado slices, and chunks of fish. You're assuming it's more of the tuna. Whatever it is, it was made specifically for you.

You don't mind the special dishes. You'll try almost everything, and unlike Luffy, you'll eat it slow enough to give a review. Everything tastes good so you don't get the point, but it probably makes Sanji feel better to have honest reviews and not just someone who loves food fawning over his cooking. Though if you're not careful, you worry that he'll start having write an essay about it.

"And for you, a special tune tartare! If you like it, I'll make it again for everyone some time."

You nod. "Yeah, I'll let you know. I always do. Not that you've ever made a bad dish."

You can't stop the tip of your tail from flicking back and forth in mild annoyance. By the time you get halfway through the tartare, all of the fillet is gone. It's not like it's the biggest deal, you just wish you could've had some of that too. It's not fair that since you got a special tuna dish, that you don't get the other one.

"If you tell me what that noise was, I'll share," Zoro teases while pointing at you with a bite of tuna. "I bet you can't resist answering now."

"I'm a cat. I was making a normal noise that cats make. Consider it a compliment."

You lean forward and take the bite of tuna. It's flakey and melts on your tongue with a slightly sticky glaze that has hints of honey and garlic. You lick your lips savoring the balance of flavors. None of them are overwhelming, but it's hard to gauge in just one bite what you think about it.

"You can't just," Zoro stutters. "You can't just take the food off of my chopsticks. Get your own!"

You grab his wrist and lick the glaze off of the chopsticks. It feels like there's another flavor there that you can't quite tell what it is. It's some sort of herby flavor, that while you enjoy, you can't pin down.

"Here!" Zoro doesn't look at you as he shoves his plate towards you. "Just take it since I don't want your germs."

You want to tease him, but you'll leave him alone. It's better to leave it in front of other people since Robin's insinuations are becoming too much. For now you'll just eat the food. Later, you'll tease him.

—-

"You're still not taking me seriously, Roronoa. Why did you want to fight if you won't take me seriously?"

You lunge, hand reaching for his throat. He blocks it with his arm, causing your claws to dig into his skin. Using his arm as leverage, you pull yourself closer to him, swinging your sword at his side. His parry is effortless, and he looks bored. It's so aggravating that he won't take you seriously in a simple sparring match. Perhaps he'd take you more seriously if you actually tried to kill him.

You disengage before leaping over him. This time, you swing your sword at his neck as he turn around. It's once more blocked, and he smirks. You're just barely faster than him as he takes a halfhearted swing at your sword arm with his other arm. You catch the flat of the blade with your knuckles, steeling your arm against the shock wave of the blow.

Kicking your leg out in front of you, you aim for his knees, intending to bring him down. Despite the grip on his sword, he catches your ankle in his hand and pulls your leg to the side. You let your body pivot with the movement, twisting until your leg is behind you. You yank your foot forward as hard as you can, pulling him into your back.

He's quick to let your ankle go and grab your shoulder to steady himself. In a fluid motion, you swing your arm and grab your dagger. You flick it in your fingers and thrust towards his ribs. His hand trails down your arm to your wrist and pins it behind your back. He gives it a squeeze trying to get you to drop the dagger.

"Are you actually trying to kill him?" Nami tells from the side. "Are you stupid?"

You roll your eyes, sweeping your leg behind you and hooking Zoro's. Despite your efforts, you can't get him off balance, only causing him to take a step back. By now you're getting pissed off. You aren't a bad swordsman, it's just that this jerk is ridiculously smart in battle. This is probably the only time he'll use his brain all day.

You jerk your head back, hitting his jaw. The sound of the impact makes you regret it, knowing you'll feel like shit later. You manage to free yourself as he loosens his grip, and you elbow him as you twist back around. The only reason you're still going is because he won't take it seriously. It's like he finds it funny that he's able to fend you off so easily.

You rush towards him, tossing your weapons to the ground. Digging your claws into his shoulders, you use your momentum to knock him over. It only works because he's too busy rubbing his jaw to notice you in time. The two of you tumble to the deck, and you lean in as close as you can.

"Why won't you take me seriously? Is this just a game?"

Faster than you can blink, he's able to flip and pin you under him. He's even more smug than the last time you sparred, and you can't tell if you want to smack him or if you should kiss him. Not that you could smack him, he's got your hands above your head. While kissing him would let you win, you're not willing to fight that dirty in a friendly match.

"You're a brute, Zoro. You can't just manhandle the other crewmates just because you feel like it." Sanji pulls him off you. "If you were in the mood to fight I would've taken the offer."

You tune out their fight as Chopper checks your head and shoulder. You're a bit sore now, but you'll be fine in a few hours. Nothing keeps you down for long, even if it's usually just you going against the doctor's orders. The only thing actually bothering you is the fact that for a moment you thought he was going to answer your question. Though the fact you thought about kissing him is also an issue.

It's not difficult to figure out why you thought that way. Your parents made sure that you knew to find someone strong enough to protect you in case of something happening, even if you knew how to take care of yourself. That, and he's easy on the eyes. Even if he's an idiot half of the time, that doesn't matter. Your parents never said to find a smart man, just a strong one. Everything else was your choice.

Chopper hands you a damp towel, and you use to clean under your claws. Tiny spots of blood rest under them, probably from when you grabbed Zoro. If the pinprick wounds bothered him, he doesn't show it. He's too busy trying to shove Sanji off the boat. As long as you stay dry, it doesn't matter if they end up overboard. They can both swim.

After a few minutes, Nami separates them. You watch her glare at the men before you stalk off to take another nap. The sun is just starting to dip below the water, so finding a nice patch of sun to lick your figurative wounds isn't possible. You'll have to settle for sulking in some weird spot. Perhaps it's time to torment the fish in the tank once more.

Lounging on the sofa is probably the second best place to nap. The sound of the tank constantly humming while you watch the fish swim in tempting circles puts you at ease. You stretch out fully, let your arm and tail hang off the edge. The tip of your tails twitches slightly as you trace the movement of a particularly large bass. That should be tomorrow's lunch, perhaps in a stew. Even though it hasn't been long since you had food, your mouth starts to water at the idea of seafood stew.

"He really doesn't take you seriously, does he?"

You recognize Robin before she even speaks. Her stride is longer than Nami's with her steps being lighter than everyone else's. Not to mention she smells floral. It's never overpowering, but it allows you to pick her out from the crew.

"I guess not. Maybe I should've gone for his other eye."

She laughs, sitting down next to you. You aren't opposed to the company, especially if it's Robin. There something about her that puts you at ease.

"I don't think he'd like that," she muses. "What did he say to you?"

You scoff. "He didn't say anything. Bet he's too proud to take me seriously, like the jerk he is."

Robin smiles knowingly. "I'm sure he has his reasons. Maybe you should talk to him, just the two of you. I'm sure he'd tell you when no one else is around."

You frown. "What is he? A shy school boy? There's only one reason for not taking me seriously in a fight, and it would be him not thinking I'm even worth it. No point in having him tell me that in private, he can just keep it to himself."

She reaches out her hand, gently brushing your hair from your eyes. "Then what do you think about him?"

"I think he's an idiot who swapped out his brain for more muscles."

"Let me rephrase that. What feelings do you have about him?" There's a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "At least figure that out."

You shift so you can place your head in her lap. "I guess he's fine most of the time. I don't know why I enjoy his company, I just do. He's never really pushed me on anything, just sort of letting me do my own thing. Not to mention he's comfortable. As much as I hate admitting it, I suppose I like being around him."

She continues to brush your hair with her fingers silently. It's one of those tactics of hers. She'll stay quiet until you keep talking.

"What do you want me to say? He's nice enough to me, I can respect him as vice-captain, and he's decent looking. Everything else I think about him is my little secret." You're starting to get irritated talking about him. "Actually, I think I'll go talk to him now. I'll drag that answer out of him if I have to."

Robin looks at you with worry as you sit up. "Perhaps this is just a misunderstanding. What are you going to do if his answer isn't what you expect?"

"I'll deal with it when it happens," you say with a shrug. "It's not like it'll be anything surprising."

You take your time wandering around the ship. It's not hard to tell where he is, you'd rather put it off for a little bit longer. This weird feeling in your chest has been bothering you a lot lately. It can't be ignored anymore, but that doesn't mean you're one hundred percent ready to admit it.

Thankfully, he's exactly where you knew he was. You won't tell him that you enjoy finding him when he's working out. Something about him being shirtless is nice. Not that he usually bothers with wearing a shirt, so you can usually just stare whenever you want. Maybe he just likes the attention, and you'll gladly give it to him.

As soon as he leans back on the bench, you sit on his lap and stretch out over his torso. You rest your chin on your hand, pressing your palm on his chest. Watching as he sets the barbell back on the stand, you wait for him to start talking. It would be fine with you if he kept working out, but he seems opposed to the idea.

"Is bothering me amusing to you?"

You tilt your head slightly. "You're not cute when you're mad, so no. I was just hoping we could talk."

"You don't have to sit on me to talk."

"That's just personal preference. Besides, you tend to avoid talking about certain things and this keeps you from leaving." you say with a Cheshire grin. "I enjoy your touch, so this is ideal for me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Zoro looks away from you. “You keep saying weird stuff.”

You don’t even blink as you respond, “I enjoy your touch. That’s what that means. I’ll even be nice and tell you the answer to your question from earlier. As a cat, I sometimes purr when I feel comfortable and content. Though some cats purr when scared.”

“So you’re scared of me? Is that what that means?”

“No. The only thing particularly scary about you is the fact that you’re an idiot.” Your ears twitch. “But since I answered your questions, you can answer mine. Why don’t you fight me seriously?”

He looks at you for just a moment, before looking at the ceiling. It’s like he’s embarrassed by the answer and is hoping you’ll forget about it. However, you’ve already made up your mind about what you want. You’re just waiting to see what he’ll do.

“I-,” Zoro cuts himself off to hide behind his hand. “I could hurt you really bad. That would be bad.”

Your tail swishes on the ground in mild irritation. “So you think I’m incapable of defending myself. That would explain the times you’ve interrupted my fights.”

“It’s not that!” He sits up, wrapping an arm around your waist to make sure you don’t tumble to the ground. “I don’t want you to get hurt if I’m around. It’s my job to make sure you’re safe.”

You’re nose to nose with him now. Even at this distance, he can’t seem to make eye contact. You can smell the liquor from dinner on his breath. It would be so easy to close the gap and kiss him, but for some reason the thought makes you nervous. You’re usually close to him, so why is this time different?

“Why should you keep me safe?” you mumble. “Do you save me out of obligation for the crew? If so, aren’t there better people on the crew to swoop in and save?”

“Does it matter why?” The way that his lips almost touch yours as he speaks makes you flustered.

You close your eyes. “Yes. I don’t want to get my hopes up if you think of me as nothing more than a burden of a crew-mate. Just be honest with me for once, Zoro.”

You don’t regret the soft begging tone as you say his name. You regret not saying his name in that almost pathetic tone sooner. The way that he kisses you makes your head spin. Even though he’s holding you close, you have to wrap your arms around his neck to make yourself feel more steady.

Zoro kisses you like he’s been wanting to for months. His hold on your waist makes it impossible to move, and the way that his hand grips yours hair makes you moan. You can barely breathe as his tongue explores your mouth, your grip on reality slipping as his fingers dig into thigh.

Even when he pulls away to let you breathe, you find yourself lost in the way he touches you. Sloppy kisses trail down your jaw and neck, coming to an end with his teeth on your collarbone. The way that his fingernails scrape gently against your scalp as he tugs lightly on your hair causes you to expose more of your chest to him as you lean into his palm.

You’ve never felt like this before. Hot, heavy, and breathless all while being lightheaded. You wouldn’t have it in you to resist him if he wanted more. In fact, the pathetic words of begging him to ravish you weigh heavy on your tongue. Yet he just continues to press kisses along every inch of skin exposed to him, ignoring how hard you’re panting as little moans escape you. He’s oblivious to everything but the act of kissing you.

Zoro only pauses after you tug his hair harshly. You didn’t mean to, you couldn’t help the reaction to him biting down on the side of your neck. You couldn’t even help the strangled groan that leaves you as he leaves a mark. For some reason, your body is shaking like you have some sort of withdrawal.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice rough and low.

You kiss him again, desperate to get as close as you can. Desperation courses through your body as you realize just how badly you’ve waited for this. You’ve spent months being almost attached to him so it makes sense, you just can’t figure out how you missed it. The long nights spent curled up in his lap, face buried in his neck has left you craving him so much.

You whine as he pulls away, unwilling to let this stop. It doesn’t even matter anymore how prideful you’ve been up until this. It’s so obvious how much you want him. Nothing could hide it anymore.

“Zoro.” You don’t even open your eyes. “Please.”

He gives your thigh a tight squeeze as you whimper. You can tell that what little restraint he has is fading with each whine of his name. Yet he’s able to pause and hold you close, breathing heavily into your ear. Eventually, he covers your mouth with his hand, stifling your words.

“Not like this,” Zoro says, his tone meaning he’s serious. “If you really want it, I want to make it special.”

“S-special?” You don’t know what that means. When was the last time someone told you that you were special? “How?”

“Just better than in the exercise room on the Sunny. You deserve to be treated better than that.”

You nod, and he lets his grip loosen. Despite the fact that nothing much happened, you feel drained. Maybe it’s because you really enjoy naps, but the exhaustion is hitting you hard. You don’t hide it, letting yourself go limp as Zoro picks you up.

“You can sleep in my bunk tonight. Not that it matters if I say you can as you usually show up anyway.”

You caress him jaw before giving his cheek a kiss. “Thank you, Zoro.”

The flush on his cheeks goes unnoticed by all beside you. Not that it matters, you don’t want to hide your feelings for him any longer. If he agrees to it, you’ll parade your feelings for the world to see.

#reader insert #one piece #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #zoro #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x reader #op zoro

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red-riot-unbreakable-heart · 2 days ago

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Shoto's First Kiss Chapter 9 Update

Okay so Shoto's First Kiss Chapter 9 is almosttttt done! I've just about finished writing it out but it's gonna need hella edits, so expect it to drop next weekend or Valentine's day weekend? Thanks for your patience here all! It will be a 40-50 page chapter. There's a lot to cover!!!

Posting a snippet of Chapter 9 below as a holdover - the plot is ofc subject to change! But want you to enjoy a lil dramaaaa while you wait! :)

“Well…” Toru says nervously into the phone.

“What?” Hitoshi says blankly, turning to you for an explanation about your friend’s uneasiness with that piece of the plan.

“So. Um. Mineta didn’t volunteer to be our distraction out of the kindness of his heart.” You say awkwardly as Hitoshi’s tired eyes bore into your own. “We promised him that he’d get to kiss me in exchange for his services as bait for Mr. Vlad.”

“Damn. Offering sexual favors in exchange for services rendered? You guys are way more hardcore than I thought.” Hitoshi actually looks impressed. “So hopefully Mineta didn’t say anything about that fun little bargain to Mr. King after he got caught. Sexual Quid Pro Quo is definitely grounds for some kind of legal action or punishment.”

The blood in your veins goes cold. Shit.

“But it was his idea!” Mina shrieks through the phone’s tiny speakers. You wince at the sound. You feel shaky like you might start crying again.

“Yeah but you all agreed to it. And Mineta held up his end of the bargain. This could be really bad if the school found out about it.”

Neito mouths something angrily on the screen and the corner of Hitoshi’s mouth quirks upwards fondly.

“Neito…you’re on mute, babe.” He says in that gravely voice of his.

Monoma quickly unmutes himself and repeats what he was saying:

“But it’s only a kiss! It’s not like we promised Y/N would sleep with him or anything!” He says, gesturing wildly. His face is a bit pink in response to Hitoshi’s using such an unexpected term of endearment.

“It doesn’t matter…you still made a trade of a physical favor for a service. I don’t know what kind of punishment they’d slap you with, but this sort of thing would definitely rub the UA administration the wrong way if they found out about it. Let’s just hope Mineta didn’t say anything too incriminating. I can stop by his dorm and ask him before I got to bed, if you’d like.” Hitoshi smirks. “I think he’s afraid of me, so I’d probably be the best person to do it.”

“Could you, please?” You say in a strained voice. Hitoshi looks over and sees how pale you’ve gone, he awkwardly pats your shoulder in what he must think is a reassuring way.

“Yeah, for sure. It’ll be fine. You’ll see.” He retracts his hand from your shoulder and gives you a thumbs up.

“Alright. I think we’ve mostly got our story straight. Don’t mention the alcohol. Don’t mention me needing to kiss Mineta. Don’t mention Hatsume. Don’t mention Spin The Bottle. Say we wanted to throw a game night to promote unity and bonding between Classes A and B. We good?” You quickly recap, counting off your fingers as you make each statement. “Dang, that’s a lot to keep track of.”

Everyone nods to confirm that they’re aligned (Toru doesn’t say anything to indicate that she’s not aligned, so you assume she’s invisibly nodding).

A message appears at the top of your phone screen from Shoto, a tiny preview of his text reads out in a bubble:

Shoto: You doing alright?

You quickly move to swipe the bubble away, hyperaware that Hitoshi can see any message that flashes across your screen. You quickly remind yourself that it’s not weird for your classmates to check up on you - you’re one of the party ringmasters, after all! And the message Shoto had sent was completely innocent, so…

Another message from Shoto scrolls across the screen as Toru rattles off a list of questions for Hitoshi to ask Mineta. You try to swipe the message away but you accidentally pull up the text screen over your friend’s FaceTime faces.

Shoto: This sounds awful to say, but getting to sneak away with you to the janitor’s closet almost makes getting caught worth it.

You swipe desperately to get the text screen to disappear and after a moment succeed. Toru is still speaking, saying something about Hatsume’s drones. You throw a terrified glance at Hitoshi’s direction. He’s looking at you, violet eyes wide with shock. His eyebrows are comically far up his forehead.

Oh yeah, he definitely just got a glance at Shoto’s text.

Oh God. Now he knows.

“Alright, Hagakure.” Hitoshi quickly turns back to the screen and nods in agreement at whatever your friend is saying. His facial expression instantly falls back to neutral –his eyebrows relaxing and his eyes narrowing back to their usual lazy squint. You stare straight ahead and try to keep all of your blood from rushing to your face. You feel hot all over but in a bad way. You don’t know Hitoshi super well, but you know he’s a good person. He wouldn’t spill your biggest secret to the world, right?

Hitoshi seemingly ignores you as he continues talking into the FaceTime. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Alright, I’ll ask him all of that. I think we’re all on the same page – get a good night’s sleep everyone.”

Good nights are exchanged, and one by one your friends drop off the call. Hitoshi clicks off your phone so that the screen goes back. He slowly turns to you, his expression still uncharacteristically surprised.

His voice is as even and measured as ever when he says:

“Holy shit, Y/N. How long have you been fucking Shoto Todoroki?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

HAHAHAHAA Okay so yeah that's part of Chapter 9! I'll keep plugging away and hopefully will have it your way soon! For now, here's the rest of the series to catch up on <3

Shoto's First Kiss Series so far:

Part 1: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋

Part 2: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 2

Part 3: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 3

Part 4: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 4

Part 5: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 5

Part 6: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 6

Part 7: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 7

Part 8: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 8

XOXO,

Red Riot Unbreakable Heart ❤️

P.S. Here's the link to my 🔥Master List! 🔥 I just posted a new story feat. a super hot and mushy Touya Todoroki if you're into that sort of thing: Touya Todoroki: Sexy Uber Driver!? | Touya x Reader AU Imagine 🌶 💕

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gensideas · 2 days ago

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I’M JUST ONE CLICK AWAY .

summary . rafe is always available for y/n.

content * advisory . Body shaming, a little angst, but most of all fluff¡

It started off simple, only calling rafe when you needed your pipes fixed, something was too heavy, hanging up the TV, etc.

then, it got more frequent. asking him if he was ever free, or he would call you to see if you wanted to be his plus one to an event. Of course you never denied him. If anything, you loved accompanying him whenever he asked. It was sweet really, always having time to talk to each other or just simply hanging out no matter the time.

This time, it was a little different. instead, you both were getting ready together. You never knew where or how it started but, it just did. It was comforting, and relaxing.

“rafey” you spoke as you finished the finishing touches to your make up. “Yes, sweetheart?” he replied, leaning on the doorframe. “Which dress do you think i should wear? the red one or the navy blue one?” you asked, holding both dresses up. “hmmm…” he hummed, walking up to you. “I think the navy blue will look amazing on you.” “Well then, navy blue it is.” you responded, placing the red one down, smiling at rafe. “i’ll be right back!” “I'll be waiting baby.”

“Alright, how do I look?” you asked, stepping out of the bathroom. “You look sexy always baby.” Rafe replied, placing his hands on your waist. you looked up at him, placing a peck on his lips. He held your face, deepening the kiss. you pulled apart, earning a groan from him. “hey hey, don’t get so grumpy, we’re gonna be late if we don’t hurry.” you smiled, walking up to your vanity. “yeah yeah” rafe replied, clearly staring at your ass but, he couldn’t think about too much right now. you had placed to be.

Soon enough, you made it to the party he invited you to. you both walked up and got greeted by a tipsy barry, “country club, i'm glad you two could make it.” Barry spoke, slightly slurring his words. “yeah, you know i couldn’t by myself.” Rafe replied, smiling down at you. Barry stepped aside, letting the both of you step inside. it was quite honestly, you didn’t think Barry would be the type to decorate.

“I'm gonna go get a drink baby, do you want anything?” Rafe asked, holding your waist. “no rafey, im okay. thank you.” you smiled. He nodded, walking towards the bar. “y/n!” you heard someone shouting your name. as soon as you turned around one of your friends ran up to hug you. it caught you by surprise, a little overwhelmed by it, but at last you hug her back. “Hi! how are you?” you asked, walking with her towards the couch. “I’m good, thank you for asking.”

meanwhile, in the bar.

“so, how’s it goin’ with little miss y/n?” kelce asked, taking a sip of his drank. “it’s going really good actually. a lot better than i hoped.” rafe smiled, thinking of you. “aye, im glad it’s goin’ for you man. you deserve it.” Topper spoke up. “yeah man, i mean after the shit with sofia, it was well deserved.” kelce laughed. rafe didn’t like the thought of thinking about sofia. not after everything that happened with groff. Ignoring the question, rafe just takes a sip of his drink. He turned around trying to look for you, but he couldn’t find you. he’d figure you’d be with your friends like you are in the beginning of these types of events. So, he returned to talking to his friends.

“so you and rafe huh?” a girl sitting in front of you spoke. “yeah, we’re a thing, why?” you smiled, questioning why she’d said that. “it’s just, i didn’t expect him to be with someone so..” she stop mid way. “so what?” you asked, giving her a confused look. “so..big.” she finished, trying to hold in her laugh. you just stared at her, questioning why she would say that. Without saying a word, you got up and walk towards the balcony. You could hear her along with her friends laughing as you walked away. “Y/n wait!” your friend yelled after you. “dont. just let her go, she needed to hear it anyway.”

you tried not to cry, the whole time you’d looked good then, someone had to go and ruin it for you. In the process of trying to calm down, you started to feel a lump in your throat form. Causing you to feel like you can’t breathe. Rafe wasn’t there to help you so, you were scared you’d have to do it all by yourself.

you didn’t know but, rafe had already been looking for you but, he couldn’t find you. That’s when he heard his phone ring. “yeah guys hold on.” rafe stopped, and moved to a quieter spot to pick the phone. “Y/n baby, what’s going on?” rafe worried, wondering why you sounded so distressed. “rafe, i cant breathe. i-i don't know what to do and i don't know where you are.” you said, holding onto your chest. “okay baby, slow down. where are you right now?” Rafe asked, trying to search for you. “I'm at the balcony please, i c-cant breathe.” “you cried, feeling the panic attack get worse. “alright baby, stay right there. im walking towards you.” he hung up, running towards you.

“hey hey hey, it’s okay. take a deep breath, i’ll do it with you, ready?” he spoke, leaning down towards you. you nodded, following him, trying to stimulate your breathing. “you’re okay baby, shh” he held you tight, feeling his heart tear while listening to you struggle slightly. “you all better?” rafe asked, kissing your forehead. “yeah, I'm okay now.” you smiled, following up with another question, “can we go home?” you asked, getting up. “yeah of course we can.” rafe responded, placing his hand on your lower back.

as you walked towards his car you spoke up.“thank you for being there. I couldn't find you, so I called you.”

“it’s okay baby, no need to apologize. you needed my help.” rafe replied, opening the side door for you. you waited for him go hop in the driver side to continue speaking. “i know but, you were conversating with your friends. i didnt mean to-“

You were caught off guard when rafe kissed you. you slightly whimpered when he pulled apart from you. “baby, like i said you needed me when you were having a panic attack. i’d stop anything for you.” he smiled when he watched you giggle. “never forget what I told you baby.” you looked confused as he started the car, backing out the driveway.

“I’m just a click away.”

#rafe cameron x female reader #rafe fluff #angst with a happy ending #angst #drew starkey x reader #outerbanks rafe #obx season 4 #fluff #drew starkey #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #zach maclaren

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dragqueenstarscream · 1 day ago

Note

got hit w/ a rouge period cramps ray and needed a pick-me-up

would love to hear your thoughts on TFP Soundwave and/or TFA Lockdown, just general fluff/smut headcanons

- 💫

ooooo, alright! haven't done anything with these two before, let's see what i can come up with

tfp soundwave x cybertronian!reader hcs

sfw:

- soundwave is a bot of... well, no words, so any affection he'll give you is through physical touch or acts of kindness.

- for physical touch, this means staying at your side, offering you a servo if you need it, just generally being in your presence.

- this also includes hugs from his tentacles, mainly because his arms are a little clunky.

- for acts of kindness, this mainly revolves around your physical health. he'll get you energon if you need it, stay with you during recharge, and give you a thorough examination post battle to make sure that you aren't badly damaged.

- if you are, you're going straight to knock out, and knock out knows better than to test the wrath of a quiet bot.

- while he can't kiss you, he will press his forehelm to yours, kinda like a cat. it's pretty sweet, honestly.

nsfw:

- alright. let's get this one out of the way. yes, he is using his tentacles on you in the berth, whether it be tying you up with them or using them on your valve.

- on a similar note, soundwave has a thing for seeing you tied up. something about seeing you prone and helpless before him gets his engine revving.

- let's get one thing straight here: you're at soundwave's mercy in the berth. he's the one in control, no matter what.

- don't try to push his buttons, because soundwave's punishments are near hellish.

- he won't deny you of interface, oh no. he'll give you exactly what you want. he'll tie you up and make you overload over and over again, without giving you any rest in between, until you're wrung out, exhausted, and unable to speak properly or think straight.

- then, only then, will he untie you from your binds and give you the aftercare you need. he may be meaner than megatron in the berth, but he's not completely sparkless.

tfa lockdown x cybertronian!reader hcs

sfw:

- contrary to how he is with other bots, lockdown is surprisingly affectionate with you.

- getting affection from lockdown is like getting loved on by a tiger. he's very touchy and possessive, getting agitated if any other bots get close to you.

- and this bots LOOOOOVES touch. he usually has his arms around you or his chin resting on your shoulder.

- considering he doesn't have loyalty to anyone else, his attachment to you is something the decepticons find very weird, but he doesn't give a shit.

- he's always calling you pet names. always. it's to the point where you're starting to wonder if he forgot your actual name. you still think it's cute, though.

nsfw:

- MAJOR daddy kink. it's a pretty easy way to tell if he's in the mood. if he starts calling himself daddy, he wants to frag.

- he can't keep his servos off of you. he's constantly groping your chest, your ass, and especially your thighs.

- he's got a mouth that could put a pornstar to shame, both in that he's an expert dirty talker and in that he loves giving oral, even with the big chin.

- one of his favorite things is to leave marks all over you, especially in places where other bots can see them. good luck trying to cover them up; he'll always find a way to leave more.

#hope i got the characters right!#transformers #soundwave #lockdown #transformers prime #tfp soundwave #transformers animated #tfa lockdown #soundwave x reader #lockdown x reader #headcanons #valveplug #answering things

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veritas-scribblings · 3 days ago

Text

cherish - @rosekillermicrofic - words: 890 [mature: some thoughts of cannibalism]

Whomever thought that 18 years of age would be the correct age to force Evan, Barty and Regulus to be entirely self-sufficient obviously had a lot more faith in them than they ever really should have. Evan is fully prepared to admit that he, being raised in the depths of pureblood aristocracy, is high and proud about many things. His ability to independently care for the three of them is generally one of those things.

Normally. But it is surprising what hunger can do to a man.

There’s no fucking food in their home.

For all the collective intelligence and skill between Evan, Barty and Regulus, it has apparently never occurred to any of them that food doesn’t just magically appear, no matter how great their magical aptitude. Food, unfortunately, actually needs to be purchased, prepared and/or cooked in order to actually be consumed.

There are several bottles of tequila and whiskey on the kitchen bench (the essentials, according to Barty), a jar of preserved horned slugs (because Regulus is a freak), and a sad browning lime.

And now it’s 1.27am and Evan has reached the stage of hunger where his stomach feels like it’s begun to consume itself, and he just doesn’t know where to find food at such an unholy hour of the morning. Unfortunately, this is not a life skill his pureblood upbringing bestowed upon him.

“I once robbed a bakery,” Barty muses. Laying on his back staring at the ceiling (vaulted, Regulus had informed them when they’d all moved in), Barty throws a bouncy rubber ball up and down. It goes thunk, thunk, thunk against the wood.

“I once robbed a bakery,” he repeats when he doesn’t get a reaction. “Just a little one. A…little robbery. It was 6am in the morning and I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a run and…you know, bakeries start…baking…early. Could smell it all the way from down the road. So I went in. Enchanted the bread sticks to chase the owner out.”

Barty is so full of shit. He never robbed a bakery, Evan is sure, because Barty would have surely brought him or Regulus along. Larceny is not a crime one should be committing alone. And, Evan thinks, Barty sometimes forgets how memorable he is, what with being the son of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement…and just a little bit bat-shit crazy.

“It was run by this little old muggle grandmother,” he says. He throws the rubber ball again. Thunk. Thunk. “One of those old French-style bakeries…”

“Boulangerie,” Evan supplies, because being raised in the pureblood aristocracy is useful for some things, like appearing cultured even when Barty doesn’t actually care about such things.

“Boulangerie,” Barty repeats dutifully. His expression is distant, almost glassy, and the emerald green of his fringe has fallen across his eyes. “Made off with a bag of pastries. Ate ‘em on the way home.”

“You did not.”

"Did too."

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Evan tries to grab the stupid bouncy ball, but Barty is too quick for him and palms it away before throwing it at the far wall across their lounge. Again and again.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Perhaps…stomach growling, Evan glances side-long at Barty, who is deep in thought. Perhaps Evan could eat Barty, and not in the kinky sense of the word. He could sink his teeth into the rich, golden flesh of Barty’s neck. Of Barty’s arms. The expanse of Barty’s back. The ropes of muscles Barty has developed after so many sleepless nights of running the streets around their home because he has endless reserves of energy.

He could eat Barty, flesh and blood and bone. Digest him. Become one with him.

See, Barty has a smell about him that is deep and heady. A smell that Evan loves, so thoroughly masculine in its warmth. When they were younger and Barty was just hitting the peak of adolescence, it would bother Evan endlessly because it would be everywhere permeating every aspect of their dormitory. The smell would cling to Barty’s clothes. To Evan’s clothes and Regulus’s clothes, that somehow also became Barty’s clothes. To Barty’s bedsheets. To all their bedsheets.

And Evan was sure at the time that his raging hormones (and raging horniness and general raging obsession) would get him in trouble.

That Barty would see it or feel it, somehow notice it, even through the layers of robes they’d had to wear, that Evan entertained filthy thoughts and dreams about him. And Barty would realise that he’d made a terrible miscalculation when he’d decided to claim Evan as his and Regulus’s shared territory, and it would be the end of it all for Evan.

So, thank fuck for Evan that Barty–for all his intelligence–is so fucking oblivious.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Evan had once been so proudly sure that he was past all of that. The adolescent obsession. The adolescent angst. The terror of losing both of his best friends to the depths of his depravity.

Only, laying on his back next to Barty, Evan realises he’s still caught in the corner between ‘fucked’ and ‘doomed’ with no way out.

His stomach grumbles.

It’s hollow. Like he’s hollow. He thinks, dimly, through the haze of his ravenous hunger, that he could fill himself with Barty. Every nerve. Every cell.

And the hollowness might just pass.

#harry potter #fanfiction #microfics #myfanfiction #evan rosier #barty crouch junior #rosekiller #myothermicrofics

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glam0urgh0ull · 3 days ago

Note

CAN WE KNOW ANYTHING MORE ABOUT ZACH AND JEFF? Or with zach and any other characters like EJ and/or Toby?

YES OF COURSE, YALL DONT KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE WHEN YOU GUYS ASK ABOUT ZACHARY!! 🙈

-----------------------------------------------

Zachary's relationships with Other Pr⦻xies/Pastas!

➳ Jeff the Killer 🔪

Jeffery Woods exhibits very severe antisocial and sociopathic behavior. He’s frustrated with everyone around him trying to understand him when he can barely understand himself. He has a negative outlook on life and is very selfish and narcissistic, these feelings lead to frequent fits of violent rage. All of these factors make Jeffery Woods a very hard person to get along with, many of the proxies have actually come to dislike Jeff due to his poor behavior. Except for one, Zachary Phelps.

Zachary is an irresponsible and aggressive jackass, and one of the few proxies who are consistently affected by the Slender Sickness. The reality-warping torture messing with his head, his drug addiction-along with the brutal withdrawals-has only making things worse, wearing down what little sense of reason he had left.

Zachary and Jeff will often act as if they’re both one second away from tearing each other's throats out, but in reality, the two of them are practically joined at the hip. Both are short-tempered, irrational, and prone to violence-and when nights out doesn't go according to plan, then all hell will break loose in no time. Verbal arguments will quickly escalate into full-on brawls until somebody pulls them apart or they are too beat up to continue. But for all the screaming, swinging, and shit-talking, they’re both very oddly attached to each other.

➳ Toby Erin Rogers 🍂

Toby Erin Rogers is infinitely more understanding and empathetic when put side by side with proxies like Jeffery Woods and Zachary Phelps. He is absolutely loyal to Slenderman, following every order, mission, and task without question.

However, unlike the rest, Toby would have clear boundaries when it comes to people he kills for Slender. He will not lay his hands on any women or children, because he believes that would make him too much like the man his stepfather was. Thankfully, Slenderman has never challenged this rule and Toby has thus far been able to enforce it without any punishment. However, Zachary is the kind of guy who goes in and out with a bang-explosives, guns, whatever gets the job done in the most destructive way. Collateral damage? Civilians caught in the crossfire? Doen't faze him one bit. Every stunt he pulls, the risks of getting arrested skyrocket, but he simply does not care.

Toby, on the other hand, hates the recklessness, the complete disregard for innocent lives, and the lack of control involved in it. Being around Zachary is a draining experience, as it is like standing next to a box of flares with lit fuses and awaiting an inevitable explosion. But Zachary? He loves Toby. Not in a way he'd ever say out loud, but deep down, he admires him. Sees in him something he could never be-someone with restraint, someone who still has their shit together. Someone who still gives a damn.

➳ Eyeless Jack 🩻

Eyeless Jack, previously known as Jack Nyras, was a medical student with a bright future ahead of him—until the night when fate took a turn on him. Jack was lured into the forest and sacrificed by a girl whom he had trusted. He was made into some grotesque, monstrous demon, cursed with an insatiable hunger for flesh. His body, animalistic and twisted, served as a further reminder of the disgusting, vile creature that he had come to truly detest with every passing day.

Jack struggles to accept what he has become and what he's done for Slenderman. The countless lives he has taken just because of his own gluttony leaves him drowning in his own guilt and mental torment. Often to the point where Jack punishes himself for his bloodlust by starving himself for days on end. Then again, no matter how much he punishes himself or indulges in his urges, the hunger always remains. Never satisfied. Constantly gnawing away at him on the inside.

Because of this, Jack hasn't allowed himself to be around the other proxies, he couldn't. Not when he's a risk. So, Jack avoids everyone as much as he can. Therefore, Zachary hasn't seen him all that much and doesn't have an clear opinion on him. Jack, on the other hand? He's seen just enough of Zachary to know that if they ever stuck in a room with each other, he would end up ripping the poor guy's throat out. So, for his own peace of mind and Zachary's safety, Jack would rather keep as much space between them as possible.

#creepypasta #artists on tumblr #creepypasta oc #glamourghoul #oc x canon #jeff the killer #writng #ben drowned #ticci toby

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famesau · 3 days ago

Note

Because I’m on my sappy shit rn, how about some sfw hcs for Sean, Arthur, and Kieran having their hair played with/getting a back massage/etc?

Sure thing!! I don't write for Arthur or Sean but I'll make an exception!! Sorry if these seem ooc for Sean or Arthur!<3

A/n: The Sean is from Pinterest!! The other two are mine :3

Sean

He's always asking you to play in or fix his hair. Sometimes it feels like he purposely gets his hair messy just so you can fix it for him. But each time he asks you don't say no. You'll try to but he's VERY persistent, he'll even try to pull you away from your chores just so you can fix his hair. Though it can be annoying his reaction afterward is always worth it.

This is one of the few times he'll be quiet too, he's fallen asleep many times while you played in his hair. At the start, he's very fidgety and talkative but the longer it goes on the more likely he is to fall asleep (The others would thank you for putting him to sleep, he's a nuance XD)

If you play in his hair while he's "working" he'll try and get you to keep going or try to give his chores to someone else (most times it's unsuccessful)

On days when he actually works, he'll come to you complaining about how tired and sore he is and ask for a back massage. He usually asks for a soft massage, liking the feeling of your hands gently rubbing their way down his back. You will have to remind him often to sit still tho. He loves getting his shoulders rubbed the most, it's his weak spot.

Arthur

He's not one to ask you to play in his hair but he really loves it after a long day. He prefers it when you randomly play in his hair, doesn't matter when but he really likes it when you play in his hair when he sleeps. After a hard day just sitting next to you while you play in his hair can help ease all his worries.

When you play in his hair (when he's sitting next to you or in bed) He'll stop whatever he's doing and just lean into your touch. He'll sigh and groan here and there but for the most part, he's quiet. Eyes closed and all.

If you play in his hair while he's working he won't be bothered by it, sometimes he gives you a forehead kiss and lets you know he's busy and that you can play in his hair more later. ( he knows if he let you continue he wouldn't get any work done pfft-)

Arthur adores deep tissue massages, especially on his neck and shoulders. He's always working and tense so a deep tissue massage is always the way to go after being on his feet all day. He'll ask you for one but if you agree prepare to have sore hands after. He prefers slow and long massages but if you need a break he won't complain.

Kieran

He won't flat out ask you most of the time but he's terrible at hiding the fact that he wants you to play in his hair. He'll stare at you and your hands more than he already does but won't say anything. You've gotten good at picking up on his body language so he doesn't have to ask you often. Anytime you play in his hair it instantly relaxes him and makes him sleepy.

He likes to sit between your legs when you play in his hair so he can lean against you. He's also the quiet time when you play in his hair. He'll lean against you and hold onto your legs, gently rubbing them as he tries to make small talk. Afterward (if he's up lol) he'll offer to play in your hair.

If you play in his hair while he's working he gets very skittish, a little startled at first but he calms down when he sees it's just you. He'll try and hold a conversation with you so you can keep going.

He prefers lower back and spine massages. He's always doing more chores than most folk, feeding and taking care of the horses, etc, so he's always sore in his lower back. He won't ask for a massage but will never say no when you offer one. He does squirm a lot and is a bit noisy but it's nothing you can't handle.

Hope these will do! <33

#rdr2 #red dead 2 #red dead redemption 2 #kieran duffy #arthur morgan #rdr2 x reader #headcanon #sean macguire

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thegeeksideofsr · 22 hours ago

Text

Over Heated

An: just a lil silly fic, not proof read

***********************************************

Florida. The job has to be in Florida during the hottest month of the year. The kind of heat that makes you irritable and constantly sweaty.

Best way to survive at this point is shorts tank tops and an AC unit on high enough to make a room a freezer.

The job was a relatively quick and easy. But now we have to wait for our flight tomorrow, at two in the afternoon.

The team is currently occupying a table in a pub. Good food, cold drinks, and music that doesn't make me want to kill someone.

The thought of cool shower and the bed awaiting me is helping with the homicidal urge. And food helps too, I suppose.

The only downside to the hotel is that I have to share with Eliot. Not that he's a bad roomie, he's actually excellent. Neat and thoughtful, especially because someone thought it would be funny to put us in a single bed room, and that someone knows that I like Eliot a little bit, and now we have to share a bed, the others all got rooms with double beds. And Eliot and I were the only co-ed.

I'm gonna kill Hardison. Slowly. Maybe I can make it look like an accident.

"So, you're tellin' me, you got scurvy?"

Eliot's low voice pulls me from my day dream.

"I almost got scurvy," Hardison explains. "Nanna caught it before it got bad and made me drink like a gallon of orange juice a day. Was not fun. You know what happens when you consume that much fruit? It's not pretty. I'm tellin' you it was like a -"

"Ew Hardison!" I exclaim, throwing a crumpled napkin at him. "TMI, dude. TMI."

"Damnit, Hardison."

"What's scurvy?" Parker asks, mouth full of food.

"It's when you're body doesn't have all the nutrients it needs, specifically vitamin c. You get it from fruits and vegetables, and if you don't get enough of it you get real sick," Eliot explains.

"It's why El and I try to feed them to you and Hardison and much as we can," I add.

"It's not anything to worry about really," Hardison says with a smirk, while waving a french fry around. "It's not a thing. Parents made it up to make kids eat their vegetables."

"Oh, interesting." Parker shrugs and continues to eat.

"No, Park-" Eliot starts, running a hand down his face to rest over his eyes. "Damnit Hardison."

I shake my head, then turn to Nate and Sophie to see if they want to be any help, but they are completely oblivious, having their own conversation. Giving each other bedroom eyes and thinking they are being subtle.

I roll my eyes and sigh.

I look down to my plate. My food is already gone and my drink only has a swallow left.

I grab my cup, down the last of the liquid, then push away from the table.

"Alright. I don't have the patients for this. Hardison, good luck trying to undo this one."

I turn and walk away, when Hardison yells after me.

"Hey! What about your bill?"

"You get to cover it for telling Parker that scurvy isn't real."

I flip him off over my shoulder as I open the door and leave.

The restaurant is only a few minutes walk from the hotel, so I don't have to be out in the heat long, thank goodness.

I walk through the front lobby, waving to the young woman, Gemma, behind the desk, then to the elevator up to my room.

The building is cool enough, AC on throughout, but once I unlock my door , heat floods out.

Damnit. One of us must have forgotten to turn the AC on before we left.

I enter the room, like walking into an oven, across the room to the AC unit.

Opon inspection, I find that no matter the buttons I push, nothing comes from it.

Shit.

I go to the phone on the side table and call down to the front desk, the call answering after a couple rings.

"Front desk, how can I help?"

"Hi, Gemma, I'm in room 302, and the AC unit is not working and it's an oven in here. Is there any body who could take a look at it?"

"Oh, shit. I will call maintenance to check it out, and have a couple fans sent up in the mean time. I'm sorry for it going out."

"That's alright. It not your fault. Thank you for your help."

"Of course. Maintenance should be there in a few minutes."

"Alright, thanks."

I hang up and flop back on the bed.

The air stale and unmoving.

I get up to open the window, standing next to it and enjoying the air. It may be hot outside, but the air moves.

A knock arrives on the door after a few minutes.

I go to the door and open it to reveal an older gentleman with a tool box in hand.

"I hear you are having some AC problems," he says.

"That I am. Please come in." I gesture for him to come in. "Thank you for coming. I hope you can fix it."

"I'll do my best," he says as he begins to examines the unit.

I sit on the bed and watch him take of the front of the unit, exposing the inner workings.

He tinkers and grumbles for a few minutes, before standing and turning to me.

"No good." He says, shaking his head. "One of the lines is broken and we don't have the parts on hand. It's out of commission until I can order the parts."

My heart sinks.

"Are you sure?"

He nods.

"Alright," I sigh. "Thank you for trying."

"You're welcome. Why don't we go ask Gemma if there is a empty room for you."

I nod, then get up and grab my room key and wallet. Then follow him out and head to the lobby.

Once there, he explains to Gemma about the unit, and asks if she could find another room for me, then head of towards the back.

I step up to the front desk, resting my arms on top, as she begins to type.

"Is there anything available?" I ask.

She gives me a sympathetic look, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry," she says. "Everything is full. The earliest I could get a room is tomorrow afternoon."

"We leave tomorrow."

I close my eyes, and run my hand over my face.

"It's ok. You said you had some fans?"

She nods.

"We do. I will have them sent up. They aren't as good as an AC, but it'll keep the air moving."

"Thank you, Gemma."

As I turn to head back up to my room, I see Eliot come in the entrance.

"Hey," he greats. "What going on?"

"I'll explain on the way up." I tell him, then walk towards the elevator.

Heim following behind.

Once in the elevator, I explain what happened.

"Great." He groans as he tosses his head back.

Once we get back to our room, the fans have already been dropped off, so we place them around the room to try to cool it down.

"Alright," I sigh, digging through my suitcase for clothes. "I'm going to shower."

"Why? Just gonna get hot again." His tone dripping in annoyance.

"Yes, but I'll be clean and hot." I snip back.

I grab my clothes and slam the bathroom door behind me.

The water is cool and refreshing. It takes away some of the frustration I had towards Eliot, but I'm still annoyed at him.

Once I'm done I put my pjs on, shorts and a tank, hopefully I'll be cool enough overnight.

I exit the bathroom to find Eliot, sprawled across the bed, right arm propped behind his head as he holds his book in his left.

He's only in his tank top and boxers, and the way he's laying, the hem of his top has ridden up to expose some of his stomach. And his arms are now on display, the fake tattoos Hardison and I placed yesterday are now visible, no longer covered by his button up.

The sight sends a heat through me, not helping in the slightest in the oven of our room.

I walk to my suitcase and shove my dirty clothes in.

"You okay?" He asks.

"I'm fine."

He then mutters something and goes back to reading.

I roll my eyes at him, crab my book and settle on the bed next to him, shoving a spare pillow between us.

We stay that way for a few hours, not talking, but at least it wasn't awkward.

When the words on the page begin to blur together, and read the same paragraph over again, I finally decide to put it away and get some sleep.

I tuck my book mark in, and place it on the nightstand, turning the light off, and shuffle down into the bed.

"Goodnight, Eliot." I say as I get comfortable.

"Night," he grumbles.

He moves a few minutes later, turning off his side lamp and settling in bed.

We lay back to back, like we have the past few nights. The only difference now is that it's like a sauna now.

I lay in the bed, blankets tossed off to the foot of the bed. I can feel Eliot radiating heat.

Rolling over, facing him, trying to find some part of the sheets that might be cool still. And I do, but it's gone in a flash.

I can make out his profile in the dark. He lays on his back, hand over his stomach, breathing shallow, and still as a board.

"You're staring," He mumbles.

"No m'not."

"You are. And to jostle the bed every time you move."

"'M just trying to get comfortable but I'm hot."

"So'm I. But I'm still trying to sleep."

I huff, sitting up on my elbow, leaning over him slightly.

"Easy for you to say. You aren't laying next to a radiator. Do you know how much heat you put off. It's like an oven in here, and you are putting off heat. How do you expect me to be able to sleep when it's this hot. I'm pretty sure I'm gonna get heat exhaustion or -"

He moves so quickly I don't have time to react. He grabs my side in one hand and pushes me back into the bed. His body is pressed into mine as he pins me to the bed. Not so that I can't get away at all, but to make me stop moving for a moment.

"I have slept in worse conditions, and survived. So, you better quit complaining about how hot it it is, before I get you a reason to feel hot."

We lay there, body's pressed together. His eyes glow slightly with the light from the street lamps.

"That a promise?"

***********************************************

I sit at the table of the hotel's dining room table, head resting on my hand trying to wake up.

A hand on my shoulder gains my attention, I open my eyes to see Eliot's hand placing a mug of coffee in front of me.

I smile at him in thanks as he sits next to me.

The first sip is warm and comforting, mixed up perfectly. Of course it was.

"What's that on your neck?" Parker asks, pointing to the mark on my neck.

Her question is like a bucket of ice water dumped over me.

I look to her, bring a hand to my neck. I thought my hair had covered it, but it must've shifted.

"Um, I burned it, on a curling iron," I lie, hoping she'll except it.

"But your hair isn't curled. And Eliot has a similar one."

I look to Eliot, his gaze fixed on Parker, his expression neutral.

My gaze falls from his face to his neck, and sure enough, on his neck hidden by his hair, is a bruise I had left last night.

He finally looks at me, but before either of us can say something, Hardison, Nate, and Sophie join us at the table.

We all exchange groggy 'mornings' before Parker breaks the silents.

"She said she burned her neck with a curling iron," she points at me, then to Eliot. "But he has the same kind of mark, and he doesn't use a curling iron."

My face gets hot. I lean my elbows on the table and bury my face in my hands, trying to hide from the rest of the team.

"Got damn!" Hardison exclaims. "You did the nasty!"

***********************************************

#eliot spencer #eliot spencer x reader #leverage fanfic #leverage

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eisforeidolon · 23 hours ago

Note

//Hellers still going on about “Watching Over Me” being about Cass. Claiming Jensen confirmed it in a meet and greet. It’s funny they never have video proof beyond, “Misha said it”.//

I was at that M&G, well hellers have probably claimed he says this at every M&G, but I was at A M&G where an idiotic heller asked if Jensen had written a song about Castiel. Jensen laughed at the idea. The rest of the people present rolled their eyes so loud you could practically hear it. Heller took that as confirmation and ran. She also took JA avoiding answering because the show was still in progress if some stupid destiel related shit (I can’t rember the exact question anymore, thankfully) was going to happen in the Winchesters. She full on dominated the conversation, heard what she wanted to hear, ignored actual answers and common sense, and ran with it, telling everyone her lies as soon as the M&M&G was over. We also had to sign. NDA's, so she’s an untrustworthy little bitch who broke the rules immediately, aw well as a liar.

Thanks for the report of what happened (at least that time), anon!

The thing is, we know they're delusional liars. We've seen it even when they can be easily fact checked. These fuckwits have tried to lie about what's been said in main panels before, either by 100% making shit up or just trying to sell hilariously stupid misinterpretations and wild fantasized projections of the meaning they want to hear. (DestieI is real? Where is it real?! Totes just Jensen upset people can't see the obvious and telling them to look harder because it's everywhere!!!) These are panels with a large room full of mixed fans where there is almost always someone making a recording. And yet they lie and assert blatantly brainless reinterpretations as fact that obviously don't represent what was actually directly said.

Like, is it a desperation to have the attention from other hellers for the five metaphorical minutes before the videos come out? Do they delude themselves into thinking if they just build enough enthusiasm online for the lies, the actors will totes have to change their opinions because it's popular (since drowning in the heller bubble always makes them ignore the GA and the entire rest of fandom exist)? Do they figure if they get their bullshit out fast enough it will get added to the list of heller "proof" and they just don't care only other gullible hellers will buy it? They do genuinely seem to think if they just come up with a long enough list of batshit nonsense - no matter how blatantly false, specious, and outright absurd it all is to anyone not in the cult - the world will have to validate them!! Uh, no.

So yeah, it only picks up an extra degree of absurdity when they make uncheckable claims about what Jensen said in a supposed-to-be confidential M&G or other relatively private interaction. Like, I wasn't there, so I can't objectively know if your story of what happened in that M&G is true either. But unlike theirs? It actually lines up with every other public, recorded, verifiable reaction Jensen has ever had to the idea of that ship being canon or something he has interest in. The level of self-delusion to carry on as if that doesn't matter is just ...

#destihellers #askboxery #anonymous

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on-wine-dark-seas · 3 days ago

Text

Alright, we are home and ready to YAP.

Phyx, babe, I'm here to tell you that this is some truly exemplary fanfiction. Like, when I say this fic has checked all my boxes [and added a few I didn't know I wanted]??? I have never been held so tightly by the throat in a fanfic. Not like this.

The pacing for this fic is so masterful I need you to teach me how you fucking do it. Not a word or a moment wasted in any chapter, and the way you keep the tension building steadily, snapping and controlling the story and drawing us in, or shutting us out. Ah, I could ramble about this for DAYS.

Let's talk about your characterization of Sukuna. You have achieved this lovely balance of making him menacing, cruel, brutal, and wild [my favorite Sukuna flavors]. But you've also shown us how innately human he actually is. You've spun his tale so well where there are moments where he's everything like the legends say, and where he is nothing like the legends say. He is all and everything and nothing. I think you know how much I love him by now but your characterization is hands-down one of my favorites. Again, masterful work.

The Reader [I don't see myself as her] is also a masterful character. You've stoked the flames of curiosity from the outset where we learn about her in the same way her techinque works: little poisonous details that rot away the veneer to reveal the horrifying truth beneath the silk [ha, apt title]. She's stubborn, she's independent, she's stronger than she could have ever let herself realize [until this chapter], and she is so much like Sukuna that I think that's why he's so drawn to her. She's like him in that she is not a creature meant for any yoke. She will run freely or she will die fighting and snarling.

The two of them together burn like gasoline flames left untended. They want each other so badly it makes them do all manner of hurtful shit to deny their mutual attraction. I am waiting on tenterhooks for the moment they both finally accept the truth of what they are to each other because I know you're going to make it so cathartic.

The scene with the branding was tough. I can see why you needed a break. I can't imagine the headspace you had to shift into to make that scene hit like it did but again: masterful work. I am so ready to see Sukuna crash out over this because I know he's livid.

Also the white-haired demon is there, love that for him. But he needs to move, this is Sukuna country! 🗣️

This was such a brilliant update [and breathtaking cliffhanger] because now I'm fully invested in seeing these two end up together no matter what. I want them to destroy it all together [I'm insane].

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 35: Goodbye, Little Red Flower

Content warning: Violence, gore, blood, dismemberment, Sukuna POV at the end.

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

The Breaking Of The Shell - Hunter As a Horse Doom - Alex Terrible

Chapter 34

The light tap on your bare shoulder almost pulls you from the haze of sleep.

Almost.

But you’re too comfortable to move. Too tired. Caught somewhere between peace and exhaustion with barely any thoughts. You drift, resting on whatever softness you lie on. It feels nice. And smells faintly of a warm, crackling fire and a deeper undertone, like marrow buried in the earth. Dense. Grounding.

Another tap, firmer this time, yet still gentle.

“Psst.”

A voice.

“It’s time to wake up.”

When your eyes drift open, you blink and are greeted by the sight of Sukuna’s messy sheets, a ridiculous mountain of pillows, and your form poured out across his futon, flat on your stomach.

Disoriented, you blink again, pushing yourself up slowly. Turning to sit, you face the room, aching in every muscle, body and energy spent. It feels like you could sleep for ages, especially here, wrapped in the decadence of this space.

A soft clearing of a throat breaks the quiet, and you glance left. Pale morning light filters through the garden doors, illuminating Ren standing beside the raised futon. She cradles a bowl of steaming liquid, her expression furrowed in thought.

“Morning,” she says, her voice polite, her head bowing slightly, but her eyes wander to the nearest wall, avoiding you.

You look down.

Oh.

Right.

You’re completely naked.

Muttering a few choice words, you grab the nearest thing—the massive blue quilt and swamp the fabric tightly around your body. It doesn’t take long for the memories of last night to resurface, and all you wish for is the heavy forgetfulness of sleep.

What do you remember?

Ceramics shattering. Sneaking into the King of Curses’ room in the middle of the night to stab him. All the truths that were finally hatched. Then, the forest battle. Your power. The fire arrow. The shouting. Screaming. Kissing. The sex—gods, the sex. Before, the quiet, whispering, “I should have stolen you sooner.” And finally, the monster letting you go, telling you to depart before sunrise, leaving you here, alone, covered in his…

You look down, cheeks burning with mortification as irritation prickles under your skin at the sticky sensation between your legs. There’s a lot. It’s everywhere.

He has two cocks, after all.

Taking a corner of the quilt, you scrub at your inner thighs, uncaring if you stain his sheets. If anything, you hope it leaves a mess—one small, final reminder that you were here. The act feels petty, but you reserve a corner in your mind that he deserves a whole lot more than this.

Let all his sleeps be ruined by crusty sheets.

Prick.

Peering back at Ren, your eyes flicker to the bowl cradled in her hands, which she seems to be directing toward you. The wafting steam smells of the earth, a grassy edge, maybe something sweet.

“What is that?”

Your prickly tone does little but draw her attention back to you. You level her with a stare. The sting of betrayal still crawls around in your mind, and looking at her directly does nothing to settle it.

“It’s a tea, my La—” Her words falter, lip tucking inward to stop herself.

You tug the quilt tighter, a protective shield.

So, the news has already spread throughout the shrine. This sham of a union is over. Eyebrows calmly arching, you wait for her to recover her voice.

“It’s a preventative,” she says, clearing her throat softly, “against anything... unwanted. Master Sukuna didn’t wish you to leave only to become pregnant.”

Her explanation barely registers before you take the bowl from her hands, careful to avoid brushing her skin—an intentional gesture after last night’s incident. No more shattered ceramics.

“How thoughtful of him,” you mumble, peering into the bowl’s murky contents and inhaling.

Despite the bitterness in your words, you know it’s true. Becoming pregnant would be foolish, and, as Ren said, unwanted. With no home, no clan, and no means of support, bringing a child into this life would be reckless.

“Is this what you and Sayuri would drink?”

You take a sip. Hints of over-brewed root and bark nips at your tongue.

“Not often.” Ren makes a humming sound in her chest. “If ever.” She moves across the room to pluck your ruined yukata that still sits as a rumpled pile on the floor. “Normally, he wouldn’t find completion inside us,” she adds, her voice calm, almost factual. “He would withdraw.”

“Oh.”

You avert your stare to the tea again. Taking a longer sip, then two more, you drain the rest in one long swallow. Wiping your mouth, you add, “I suppose I should feel honoured, right?” You tap the ceramic dish once with a finger before setting it down on the sheets.

Again, the bitterness in your words. They aren’t meant for Ren, but they come nonetheless.

Petty, petty.

She doesn’t respond, and standing at the end of the futon, she hesitates before dropping her chin.

“I don’t mean to be forward, but—” She smooths your discarded garment between her fingers, as if trying to rub out the stains. “You need to leave,” she continues. The new tension winding through her tone has you sitting straighter. “There’s a force advancing toward Master Sukuna’s domain.”

Your brow creases.

“An attack?” Feet finding their way to the floor, you stand with the quilt wrapped around you. “Similar to previous ones?”

Ren shakes her head softly.

“No.” She hands you your yukata, which you take with careful fingers. “Master Sukuna seems more concerned about this. Apparently, it’s much more organized—and from the capital.”

Your pulse makes a dip. Skips a beat or two.

What you had wondered about last night is coming to pass. Heian-kyō is moving to retaliate against Ryomen Sukuna. The course of events likely tracing to what you asked of him nights ago—the destruction of the Kasai clan…

Everyone. Dead.

Those were her words.

You let the quilt fall, and threading your arms through the sleeves of your yukata, you slip inside.

What would they do if they ever laid hands on Sukuna? Unlikely—but does it matter to you anymore?

Do I even care?

Pinching the front panels of the garment closed, you glance around for the sash—your binding from last night—but it’s nowhere to be found.

Before you can ask any further questions, the door slides open.

Uraume steps into the room. Their pink gaze flickers toward you briefly, but it doesn’t remain. Crossing to a chest resting in the corner, their pale hands move to pile several folded garments into their arms.

You stare at them. At the pink strip staining the back of their head.

I trusted you.

Ren shifts beside you, clearing her throat for what feels like the hundredth time.

“I’ll prepare some of your things for departur—”

“I trusted you.” Your voice is aimed at Uraume’s back, but your words are meant for both of them.

The pale-haired subordinate’s hands pause. It falls silent. Then they continue while a pained expression passes over Ren’s face. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Did you all just sit around at the end of the day and laugh at me?” you add, teeth clicking shut. “Recount all the stupid things I must have done?”

With a thump, Uraume presses the chest closed. In the dim light, dust motes swirl, dance, and finally settle. They turn to you, head bowing deeply, taking you by surprise.

“I have nothing to say for myself,” they admit, tone sincere. “And whatever you believe, know this—our actions toward you were genuine.”

“Genuine?” Your laugh comes out humourless. “After lying to me this whole time?"

“Yes.”

They pause, then lift their head.

“But.” Their expression cools, and your gaze hardens. “Your intent was to harm Master Sukuna. My loyalty will always remain with him—just as yours has always belonged elsewhere.”

Loyalty?

You huff, frustration rolling around inside your chest.

“Of course my loyalty was elsewhere. I did this to protect my sister.”

Under Uraume’s white bangs, their eyes exchange a wordless glance with Ren before flitting back to you.

Of course, they also didn’t know this—none of them did. Hidden truths and lies are all that bind anyone here.

“It wasn’t something I chose for myself,” you continue. And yet—what choice did either of them have against the word of the King of Curses? Was there a choice at all?

For a moment, Uraume hesitates, as if there’s more they want to say. But they simply bow their head again.

“Be safe.”

Clutching the stack of garments, they turn, slip gracefully into the corridor and disappear.

You stand there quietly before Ren steps briskly toward the door.

“Please,” she murmurs. “It’s time to go.”

Lifting your chin, you follow her from Sukuna’s chambers, sparing one last glance at the mural—the fading seasons, the red bloom sprouting from the snow—before turning away.

Descending the corridor back to your room feels strange, yet familiar, like retracing steps through a place that no longer belongs to you. When you enter, Ren gives you space. You move quickly, taking only what you need for the journey. Everything else, and anything gifted, remains untouched.

Before changing into a dark, plain kimono and hakama, you wipe your body down as best you can with a piece of cloth, ridding yourself of Sukuna’s touch.

With your leather gloves on, you pause in the doorway. The shattered ceramics from last night have been cleaned, leaving no trace of the realizations they pulled forth. Sliding the door open, you turn left, following the long hallway toward the front entrance. You pass the central hall, passing attendants along the way. They move through the corridors with their heads drawn low, not acknowledging you.

And you wonder—had they known about your gift all along? Perhaps that’s why they kept their distance, treating you like a walking, breathing wound.

Or a sickness.

Pushing the massive front doors open, you step outside. The morning drips with light rain, drizzle clinging to the air as fog blankets the ground in a soupy veil.

Everything is grey—dull, grey, muted, lifeless.

No colour. No warmth.

You exhale.

The clipped tap of footsteps behind you draws your gaze back over your shoulder. Ren stands at the mouth of the corridor, her face unreadable.

“Take care of yourself,” you say with a nod. She bows, head lowered, never lifting it.

Forcing a tight smile, you descend the wet stone steps of the shrine. The sodden ground gives beneath your feet as you make your way to the stables. Inside, your gaze sweeps over the stalls, tracing the familiar shapes of Sukuna’s horses, one after another, all accounted for.

So, he’s still here.

You pull open the door where Ayana waits, but a dull thud draws your attention downward.

There in the hay, your sheathed tantō lies, snug in its scabbard.

You stare at it for a heartbeat. Sukuna must have retrieved it, intending for you to take it. Your mouth twitches faintly, but instead of picking it up, you step over it, leaving the weapon where it lies.

A gift given, and one you’ll leave behind.

Ayana greets you with a gentle nudge, her warm breath coasting over your cheek. Huffing softly, the corner of your mouth attempts to rise.

“Ready to go, girl?” you murmur, circling her with a reassuring pat. Her dappled coat is smooth, brushed to a shine, clear that someone has taken care of her.

“We’ll ride toward the capital. Yuna will likely be waiting there for us,” you say, running a soothing hand along her neck before reaching for the bridle slung over the nearest beam. You begin fitting it over her head, your gloved hands steady as you secure the tack.

“And when this is all over, I’ll find you a place with real pastures. Somewhere with soft grass and open space, plenty of room to run wild.” You adjust the straps. “I’ll bring you something good too. Maybe sweet chestnuts. Or apples from some market we find along the way, the kind that smells like warm honey.”

She whinnies, and you smile at her.

“Freedom. Choices.” You give her a final pat. “Sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

The creak of the stable door opening makes your head tilt slightly. You pause. The heavy footfalls arrive like an approaching storm, the rustle of fabric a whisper, sending searing heat down your spine.

Sukuna’s footsteps might as well be stomping around inside your chest—all loud and disquieting.

But instead of hiding, you keep your focus on Ayana, and don’t look up. You continue preparing her, hands moving with careful precision.

Still, you can’t ignore the faint trace of his energy brushing against you, prodding—almost as if in greeting.

You force yourself to ignore it. To breathe.

You can block it out, can’t you? If nothing else, you’ve learned this much—you are far stronger than you ever realized.

Inhale. Exhale. Deep and low into your belly.

Slowly, the oppressive hum of him dulls. Quieted, but not gone. Never entirely gone.

A stall door groans open. One of his many horses lets out a low chuff, and then his voice—deep and quiet—fills the space, murmuring soft, soothing words to the beast. The familiar clink of buckles follows, the slow pull of leather straps.

He’s leaving now too.

You quicken your pace, finishing swiftly to avoid a final confrontation.

With the saddle fastened, you mount Ayana and steer her toward the main doors, keeping your focus locked ahead—nowhere else. A firm nudge to her side, and you burst from the stables, refusing to acknowledge the flash of red eyes snapping toward you as you race past.

No lasting glances. No words. No goodbye.

Nothing.

You’re already gone.

Erupting down the dirt-packed road with the wind tearing through your hair, the rain picks up. But you don’t mind. This is a first taste of freedom.

Pressed between the towering, muted trees at your sides and the endless curve of the grey sky above, Ayana surges forward, her hooves slicing through shallow puddles.

It all blurs. You don’t look back.

But it doesn’t take long before your mare’s gallop is drowned out by the thundering of hooves from behind.

Before you can turn, Sukuna suddenly appears beside you, his massive warhorse cutting across your path. Ayana rears back with a startled cry, and you grip the reins tightly to steady her, heart pounding as he pulls alongside.

Slowly, he comes into focus.

You haven’t met his gaze since last night, seen his face since that vulnerable moment when he was buried deep inside you, when he turned you away.

Now, eyes finding yours, they move across you, and something fractures behind the scarlet hue of his stare.

He looks so different from only hours ago. Before, he had been lost in pleasure—or whatever other tumultuous emotions had circled in his mind.

Now, he looks ready for war.

A dark charcoal kimono and hakama stretches over his broad frame, the long spear strapped to his back a promise of violence. He appears as a shadow against the pale morning, cut from a deep wound, a stain.

And yet—

Tiny droplets of rain cling to him, softening the edges. Beads dot his lashes, dampen his pink hair to a deeper shade of blush. His eyes blink against the drizzle, and for a moment, the storm touches him too.

Hands loosening on Ayana’s reins, you part your lips to ask why he’s come—only for him to reach forward and crush something against your sternum.

Your chin tilts downward. Pressed against your chest is a thick stack of parchment, its edges curling from the damp. Reaching for them, your gloved fingers brush against the soaked paper, and you avoid his hand. Then your gaze drops lower, catching on the seal pressed into the front. A snake, coiled in red.

They are letters.

Your letters.

The ones he took.

Your eyes snap back to the King of Curses. He looms over you, his upper left arm still closing the space, palm flat against you. He looks out of place, oddly quiet, like he wants to speak but can’t quite force the words free.

Your grip on the reins shifts, leather creaking—the only sound above the steady patter of rain and the breath of the two horses.

Three heartbeats pass before he finally speaks.

“Be careful,” he mumbles lowly, pressing his hand more firmly as though unwilling to let go. His brow furrows. The way he looks at you—it’s there. If only he could unburden himself, let the words crawl free, you might listen.

You wait.

But his mouth and throat are fortified, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that aches.

“Stay off the main road. Don’t ride east, it’s dangero—”

“Goodbye, my Lord.”

Composed. Formal. Chin lifted.

Your interruption makes him hesitate, lip twitching—before, at last, he releases you. Slowly. Reluctantly. And it’s that reluctance on his face that makes him look like a man who’s taken another blade to the neck and doesn’t understand how.

What does he expect?

Again, you’ve given him pieces of yourself. And again, he has taken.

The thought twists.

Ruiner.

Tucking the letters deep into the front panels of your kimono, you turn away. Without a backward glance, you guide Ayana forward, and the space separating you stretches wide—like the unseen divide that always existed between your two rooms at the shrine.

Ayana surges ahead. The world blurs into gold and brown. But you only get so far before something inside tugs—an invisible thread pulling too tight.

You risk a glance back.

There’s a final flash of red clinging to you before vanishing, swallowed by the fog and rain, and the four-armed demon dissolves into the grey.

* * * * *

You don’t ride for long before finding a place beyond the main trail to dismount. Under the shelter of a sprawling oak, your mare slows, and you pull the letters from the safety of your kimono.

Settling onto a cold slab of rock, its damp surface seeping through your layers, you decide it’s time to read through them—if only to chase away the feeling clawing at your chest.

An odd ache of sorts.

Glancing down at the parchment in your hands—there are many. Some remain folded and untouched. While others have been folded and refolded, their creases worn soft, as if read over again and again.

Why Sukuna felt the need to keep them hidden, you’re unsure.

Taking the first from the top, you ease it open and begin.

Dearest Sister, I hope this letter comes to you well. Court life has been a marvel—every day feels like stepping into the poetry of a dream. The noblewomen are endlessly graceful, and I’ve started lessons to refine my own gestures and speech. Did you know there’s even a proper way to arrange robes for an audience? It’s all so fascinating, and I feel I’m learning so much. Yuna

Your brow drops. You set it aside and retrieve another.

Dearest Sister, I’ve had the opportunity to meet several suitors from other clans, Zen’in, Kamo. I’m still waiting to meet a man from the Sugawara clan, said to have silver hair and striking blue eyes like the open sea. The others carry themselves differently, some with charm, others with an air of superiority. I wonder what they saw when they looked at me. Yuna

You drag your eyes away from the elegant script, rifling through the stack before selecting another.

Dearest Sister, The dango here is unlike anything I’ve ever tasted. Soft, sweet, with just the slightest hint of char that, regrettably, left me with a terrible stomach ache. I lack restraint, but how could I when they were served on—

Enough.

Your fingers curl into the parchment.

What kind of letters are these? Not a single word asks about your well-being or safety. Not a single inquiry into how you are being treated at the shrine. She speaks only of herself, every sentence orbiting around her.

Jaw clenching, you shuffle through the rest, searching for a kind word—anything that isn’t self-indulgent. But there’s nothing. It’s always about Yuna. It always has been.

She is the protected.

You, the protector.

She, the gem.

You, the trinket, shoved into a corner.

Her, lovely.

You, anything but.

You’ve convinced yourself time and time again that your needs were never worthy, that you were deemed undeserving. Yet despite her volatile upbringing—one so similar to your own—she could still show you some hint of compassion, some fragment of concern. Couldn’t she?

You keep searching, keep looking, and still, nothing.

A crack runs through your heart, a fractious crumbling. Ridiculous to feel this way. All this from a few damn letters. But you swallow and flip through the papers once more, unfolding and refolding.

There has to be something.

Your fingers halt on a small, unmarked letter, the parchment lightly stained, its surface rough, absent of any emblem. Discreet. You unfold it slowly, revealing the familiar ink strokes of your father’s handwriting.

For a moment, you simply blink, looking down at the ramblings of a dead man—a man you killed—staring back at you.

To my youngest daughter. I will make this brief. If I am no longer here, I have one simple and final request to offer you. Do not trust the next head of the Kasai clan. Trust no one. Trust yourself. Trust your memories, but know that the mind is a terrible thing when touched. While you remain in the south, under the creature’s eyes, remember your mother. Remember her. Remember. And for all the harm I have caused you, I can only hope that one day you will find it in your heart to forgive me. Your Father. Kasai Takuma.

You stare at it, chest tight.

Forgive him?

The thought alone feels impossible. A delusion he has no right to ask for. A fucking fool’s errand.

Your eyes sting.

Crumpling the letter, you toss it aside, letting it sink into the wet grass.

The thought burns at you, picking. You push to your feet, pace in agitation, eyes fixed on the wadded paper while the damp earth begins to swallow it whole.

“The mind is a terrible thing when touched…” you murmur, watching the letter start to cave in on itself. “What the hell does that even mean?”

The ink starts to bleed.

Your mouth twitches.

With an exhale, you step closer, grabbing it before moisture can fully soak through, then stare at it again, reading it over and over until his nonsense is memorized.

Because something about this feels wrong. Bone-deep, wrong.

The Kasai clan was destroyed days ago. There is no clan head. No power. No influence.

Once, I think I cared for you, just like your mother had, but I forgot what that felt like.

Your father’s words wander back, unbidden. The same words he spoke before you stabbed him in the throat.

“You’re not making any sense, you bastard.”

Sighing, you let your head fall back, neck tilting as your eyes drift skyward. The rain has passed, but the clouds linger heavy, dragging their swollen bellies close to the earth.

Your heartbeat slows.

Remember.

Remember…

Remember what?

Closing your eyes, you take a long, deep breath. Calm.

Remember.

Remember…

I remember a breeze. A whisper in the dark.

“How are you feeling?”

Your gaze snaps open as a choking scent invades your nose.

A smell.

That smell.

Smoke.

Leather gloves creaking, you curl your hands into fists as your eyes lift to the east, catching sight of thick, dark plumes rising, streaking the sky in an ugly stain of ash.

Something’s burning.

* * * * *

Elsewhere, in a village to the east, some time later…

Screaming. Yelling. Crying.

Flames lick at the grey sky. Huts on fire. Villagers running in every direction.

The King of Curses knows no mercy. Even surrounded by ten, twenty, fifty men, he fights. And when Sukuna fights, he fights viciously. Violently. He fights alone.

From across the burning, crumbling village, five assailants throw themselves toward him all at once. With Hiten out, the demon’s hold on his cursed energy is loose, and he responds in kind.

The first man arrives, swinging his katana with misplaced triumph, aiming for his weapon hand. The sharp edge of the blade descends with a high-pitched wail, but before he can take another step, his blood and guts are already smeared across the ground.

As easy as splitting an overripe peach.

Sukuna grins at the mess and laughs, then lifts his chin from the warm, wet, glistening heap.

Three more follow.

He’s ready. Muscles in his chest swollen, the upper half of his kimono slung at his waist, four arms draped at his side, he steps forward to meet them.

For a heartbeat, as he moves, the energy of a lesser sorcerer rolls up against him in annoying fits and spurts. It’s distracting, a bit of a nuisance. Lip peeling back, he ignores it, his focus returning to the rushing of feet toward him, the advancing trio moving with well-trained precision.

But training means nothing in the presence of a many-faced monster.

Garments snapping in the heat of battle, Sukuna takes in the insignias woven into their attire—men from Heian-kyō and the Zen’in clan. The latter, he knows, is behind the constant attacks on his domain. For the past month, they’ve pushed his patience, having sat in league with the Kasai clan. Were.

There’s a bright red flash.

A spasm of energy hurtles toward him.

Dodging, he slides into a wide stance, sandals gripping the damp soil. His upper right arm lifts, two fingers poised. Scarlet eyes burn.

Flick!

A sharp hiss rips through the air.

The three men stagger to a stop, shudder, then split apart—torsos sliding cleanly from their hips, their bodies fall in halves to the ground with meaty thuds.

Veins, cartilage, bone, tissue, muscle.

Sometimes, Sukuna enjoys dragging out a fight—testing his opponent’s limits, squeezing out every last drop of potential.

Not today.

Today, he fights to kill. Today, he wants to see eyes wrench wide, watch insides spill pink, feel flesh tear under his hands. The slick heat of blood—he needs it. Needs to drown out the colour of snowmelt, the vision slipping long out of reach.

Pitiful.

He lets himself feel fucking pathetic for one second before turning to the last man in his vicinity.

There are still more to kill.

Lots more.

“Come on!” His canines flash.

He feels insane. Drunk. Blood drunk. Bloodlust.

He wants more. So much more.

The final man raises his hands, fingers aligning into some kind of hand sign.

“Thrilling.” Sukuna’s demonic grin pulls wider.

With a smooth motion, his lower left arm draws back, halberd poised.

He releases it.

The incantation barely leaves the sorcerer’s throat before the blades sink snugly into his windpipe. The man’s cries mutate into animalistic sounds as he crumples to his knees, then collapses onto his back, eyes fixed on the ashen sky.

“How boring,” the King of Curses mutters, stepping closer to the body.

Planting his foot on the lifeless chest, he leans into it, dislodging Hiten from the ruined neck with a slick, hideous squelch.

“Such a waste to use this here,” he scowls, turning the bloodied weapon in his hand with a reverent eye. “It deserves far worthier opponents…” Lowering the haft to the dirt, he lets the blade rest upright. “Perhaps another time.”

He lifts his attention from the spear, falling on the remains of the sprawling village, surveying where the chaos takes shape.

The pests of the Zen’in clan and men from the capital swarm the dirt paths between ruined huts, fire stinging the air as they rip the place apart. He catches sight of others lingering at the edges, biding their time, waiting, but he’s not sure for what.

Four eyes sweeping to the fields beyond, he sees they’re smothered in ash, the homes already burned to the ground before his arrival. This village—once the heart of this domain northeast of the shrine—is as good as lost. Survivors, mostly women and children, pick their way through the wreckage or scatter into the surrounding wilds. Few converge in the distance, forming a group as they attempt to flee toward the tree line—only to be cut down or dragged away.

A month ago, the situation wasn’t this dire. Then again, a month ago, everything was very different. But this assault feels… calculated.

As he moves toward another cluster of assailants, that same flicker of lesser energy brushes against him, making his brow crease in irritation. Again, he ignores it, too busy weighing his next opponent.

Out of nowhere, two horses rush past, their riders racing in the direction he came from.

South.

A warning rings out inside his mind, and he doesn’t hesitate to move.

Abandoning the village, Sukuna tracks them, his massive form cutting through the terrain. With a flick of his wrist, the first rider is ripped from the saddle, slamming against the earth.

The second man continues, veering deeper into the brush.

He doesn’t make it far.

With a single swipe, Sukuna cleaves through flesh and bone, severing the rider’s leg mid-gallop. The limb hits the ground first. The man follows, crashing into the undergrowth. His horse bolts, vanishing into the trees, leaving its master mutilated in the dirt, groaning in agony.

Through the thicket, the King of Curses moves slowly. Blood pools beneath the mangled figure, staining the rain-softened earth dark. Sukuna reaches him and kneels, fingers curling into the man's battle attire—a layered mix of padded silk and hemp, suited for a warrior of Heian-kyō’s polished courts yet built for combat. Hiten shifts at his side as Sukuna hauls the man upright, their faces close enough that he can taste the sour tang of his breath, can see the fear stretching lines in his features.

“Why are you here?” Sukuna’s voice is a bored, guttural drone.

What he said must have been funny, because his trembling prey smiles at him, baring a row of gummy teeth.

Oh.

Sukuna chuckles.

How sweet.

Canting his head like an animal, the monster’s lower right hand finds its way to the dismembered leg. His fingers crawl deep into the raw, bleeding cavity until the man’s mouth opens in a scream.

“I’ll ask again,” he drawls, pinching an artery between firm fingers. “Why are you here?”

“To collect!” the warrior croaks in pain, blood bubbling onto his chin, some managing to spill onto the mossy ground.

Sukuna’s grip loosens—slightly.

“To collect what?”

Sweat slithers down the man’s brow to settle in the hollow of his cheek.

“You,” he wheezes, then the grin from before returns, overtaking his shuddering expression. “And to take that whore of a wife off your hands.”

Sukuna’s face turns solid. Emotionless. He says nothing. Even when he imagines tearing the man’s jaw free from its roots, leaving him to choke on his own bile and blood.

“You are sentenced to death for the crimes against the Kasai clan,” he continues, glee painting his words even as his skin pales like a corpse. “Your wife stands accused of conspiracy and treason for instigating a coup.”

Sukuna’s jaw sets. He removes his fingers from inside the bloody stump.

“But, she’s wanted alive.” The man pauses. “There are far greater plans for her.”

The monster’s expression darkens.

“And who said she had anything to do with it?” His teeth are bared despite himself.

Patience.

“A witness,” the warrior sneers. “Someone of higher influence than both of you.”

“Fuck your so-called witness. It means nothing to me,” Sukuna hisses, yanking the man forward until their noses nearly touch. “The Kasai clan is gone. I took them apart.”

“No.” The man wheezes out a laugh, then licks his bloodied bottom lip. “Not all of them.”

The King of Curses already knows this. And he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about the accusations, the sentence placed upon him. Let them call him a criminal, a demon, a cannibal, disgraced, wretched—he’s heard it all before. But you? That’s… a different creature entirely.

His fingers flex around the warrior’s clothing, crumpling it further in his grip.

“Who?”

The man’s grin spreads grotesquely wide, every tooth on display.

“The new head of the Kasai clan.” He starts to laugh, his head lolling back in wild abandon.

Only then does Sukuna notice the eyes, the pupils—blown wide, unnaturally so.

“And she’s magnificent.” She. “You’ll see. You’ll see when—”

With a harsh twist, the man’s face is wrenched sideways. His laughter cuts off. Bones splinter. Flesh stretches. Pulls. Tears.

Sukuna doesn’t stop.

He rips the jaw clean from the warrior’s skull. Blood sprays across him in a fine mist. Holding the chunky mass of bone and tissue in his hand, he turns it slowly between his fingers as though admiring a beautiful flower. Below him, his victim collapses to the ground, his hands flying up to claw at the gaping red hole where his mouth once was. But there’s nothing, and his screams are reduced to wet, gurgling sounds as his body twitches in pain.

“Magnificent, was it?” Rising to his full height, Sukuna drops the shattered jaw. “Let’s see how magnificent Yuna Kasai is when I’m done with her.”

Without sparing another look, he turns, leaving the man to suffer, and saunters back toward the village.

As he walks, he collects everything, thinks about the manipulative little bitch who has finally revealed her hand—turning against you, usurping what remains of the Kasai clan, setting everything into motion.

Like a slow-working poison. And by the time you realize what she’s done, it will be too late.

Once your eyes have opened, it will destroy you.

And after all this, he let you go—knowing full well you were no longer safe.

Safe.

He scrubs a hand across his face, then runs it through his hair, fingers dragging through clotted blood and sweat. With another hand, he grips Hiten, shifting its weight as he slides the weapon’s haft into his obi, the blade rising over his shoulder, still within reach.

Walking out of the tree line, the village comes into view, and that same pressure as before pushes against his senses—a slow, drugging pulse in his veins. Drugging in the way that it’s familiar...

Sukuna slows, then stops, cocks his head to the side, all his senses straining.

That lesser energy he’s been feeling. Not lesser, just untamed energy. It reaches across him like a stranger but still familiar—known, but not entirely. The face of someone he once knew but never fully understood, even if he wished he had.

But that’s impossible.

Because it’s yours.

Your cursed energy. Here.

You are here.

Why the hell are you here? You can’t be. You were far from this place. He had told you not to ride east. So why does it feel like he’s breathing you in again? Hadn’t he finally rid himself of your presence?

And yet.

Spurts of it tell him something else.

You are here. And you are… fighting.

His four eyes roll across the surroundings, searching. There’s a wisp of it. He feels it. Then, he moves.

Carving his way through any assailant even as they lunge at him, he slips past every strike, every arc of steel, and every flicker of energy that flares to life.

Delving back deeper into the village, fire cracks. The wind shifts. Smoke spills down his throat, and the warm scent of death thickens, layered with fouler scents.

Decay.

His gaze narrows.

He moves faster.

The ground slopes under his feet. A natural dip in the land, where runoff pools from the rain. Down past charred remains of a market stall, he steps over a corpse.

More signs.

Footprints trailing through the dirt, the grass at their edges reduced to black husks. Ash curling over withered reeds. It only goes so far before the rot stops.

Your work.

He lifts his head.

The village stretches forward, its wreckage bisected by a narrow road snaking through the center.

More corpses litter the ground. Not just dead—ruined.

Darkness eats at the edges of their skin, flesh slack and mottled, collapsed inward. Their chests yawn open, ribs gaping, organs spilled like spoiled fruit.

So this is the full extent of your power—all from a single touch.

He pauses, taking it in—the tattered scraps of the dead’s clothing, the insignias barely visible through falling soot and ash.

Heian-kyō and Zen’in.

Sukuna steps over the bodies. Another corpse shudders in its final moments, a rattling hiss as bones slump into a heap of innards.

Fresh.

You were here moments ago.

He breathes it in, takes it in, the reeking taste of sick life on his tongue.

You’re messy. Inefficient. Brutal. Room for error.

His lip curls.

Reckless woman.

“Where the fuck are you?” he growls, stepping over another pile of split torsos and soured meat. But there it is—your pulse, steady through this slaughter.

Skirting a half-collapsed hut, he follows its pull.

Then, a desperate cry cracks the air.

He stops.

Goes still.

Listens.

His ears catch the sting of metal, the shuffle of hurried feet, and a crowd of voices.

But it’s you.

He knows this.

Through the shambles, down shallow alleys, past collapsed walls where fire has eaten at wood and thatch—he moves.

The pulse of your cursed energy bleeds stronger.

The noise ahead swells.

Laughter.

Jeering voices. Too loud.

He rounds the last ruin and steps into an open stretch of the village square.

In the distance, a cluster of men stands in a tight mass all shouting and revelling. Teeth flashing, voices raised as though they’ve just brought down something great.

As though they’ve won.

He moves closer.

The ravenous crowd parts like a vein split open, but there’s no beast lying at their feet.

There’s only you.

The Zen’in clan and men from the capital have you.

Their hands claw at you—pulling, dragging, yanking—before shoving you face-first into the slick mud. Your arms are wrenched behind your back, leather gloves missing, exposing discoloured fingers and hands.

Beside you, one man yanks Ayana’s reins, his knuckles tight around the leather. The mare screams, bucking wildly, panic twitching through every strained muscle. Kicking up dirt, she fights to break free.

But it isn’t enough.

She is losing.

And so are you.

Thrashing, you fight like a wild creature ripped straight from the forest, meant to be bound and butchered.

And you don’t stop. Not even when a man straddles your back, his knees digging into you as he shoves a dirtied strip of cloth between your teeth, wrapping it tight around your head, forcing your cries to collapse into muffled rage. Then he adjusts his grip and pulls. Your spine wrenches into a painful bow, body buckling under heavy weight.

You scream.

And—

Livid. Fucking. Fury.

Clarity comes to a sharpened point.

Jaw clenched, it's incredible how the violence hits Sukuna all at once—so forceful he's certain his teeth crack down to the marrow.

But that isn’t the worst of it.

Another man steps around your struggling form, gripping a branding iron. Its tip glows—a hot, furious thing. Your right arm is wrenched back, palm up, pinned to the ground.

That’s when he understands this condemnation.

裏切り

Traitor. Betrayer.

They’re going to brand you.

You must feel the heat licking at your skin because he sees your eyes go wild with terror. Sees the moment the screams rip harder from your throat, gag soaking with it.

This sight before him.

The sound of you struggling, fighting, handled like prey—after everything—this is all it takes.

He understands it instantly, viscerally, and an ugliness crawls within him, a weapon unsheathed. That same feeling, the one that gripped him last night slides over his being, the one he felt before he followed you into the forest. That repetition of tiny words all to form a much grander thing.

His.

Always.

But he doesn’t name it. Doesn’t think it. Doesn’t breathe it back into existence.

You were never truly his to begin with.

Sukuna takes a step.

Something must alert you to his presence, because your gaze cuts through the crowd and finds him. And you are furious. Eyes screaming into him, eyes screaming at him. And with that look, the first threads of his restraint toward you fall apart.

The King of Curses takes another patient step.

He doesn’t need to run.

Time bends for him.

And everyone here will be dead in a heartbeat.

If only he knew of the quiet blade being drawn behind him.

#fic rec #muse recs #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #呪術廻戦 #jjk fanfic #両面宿儺 #ch: ryōmen sukuna #this chapter had me grinding my teeth #and my heart was racing #i read it while i was at a gig #but i reread it today so i could leave a proper review #please read this fic if you want some of that GOOD slow burn #and the angst might actually break you be warned

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