#are we clutching at straws here

[killiansprincss]

Ruhn calling Lidia the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Feyre calling Rhys the most beautiful man she’s ever seen.

THE PARALLELS HAVE TO MEAN SOMETHING

[queen-vessaraia-ashlynne]

If everyone lived to serve others, then who would be served? For you cannot be both the servant and the served.

[bi-writes]

can we have like a pov of like what MOB would do if something did happen to simon..? luv you!

mail-order bride

your tea is cold when you pick it up to drink it. it burns you, how cold it is, and you cough a little as you set it down, grimacing as you wipe your lips.

maybe it's just one of those days. the rain is hitting a little too hard against the window. the cats have been restless. the dark one shredded your yoga mat by clawing at it under a doorway, and the orange tabby managed to knock over all of simon's plants from the windowsill (which you frantically put back inside their little pots--would plant murder be his last straw?). you left a red shirt in when you washed the whites (you apologized to all of simon's white tees), and when you noticed holes in your favorite sweats in a pattern that matched a cat's claws, you called it a day and decided to make tea (another fail).

you rub your pounding head, taking a deep breath, but you aren't given long to count down from five when your phone begins to ring.

you pick it up, not recognizing the number, but you put it to your ear as you get up to boil more water.

"hello?"

a throat clears on the other end. "do i have mrs. riley 'ere?"

you frown, leaning your hip against the kitchen counter as you turn a burner on and put the kettle over it.

"uhm...yeah. this is she," you say finally. you look at the clock; it's late, much too late. "who is this?"

"this is john. ah...captain john price, ma'am."

you clench your jaw, closing your eyes. "um...i'm sorry, i...what can i do for you? simon's not--"

"we had to call for medevac," john says lowly. "ahh...should be headin' into surgery soon. i--"

"wait--what?" you cough a little, shutting the stove off, and you're scrambling as you make your way to the bedroom. he's talking again, you realize, but you can't hear what he's saying. your eyes are moving around the room, and you frantically start to pull drawers open, grabbing a sweater, jeans, actual clothes to put on. you shed your pajamas, hopping as you slide your jeans on, and he's still talking, but you still hear nothing.

you run into the dresser, the furniture rattling, and you let the phone go, realizing you can't see because there's tears blurring your vision. you wipe them away, looking around for your purse, and when you realize what this is, an emergency--right?--you head for the bookcase in simon's study.

you toss a few books down onto the floor, your hands shaking as your fingers curl around the spine of a leather bible. you set the book down on simon's desk, flipping through the pages before you find your prized paper nestled between the pages of the book of john.

you head back to the bedroom, picking up the phone again, and you shakily dial the number that's on the back of the card. you take a seat on the bed (because where would you go anyways?), and you close your eyes as you wait for someone to pick up.

it rings for too long. you gasp a little, clutching the phone tight, and you beg for someone to pick up, please, please, please--

"'ello?"

"johnny--" you hiccup, standing up. "johnny, he...he told me--"

"wha--who--" on the other end, johnny shouts at someone to get a move on, "--bleedin' christ, who is this?"

"it's me," you whisper. "i'm...simon's--"

"ach...fuckin' hell..." there's a long, deep sigh on the other end. "oi, lass, listen, he's alright--"

"he's...b-but someone said surgery."

"right, i..." he sighs again, and you hear a door shut on the other end. "ye sit tight, luv. i'll come get ye, okay?"

you sniffle, wiping your face, "just tell me he's gonna be okay. tell me i'm worrying for nothing."

johnny chuckles a bit, and the sound soothes you just enough. "gonna be alright. lad's fuckin' dramatic, i'll tell ye tha', big brick fuckin' stepped in front of--"

"okay, johnny, please don't tell me how simon almost killed himself and get your ass over here, okay?" you snap, and johnny halts his laughing.

"right, yeah, forgive me." you hear the rattle of keys. "'m coming."

"mrs. riley?"

your head lifts up. you blink the sleep out of your eyes, rubbing them gently, and there's a petite woman in scrubs smiling at you with her mask hanging around her neck. you have two sergeants at either side of you, captain price settled leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. you have a blanket around your shoulders, and when you slip it off, johnny takes it from you gently.

"you can see him now."

you get to your feet, and when you pass simon's captain, he tips his hat at you respectfully. you hurry and follow the doctor down the hall, and when you see simon's name scribbled on a makeshift sigh on the wall, you eagerly pick up the pace until the door is opened for you.

he looks peaceful laying there. the monitors beep quietly around him, little wires and tubes falling around him, and you let out a breath when you see him blink those dark eyes awake blearily.

"tha' an angel?"

you start to cry. "you're such an asshole."

you come close to the side of the bed, taking his outstretched hand, and you clutch his big hand to your chest. you curl his hand into a fist, pressing your face against the back of his hand, kissing his knuckles there gently. he uncurls his fingers and wipes at your tears gently, shaking his head.

"gave ya a right scare, didn't i?"

"yes, you dickhead," you sniffle, and simon chuckles lowly, wincing a little as he clutches his lower stomach. you use your foot to bring the chair behind you closer, taking a seat in it as you look up at him. he turns his head to face you, giving you a pained smile, and you let out the breath you've been holding since johnny came to get you. "what's the matter with you, simon?"

"shit happens."

you try not to roll your eyes, but the anger is not lost on simon. he squeezes your hand gently, his eyes flicking up to the clock, and he grimaces when he realizes it's nearly six in the morning. you must have been here all night, waiting for him.

"is this how it's gonna be?" you ask in a whisper. when he meets your eyes again, it's more difficult this time. what you're asking isn't predictable. it isn't a straight answer. and if he gives you anything that isn't the truth, it feels like a lie, and he can't do that to you. "w-waking up in the middle of the night? hoping that the call isn't...that...hoping that--"

"not that simple," simon interrupts gently.

"well, make it simple, simon," you say firmly. even through your tears, your voice doesn't shake this time. "make it very simple for me, then."

simon purses his lips, and for the first time since you've met your husband, he hesitates. he doesn't have an answer, at least a good one.

"don't wanna lie to ya, swee'eart," simon murmurs, and you stare right back at him.

"then don't."

he sucks on his teeth, looking away, and you tug on his hand, pulling his eyes back to you.

"look at me, simon," you say, and he looks sad. he's going to tell you something that you won't want to hear. he's going to tell you something that's been the truth since he enlisted, a reality that never bothered him until he realized he had a responsibility to keep a roof over your head. there's someone waiting inside of his house. there's a place that's waiting for him on one side of the bed he shares with you. there's someone else's shoes always next to his, and someone else's name that will always be beside his own.

family.

he has a family.

"i'll try and keep ya outta here," is all simon murmurs. you smile at that. it's a promise, but he won't lie to you. always honest, your husband. he tells you things as they are. he doesn't pretend. everything with simon is the truth as he presents it, and it's eerily comforting, even if the truth isn't one that you like.

"i love you, simon," you whisper, and when you touch his face finally, the sting of the gold of your wedding is a welcome distraction.

he vows to make this the last time you see him this way. nothing is worth seeing that face of yours like this--tired, disheveled, the angry crease in your brow. you're not meant for these things. for the waiting, the crying, the worry, it's not a life he meant to give you.

for a moment, he wonders if you'd ever ask him.

will you hang it up for me? will you leave for me?

the most terrifying part, he realizes, is that he isn't sure of what his answer would be. and he isn't sure of what you would do if he told you no.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron

(Prologue and Chapter 1)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

⯎series masterlist⯎

Prologue

Before gold, before grams, before the gun, there was you. Back when there weren’t crosses to steal, lines to snort, cops to run from, there was you. Long summer nights on the Druthers, your mom blowing up your phone ‘cause you missed curfew again. Skipping class and riding to the beach on the back of his bike. All the way back to grade school, playing tag and pretending you were pirates. Then middle school, that kiss under the lifeguard tower, a first for both of you. In high school, the night you got back from the “character-building summer camp” you had been shipped off to and you shared your other first. When you were first together, it didn’t even hurt, but just felt like fucking finally. 

He remembers it all, taking all of his strength to keep it stuffed under the surface. The coke, the violence, the drama he creates in his wake cover you up nicely, until those nights when he’s dead asleep and there you are again, leaving. When he wakes, it all comes back to him. How he sat on the curb and watched you go, bloody and hurt from the night that was your final straw. How he showed up on your doorstep the next day, like he was five-years-old again asking if you could come outside and play. How your mother told him you were gone and wouldn’t tell him where you went.

“Honey,” she said with something like pity in her voice, “Promise me, you’ll let her go, let her be happy.”

A promise he kept, until the day you rolled back into town with no warning. Your timing could not have been worse. After the summer from hell, the summer that made him a killer, he finally felt like he was in control. It wasn’t until he saw you, the only person in the world that ever really knew him, that he realized he had no idea who he was. 

Chapter One

You clutched your phone tight, reading and rereading the message. One you used to get nearly every night but hadn’t seen in two long years.

party at cameron’s tonite !!

It was a group text, sent by the girl from your high school you bumped into in the grocery store earlier that day. You had been back on the island for all of an hour before inevitably seeing someone you knew. You tried to duck quickly into the cereal aisle, but she caught your eye before you could disappear, an action you were infamous for.

“Omg, we need to hang out soon!” She had said, before handing you her phone to put your new number in.

You smiled your fakest smile and said, “it’s a must!” You didn’t think either of you really meant it, but apparently she had.

There were eleven or twelve other numbers in the group text, none you had saved, but you assumed they were likely other people from your high school. She probably just added anyone in her contacts she could think of, not even stopping to realize she was inviting the Kook prince’s former princess to his party. Your relationship had been the stuff of legend on this island. Everyone had an opinion, you were practically a celebrity couple, and it was the biggest news on the island for months when you left, suddenly disappearing overnight. Some real shit must’ve gone down around here since then to make it such old news that this girl didn’t even think about it when adding you to this text.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you couldn’t believe it when you felt yourself typing out i’ll be there :) 

You wore your hair down, the way you always used to have it in high school. After you left, you had cut it short, wanting to shed away as much of your old life as you could, but in the last few months you’d started to let it grow back. Now it flowed down to the middle of your back, tickling the skin of your shoulders where the thin spaghetti straps of the little dress you had on left them exposed. You let the front pieces fall around your face, a sort of curtain to keep an extra layer between you and the other partygoers.

You could not believe you were here. For real this time, not in a dream as you had been every night for two years, but really here. 

As you walked down the gravel path, it all came rushing back. The smell of Rose’s garden, the distant sound of the ocean lapping against the shore, the low thud of the music echoing through the crisp evening air. How many times have you walked down this path? How many nights had you spent here, your senses filled with the glory of Tannyhill, the glory of him? And yet now it felt so heavy, the sights, sounds, smells of it all were nearly choking you. Tears welled in your eyes, but something kept your feet walking towards those grand front doors, towards him.

Four years earlier…

The glass panes of the front door are slightly blurred, only revealing the soft lighting of the grand entryway on the other side. You had crossed this threshold at least a thousand times in the ten years since your family moved to this island. Knocking felt strange, you felt so small standing here in the porch light, surrounded by moths and the thick coastal August air. An envelope, wrinkled from being opened and rifled through so many times, was clutched between your clammy hands.

A figure you couldn’t quite make out approached the door, and your heart pounded in your ears as you hoped desperately it would be him who opened the door. But it wasn’t.

“Oh, hey - I- hi, Mr. Cameron,” you stammered, ever intimidated by the island’s most powerful man.

“Y/N,” Ward nodded cordially. “It’s after 10pm.”

You smiled weakly, if you felt small before, you feel positively infantile now.

“I was just hoping I could see Rafe for like, just a second,” you pleaded, putting on your sweetest smile.

“He’s studying,” Ward said. “You can come back tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Before you could protest, the door was closed and the blurred figure retreated into the house.

Never one to give up, you stuffed the letter into the back pocket of your jeans, and stepped back from the porch, sizing up the massive house to see which rooms still had lights on. You knew the blueprint of this place by heart, checking off each family member mentally as you scanned their window for signs of life. Wheezie’s room? Dark. Sarah’s room? Dark. Rose and Ward’s room? Still lit. This would have to be a stealth mission. 

You snuck around the side of the house and looked up at the last window on your list. To your excitement, the room was still lit. You saw a long shadow pass by the curtains, and you actually jumped a little from the thrill. After spending the longest summer of your life apart from the one person you wanted to spend it with, he was actually right there, just two stories off the ground.

You traveled 800 miles today, what was a few more feet? Blocking out the better judgment ringing in the back of your mind, you picked up a few pebbles from the rocky path that leads to the backyard, and started climbing the big tree that grew right up past Rafe’s balcony. How you were gonna get from the tree to the balcony? That was five-minutes-from-now-you’s problem. You chuckled to yourself as your body naturally found each branch and knot on the tree. You used to have competitions when you were kids to see who could climb this tree the fastest, and you beat Rafe everytime. You remembered the shocked look on his face the first time he saw you scurry up the tree, you were hoping for a similar level of approving surprise once you got where you were going.

Once you reached the branch directly across from Rafe’s balcony, you pulled one of the pebbles from your pocket and chucked it at his window as hard as you could. 

“Shit,” you whisper-yelled as the throw fell short and the pebble dropped, loudly knocking into the first floor window below. You couldn’t afford another noise-causing miss, so you recalculated the throw and bit your lip as you lobbed the next pebble hard. It smacked into Rafe’s window with a loud TINK and you smiled in satisfaction. You waited a moment, then two, and still nothing. The shadowy figure did not return to the curtain. You only had one pebble left, and you had never been good at climbing back down this tree. Remembering the time you fell out of it onto the waiting Rafe below, and you both ended up needing stitches, your stomach twisted in fear. You took in a deep breath and held it, letting the last pebble fly. Another sharp TINK, and a moment of baited breath later, the tall shadow finally returned to the window.

Rafe opened the curtains harshly and you immediately broke into a wild smile. He looked so cute in his fitted gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, his normally gelled back her falling in messy pieces around his face. You held back a giggle, delighted by the completely confused look on his face as he searched out the window for the cause of the sound. He lifted the window open and examined the two pebbles that had fallen on the windowsill. 

You took the opportunity to whisper a loud “psssst.” His face shot up in surprise and his eyes finally found you in the tree, just a few feet off of the balcony. Where you expected to see surprised delight on his face, you instead caught something cold and irritated.

“Y/N,” he whisper-called to you. “What are you doing?”

“I just got back, I wanted to see you!” You called to him, hoping his apparent anger was just in response to his own shock.

“I’m busy.” Rafe went to close the window and you felt your moment of opportunity slip away.

“Wait!” you stopped him. “Please don’t make me climb down. We both know it won’t end well.” You smiled a sweetly shy smile you hoped would melt his icy demeanor a bit.  

He sighed and looked at you annoyed for a moment before climbing out the window, his height requiring him to duck low in order to make it through. He had grown even taller over the summer, he must have hit 6 foot by now, maybe more. Your stomach flipped as you watched his athletic frame emerge from his bedroom, now able to see how defined his arms looked in the moonlight. You’d always thought he was a cute boy, but the way he looked right now lit a fire in your belly. Then you realized what it was - while you were gone, the cute boy-next-door had become a man.

“Just reach over,” he directed you.

“I don’t think I can without falling,” you explained. “I think I’m gonna have to jump.”

“Are you stupid?” He scoffed humorlessly.

Your heart sank, the boy you left behind three months ago never would have called you stupid.

“It’ll be fine, you just have to catch me,” you explained.

He rolled his eyes and opened his arms, reaching them over the bannister of the balcony, “fine.”

The brief moment of joy you got from his submission faded fast as you made the mistake of looking down at the gap between the tree and the balcony.

“Actually…” you said, bravery fading.

“What, are you scared?” Rafe taunted.

“No!” you insisted. You smiled at him, suddenly feeling like the two of you were ten again and he was daring you to jump off the trampoline into the pool in your backyard.

Now or never. With a deep breath and a sharp yelp, you threw yourself out of the tree and towards his waiting arms on the balcony. As promised, he caught you, and pulled you quickly over the bannister. His arms wrapped around your waist, yours around his shoulders, he held you there just a few inches off the ground.

You flattened your hands against the taut muscles of his shoulders, delighting in the strong warmth of them. But before you could fully revel in the feeling of being in his arms, he released his grip on your waist and you dropped the final few inches to the ground. Rafe quickly stepped back, breaking the lock your arms had around his neck. Despite the southern summer heat, the air between you suddenly felt ice cold.

“Rafe,” you whispered, stepping towards him, but he only pulled further away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without even looking at you.

Rafe started back towards his window, and something gave you the feeling he was not going to invite you to follow him through it.

“I need to talk to you,” you started to explain.

Rafe whipped around to face you, the way he towered over you at his new height sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Why don’t you go talk to your new boyfriend instead?” He snapped.

You were so stunned that you let out a little laugh, which only made his furrowed brow scrunch even more in anger.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“I saw the pictures your camp was posting on their website all summer. I saw you wrapped around that douchebag.”

It took a moment of confused silence for you to realize what he was talking about, when it finally dawned on you, you laughed again. He turned from you and started heading towards the window again, but you caught his arm, your hand not able to fit even halfway around it.

“No, Rafe,” you explained, “That was just Andy, one of the other campers. We were doing a trust fall exercise. He dropped me like two seconds after that!”

Despite himself, Rafe turned to look at you, eyes examining you nervously. 

“Are you ok?” He asked in a small voice, wishing desperately that he didn’t care.

You smiled softly, there he was - your boy. 

“I’m fine,” you assured him, showing him the small scar on your wrist. “Just a little scrape.”

A moment passed, he avoided your eyes but allowed you to step closer, your hand sliding down his arm and slipping into his, his fingers reluctantly intertwining with yours. You knew exactly what words he was struggling to find, but decided to let him get there on his own.

Finally, “Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

Your other hand reached into your back pocket and pulled out the envelope you had tucked away. You held it out to him wordlessly. He took the letter and held it to the light coming from his room, examining it with a confused look. The envelope was addressed to him at Tannyhill, from you at camp. When he finally noticed the “return to sender” label, it all clicked.

“They kept getting returned to me, I don’t know why,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I asked to use my phone to let you know but they wouldn’t let me. I almost just snuck out of camp and came home so I could explain it to you.”

“Your mom would’ve been so mad,” he said, finally, finally smiling at you.

“Then she would’ve just taken away my phone and we’d be back where we started,” You said. “There’s like twenty more letters like that. I don’t know why they never made it to you, it’s like someone was sabotaging me.”

Rafe seemed satisfied with your explanation and the remaining bit of anger on his face melted away completely. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and suddenly threw his arms around you, lifting you in the air as you yelped in surprise, giggling as he started planting sloppy kisses all over your face and neck.

“Shhh, baby, my parents will hear you,” he whispered. “They’ve got me locked in my tower because I failed my last quiz in this fucking summer school pre-calc class.”

“Rafe!” you said in mock-scandal. “Naughty language!”

“Oh, baby, I can say way naughtier things than that,” he growled in your ear, your cheeks now burning from real-scandal.

“C’mon,” he said, setting you down and grabbing your hand, to lead you to his still-open window. 

He placed his large hand on the small of your back as he helped you through the window, climbing in after you and closing it slowly so as to not make a sound.

You and Rafe had done some more-than-kissing things before, but that was the night you gave yourselves to each other completely. He held you after, softly kissing the scar on your arm from when Andy had dropped you.

“Never gonna let that Andy asshole touch you again,” he said between kisses. “He can find his own girl, you’re mine.”

You giggled and he looked up at you in confusion.

“Rafe,” you were laughing hard now. “Andy’s gay.”

He broke into a bashful grin, a quick blush of embarrassment swept across his cheeks before he grew serious again and started kissing up your arm.

“I don’t care,” he said. “They should all know - all the Andys and Jakes and Chads and whoeverthefucks,” his kisses had reached your neck, “no guy is ever gonna get to touch you like me.” He pulled back and looked into your eyes with a sincerity that squeezed your heart. “Gonna love you forever. Gonna marry you, make you a mom. Never gonna spend three months, or even three fucking days away from you again. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, meaning it with your whole being.

“Good.”

Now…

The memories flooded your brain as you opened the door and stepped into the home you used to think would be yours someday. The party was swelling, the vibe feeling so familiar and so uncomfortable at the same time.

You made your way straight to the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. Every step you took sent a memory flashing through your thoughts like a shock to your brain. You passed the living room and saw movie-nights-turned-make-out-sessions on the couch, playing mario kart with Sarah and Wheezie while Rafe laughed at your hyper-competitiveness, prom pictures in front of the fireplace. You passed the dining room and saw the first family dinner you were invited to, how you made Ward laugh with a story about fishing your own dad used to tell, how Rafe squeezed your thigh under the table in pride. You entered the kitchen and saw the time you and Rafe set off the smoke alarm trying to make pancakes, the time he lifted you onto the counter and went down on you when his family was out of town. And then, standing by the keg, you saw the girl who invited you, clearly plastered already.

“Omg!” She yelled when she saw you.

Everyone else in the large kitchen turned and looked at you. It felt dramatic, but you could swear the whole room fell silent when they saw you, a comical record scratch playing in your head.

The girl who invited you ran over to you, beer sloshing over the side of her solo cup and onto her shirt. 

“I can not believe you came,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I completely forgot when I invited you, about, you know, you and-”

“Can I get one of those?” you cut her off quickly, gesturing towards her drink.

Before she could answer, a loud crash came from outside the kitchen’s open french doors. The heads that had all been watching you suddenly snapped toward the sound towards the crowded back yard. When the loud bellow of a man’s voice rang out, the people in the kitchen all ran towards the unfolding scene. You pushed through the crowd and out the doors, drawn inexplicably to the voice. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you realized why - it was Rafe.

There in the backyard, packed with drunk people and lit by string lights, Rafe stood with his fist clenched in the collar of some guy’s white button up, forcefully pulling the scared looking dude toward him while he yelled.

“I said none of that fucking cheap shit,” Rafe yelled at the guy you now realized was a cater-waiter. 

“I’m sorry sir, I-” Rafe threw the man down and he fell back in the dirt.

“This isn’t some ghetto block party out in The Cut,” Rafe yelled. “Do you know who’s fucking house you’re at right now?”

The crowd around you watched, most smiling in support of the man they looked at like he was a rockstar. You cringed at the looks of admiration in their eyes and took Rafe in with your own.

He looked different, harder. His floppy blond locks had been shaved off, and he had traded old t-shirts and jeans for slacks and a polo. He was as tall and built as you remembered, but instead of it being endearing, it was just scary as he looked down at the poor server like he was gonna kill him.

Then he spat on him. He actually spat on another human being. It disgusted you in more ways than one, and you felt your heart breaking in your chest as you realized you had no idea who this man was. The boy who held you on that night four years ago and promised to be yours forever clearly didn’t live here anymore. You turned quickly and pushed back through the crowd, unable to watch another second of this sickening display of toxic masculinity.

Rafe glared down at the pogue-scum in the dirt below him, an eerily familiar feeling washed over him as something moved quickly in the corner of his eye. He turned at just the right moment to see a whip of long hair disappear through the crowd.  But it wasn’t. It couldn’t possibly be. Surely, it was not you.

(chapter 2)

a/n: Hiiii this is the first fic I've posted in about 10 years!! Hope you enjoyed, forgive me if I'm rusty! More chapters to come :)

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Katherine’s horny thought has been sent to you: 💌

Bucky Barnes is a feral man when it comes to his girl and seeing her being friendly with Steve…he cannot contain himself anymore. You gotta share something angsty and smutty babe. For all of us. 🤍

Here’s a promt:

“Are you trying to make me jealous doll? Cause it’s fucking working.”

You’re Mine » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bucky makes sure his best girl knows that she’s his and only his when he sees her getting a little to friendly with Steve.

Warnings: Angst, Smut (18+), language, mentions of alcohol, jealousy, kissing, hickeys, fingering, unprotected sex, daddy kink, metal arm kink, praise kink, praise kink, choking, degrading, name calling (slut), use of pet names

A/N: Thank you for requesting @katherineswritingsblog 🩷

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

Bucky watched from across the room as your hand rubbed Steve’s bicep, giving it a squeeze. His right hand was clutching the glass so tight that it could shatter any second. Bucky’s jaw clenched when you kissed Steve on his cheek. That was the last straw for him. Bucky downed the rest of his whiskey and slammed the glass on the table, not caring if he broke it or not.

“Hey doll, we better call it a night. We have that thing to do tomorrow.” Bucky says, grabbing your upper arm.

“What thing?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“You know what I’m talking about.” He says, tightening his grip on your arm, making you wince slightly.

“Oh yea!” You went along with it. “Goodnight, Stevie.” You say, kissing Steve’s cheek again.

Bucky practically drug you out of the room to the elevator and to yours and his shared bedroom. He closed and locked the door the second you two got in the bedroom. He then pinned you against the wall.

“Are you trying to make me jealous, doll? Cause it’s fucking working.” He practically growls.

“Now you know how I feel, James.” You say with sass in your tone.

Bucky chuckles and shook his head.

“So this is what that little stunt was about, huh?” He starts. “You decided to flirt with Steve cause I was talking to that girl at the coffee shop yesterday.” He says.

“More like flirting.” You say with an attitude.

Bucky grasped your jaw, making you look straight at him. His blue eyes were filled with jealousy, anger, and lust.

“How many god damn times do I have to tell you? I told her that I have a girlfriend and wanted nothing to do with her.” He says, almost gritting his teeth.

“That’s not what I saw!” You say.

“What did you think you seen, babydoll?” He asks.

“You were flirting with her! That’s what I seen and heard!” You say.

“And you think that it makes it right to flirt with my best friend?” He says.

“I wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine.” You say.

Bucky scoffs and shakes his head.

“Let me tell you something, babydoll…” His face got closer to yours, his lips inches from yours. “You’re fucking mine. Not Steve’s. Mine.” Bucky growls.

The next thing you know, you hear the sound of fabric tearing. Bucky just ripped off your dress. You didn’t even have time to react to it cause he yanked your panties down your legs and picked you up. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. Bucky almost immediately latched his lips on your neck, his teeth biting down hard enough to mark you up. A moan left your lips when his metal fingers rubbed your clit. His fingers found their way to your wet entrance, circling it teasingly before unexpectedly sliding two metal fingers inside of you. His fingers fucked you fast while his metal thumb rubbed your clit. You threw your head back against the wall, moans of his name leaving your lips.

“Oh daddy!” You moaned.

His fingers found your sweet spot almost immediately. Your pussy clenched around his fingers every time his fingers hit it.

“You’re such a fucking slut for me.” Bucky almost whispers. “I bet I can get you to cum in seconds just with my metal fingers.” He says.

You couldn’t form any coherent words. Moans and whimpers left your lips the more he degraded you. Honestly, you fucking love it when he degrades you. Bucky knows it turns you on. That’s why he does it.

His fingers were hitting all of the right spots, massaging your wet and warm walls and hitting your sweet spot causing your cunt to squeeze around his fingers. Your orgasm was building up quickly.

“I bet you’re so close, aren’t you, doll?” Bucky taunts. “You want to cum, don’t you?” He says.

“Yes please, daddy!” You whimpered.

“That’s too bad.” He abruptly took his fingers out of your pussy and leaving you frustrated. “You’re not gonna cum for a while.” He says, making you whine in frustration.

Bucky walked you over to the bed, dropping you on it. You propped yourself up on your elbows and watched as Bucky stripped himself out of his clothes. You looked down at his hard cock and licked your lips.

“My eyes are up here, doll face.” Bucky says, snapping his fingers.

“Shut up and fuck me.” You sassed.

Bucky spread your legs and got in between them. A loud moan left your lips when Bucky thrusted his cock inside of you in one thrust. You decided to test him more.

“Is that all you got? I’m sure Steve can give me more.” You say tauntingly.

A growl left Bucky’s lips. His metal hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing a little bit. He put his hand on the headboard above your head and began pounding into you. Your nails left red scratch marks on his back. Loud moans left your lips.

“Say that again. I fucking dare you.” Bucky growls. “Steve doesn’t know your body like I do. He wouldn’t know how to touch you like I do.” He says.

Pleasure took over your body. Bucky’s cock was hitting your sweet spot repeatedly. His fingers on his right hand found their way to your clit and began rubbing to the point where you were sensitive. Your pussy squeezed around his cock.

“Daddy, please!” You whined. “Please let me cum!” You begged. “I’ll be a good girl!” You whined again.

“I don’t think so, babydoll. You’re not gonna cum until I do.” He says.

“But daddy!” You whined.

“Quit your fucking whining.” He says, applying light pressure on your throat.

You tried your best to not cum, but it was so hard. His cock kept hitting your sweet spot, making you want to cum. Bucky pulled you into a rough kiss, his tongue slid past your parted lips and explored every inch of your mouth.

“You want to cum so badly?” Bucky asks. “Prove to me that you deserve to cum.” He says.

“I won’t ever flirt with Steve again. I promise to be a good girl and listen to what daddy says.” You say, followed by a whimper.

“You better be a good girl and do what I say.” He starts. “Cum for daddy, doll.” He whispers.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and a loud moan of his name left your lips as you came hard, soaking the sheets beneath you. Bucky’s thrusts became sloppy and he came inside of you. He thrusted a few more times before pulling out and laid down next to you. Both of you were sweaty and panting.

“Flirt with Steve again and I won’t hesitate to tie you to the bed and edge you.” Bucky says.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[dexteri0us]

i know i haven't been perfect, but give it some time; 'cause not a single day goes by where you don't cross my mind

pairing: dexter morgan x f!reader

warnings: fluff, injuries (burns and cuts), louis greene, and you know... dexter's dark passenger

summary: requested: "dexter being super protective of you and when he finds out someone hurt you he immediately starts hunting him to kill him"

w/c: 5.5k

a/n: spoiler alert? it made me sad that dexter didn't get to kill louis, so here we go.

Louis is taking me to the hospital. Don’t freak out. Lab mishap.

You pressed send and the text appeared in a blue bubble, under it, there was a Delivered sign that quickly turned into Read.

Which hospital?

Jackson Memorial.

I’m on my way.

You didn’t really like it when people fussed over you. It felt unnecessary and only brought you discomfort most of the time. But this time, you couldn’t deny the relief knowing Dexter would meet you at the hospital.

“Who are you texting?” Came the voice from the driver’s seat.

You cleared your throat and shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “My boyfriend.”

“Dexter?” Louis asked with a feigned curiosity.

You couldn’t stand him anymore; he was such a fake asshole it was physically hurting you. And today was honestly the last straw.

You’d spent the better part of your morning setting up your experiment, testing your final samples. The data was supposed to solidify your findings and allow you to finish your thesis.

Everything was in place, your samples loaded into the centrifuge as you triple-checked everything. Everything. The protocol, the settings on the centrifuge, spinning the rotor with your hand, ensuring that it was balanced and the lid was closed tight.

Louis had been hovering all the fucking time. You had tried to ignore him, but you couldn’t exactly tell him to go fuck himself. The lab at your school was a shared space.

“You really think you’re going to finish today?” He’d mocked you. But that didn’t throw you off. You knew you were, because you were prepared.

But then you stepped away from the centrifuge for just five seconds to retrieve your laptop. When you returned, you put the laptop next to the machine and pressed the start button on the centrifuge, causing it to whir to life, the rotor spinning faster and faster. Then suddenly, a sharp, metallic clunk echoed in the room, followed by a horrific screech. The centrifuge rattled violently and the lid flew open. Glass shards and liquid shot out like shrapnel and you barely had time to shield your face with your arm.

The pain was instant. A jagged piece of glass sliced across your forearm, and a burning sensation spread where the liquid splashed onto your skin.

“Shit!” Louis exclaimed, rushing forward with exaggerated concern. “Are you okay?”

You just clutched your arm, blood seeping between your fingers. The burn on your forearm throbbed, angry red splotches already forming. Your vision suddenly became blurred with tears of pain and frustration combined, but you held them back. You were not going to cry in school.

The commotion drew others into the lab, including your supervisor. And of course, Louis was quick to throw you under the bus. And, okay, you weren't wearing your lab coat, but nobody really was if they did something as simple as loading samples into a centrifuge.

Your supervisor sent you to the nurse, telling Louis to escort you in case you got dizzy. The nurse bandaged your arm and sent you to a hospital for further treatment. Louis chimed in, playing the part of a kind and worried colleague, and driving you there himself.

“Yes; Dexter. He’s on his way, so you can just drop me off and head back to the lab.”

“Nonsense. I can't have anything else happen to you.”

Bullshit. He wouldn’t even blink if the shards had hit your carotid artery and you bled out right there. Who knows, maybe that had been his plan all along. Louis had it out for you and Dexter, his petty vendetta against you couldn't be more transparent.

“Louis, please.” You closed your eyes in exasperation, your eyes still burning from the tears that tried to push their way through. “I know that you messed with the centrifuge. I don’t have proof, so don’t worry. I’m not gonna do anything. But at least have the decency to stop pretending that you’re innocent.”

You saw his jaw flex and his knuckles get white from how he clutched the steering wheel, but he didn’t say anything. Frankly, you were getting uncomfortable being alone with Louis in the car, but luckily, the hospital came into view.

You tried to convince Louis to go, but he wouldn’t budge. He knew you hated his presence, and he reveled in the feeling that he was making you uncomfortable. You also had a hunch he waited for Dexter so he could provoke him too. He was like a lurking predator, leaning against the far wall, as the nurse gave you a sympathetic smile, adjusting the bandage on your arm. The burn cream was cool against your skin, but the sting of the injury sent vibrations through your whole arm.

The door opened, and your muscles finally relaxed. Dexter stepped in, his focused gaze sweeping the room. His eyes landed on you first, taking in the bandage on your arm and the nurse’s careful work. Then, his gaze flicked towards Louis.

Louis straightened up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Dexter, hey! Don’t worry, YN’s alright. I made sure she got here safe.”

Dexter ignored him. If he hadn’t, he might have done something… nobody here needed to see. There was going to be time for that to do it right. Instead, he made his way straight to you.

“Hey,” you said with a tired smile.

His hand reached out to cup your head, his thumb brushing your temple and over the edge of your eyebrow in a soothing manner as his other hand hovered over your injured arm, as if to make sure it was still attached. His brows were furrowed, his shoulders and chest stiff as if he was holding his breath.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Getting burned by an oven hurts more.” You tried to lighten the mood, but humor wasn't exactly his way of coping.

“What’s he still doing here?”

“I think he wants to steal you away from me.”

“YN…”

“I don’t know, Dex. He’s a fucking vulture, you know that. I told him to leave, but he wouldn’t.”

You weren't even joking anymore; it wouldn’t surprise you if Louis had done this to get Dexter’s attention. Or get back at you for having Dexter’s attention. Louis had probably been obsessed with him long before you started coming to the Miami Metro’s forensics lab to work on your thesis. Louis, as a graduate and now a lab tech at your university as well as a senior intern at Miami Metro, was supposed to be your guide, to help you acclimate.

You had known Louis from school, and ever since he’d started working at Miami Metro, his ego had been bursting through the roof, so you hadn’t been so psyched when you’d found out you’d have to share a working space, but hey, what could you do. At least, he was genuinely eager to assist, proudly showcasing his knowledge of the lab’s high-tech equipment and Miami Metro’s most famous cases. But his favorite thing to do was name-dropping Dexter. Louis had never said it in those words, but Dexter was like a god to him.

“He’s a genius. Everyone here knows it. Stick with me, and you might even learn enough to impress him.”

You’d fought the urge to roll your eyes. “I’m here to work on my thesis, Louis. Not to waste my time.”

Louis had always been too loud, too close and most importantly, too self-important for your liking, and you’d thought back then already, that his admiration for Dexter bordered with obsession.

And when you finally met the famous Dexter Morgan, you were surprised how underwhelming it was. You actually expected another loud and arrogant scientist, but he was the exact opposite.

One morning, while you were struggling with the calibration of a piece of equipment, a calm and monotone voice spoke behind you.

“You’re off by a millimeter.”

You jumped out of your skin, closing your eyes to regain composure before turning around and finding Dexter with his hands in his pockets, just standing there. You hadn’t met, but you knew what he looked like.

“Fuck, thanks. Were you trying to give me a heart attack to keep me from using it? Jesus Christ.” You were still shaking off the jumpscare you just received.

“Sorry.”

“You’re good. Dexter, right? The guy who specializes in puddles.”

“Blood spatter analyst,” he corrected with a nod, and for a moment, you were taken aback by the lack of reaction to your joke. You introduced yourself and shook his hand, before he left without another word.

To him, you were just another in a parade of visiting academics, someone he’d forget as soon as your project ended.

Well, apparently, you liked to talk, making it hard for him to ignore you. It's not like you were targeting him specifically, you were just a naturally friendly person.

Vince's attention wasn't exactly hard to earn, especially if you were a woman, but Dexter noticed how you laughed even with Angel. Not that Angel was a touch-me-not, but it was still surprising to see you navigate the station with such ease, like a newcomer staking a claim in unfamiliar territory. You didn't force yourself into conversations; you didn't even have to. You had your own gravity around you, and people were magnetized to it.

“If you need something, Louis is your liaison.” He tried to brush you off one time, gesturing vaguely towards the open lab door.

“Oh, I know,” you replied, undeterred. “But Louis is busy explaining to someone how he’s basically the second coming of Einstein, so I figured I’d ask the real expert.”

But you didn’t wait for him to respond, taking the hint and leaving him alone. For now anyway. It made the corner of Dexter’s mouth twitch, but he caught himself and got back to his work. He thought about it for a moment before deciding that it would be suspicious if he was the only one ignoring you.

Over the next few weeks, you made a habit of dropping by his desk. At first, he found your presence… perplexing. You asked too many questions – some of them genuinely insightful, others just… so absurd. You often hovered just enough to be noticeable, but not enough to be intrusive. And your sense of humor seemed to exist solely to see how far you could push him before he reacted. And to create a bond with his sister.

You and Deb shared that bark, and he didn’t know what to make of it. The sarcasm often rang through the breakroom, and while he wasn’t one to eavesdrop, one time he heard a mention of his name.

“Does your brother ever smile?” you asked Deb, leaning against the counter.

“Well, you know, occasionally.”

“Yeah, what’s the occasion? Winning the lottery? Accidentally putting sugar in his coffee instead of salt?”

His brows furrowed in confusion. Why would I put salt in my coffee? But unlike him, Deb laughed.

“More like when someone's bleeding out somewhere. You don’t even wanna see that, it’s creepy as hell.”

“He’s fascinating actually,” you said when you stopped laughing, taking another sip of your coffee.

Fascinating. Most people called him odd, socially awkward, or at best, smart. His victims called him sick or a freak. But fascinating was new. And unsettling. He didn’t particularly like being noticed, but he found himself not minding your attention. Dexter realized that when he came in on Louis scolding you for talking him.

“He’s not your friend or your assistant, okay?” Louis snapped at you, his voice rising in frustration. “I am. So, stop bothering him and do some actual work.”

Before you could respond, Dexter stepped in, his voice firm. “Woah, Louis. Thanks, but I think I can handle myself.”

“I’m just saying, she’s supposed to focus on her thesis—”

“And she is. I also don’t mind helping her.” He turned to you then. “At least, when she ends up working here, she’ll already know the ropes.”

Dexter wasn’t serious, he didn’t even know if you ever wanted to work in forensics. But to Louis, the words felt like a slap. For months, he’d bent over backward to gain Dexter’s respect, but he’d never earned more than a dismissive glance. And you just waltzed in, cracked a couple of jokes, and suddenly, you were like Dexter's personal pet.

It was clear he didn’t like how Dexter responded to you. You noticed how his behavior changed, becoming petty even at your university lab. It was like he was waiting for you to make a mistake while his jokes grew meaner, more passive-aggressive

However, Louis was still essentially a random guy. He wasn't your superior, so you didn’t let him scare you off. If he wanted to report you to your school, you had Vince's backing, and now Dexter's too, you hoped. You believed you hadn't done anything wrong, you still got your work done, so there was no reason to feel guilty.

That meant that you never limited yout contact with Dexter, who also grew more responsive over the time. You figured out that most of his laughter stemmed in ridicule, with his brows furrowed and looking at you like you were an alien which made a smile grow on your face, so you decided to lean into it. Did it make you look dumb? Yes. Did it make Dexter laugh? Yes in capital letters.

Deb was the one who finally pointed out what you had been trying to make painfully obvious for weeks.

“Jesus Christ, Dexter,” she said incredulously, smiling at him as if asking are you serious? “Are you blind, or just stupid?”

He looked up from the folder, his expression blank. “What are you talking about?”

“YN. The girl from the lab. She’s been flirting with you nonstop, and you’ve been staring at her like she’s a new blood sample. Do you even know how to human?”

His whole face scrunched up, going over your past interactions in his head. “She hasn’t been flirting. She’s just… talkative.”

Deb rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle she didn’t sprain something. “Oh my God. You’re hopeless. She’s into you, Dex. And honestly? I think she’s kind of awesome. She’s smart, funny, and she’s got this great thing where she acts like an airhead just to see your face do that confused frown thing. It’s hilarious.”

Dexter’s frown deepened. “She does that on purpose?”

“Yeah, dumbass. Seriously, ask her out before she gets bored and moves on to someone who actually knows how to crack a smile.”

Weeks passed, and to Deb’s disdain, Dexter completely ignored her amazing advice. But she wasn’t one to sit idly by and she had had enough.

One afternoon, as you were bent over a microscope in the lab, Deb stormed in with an unyielding grip on Dexter’s arm.

“Hey, YN!” she said, her voice unnaturally cheerful.

“Uh… hey, Deb. What’s going on?”

She didn’t waste any time, her hold on Dexter's arm tightening as she shoved him into the room.

“Dexter has something he wants to ask you,” she announced, crossing her arms and giving Dexter an expectant look.

Fiddling with the pen in your hand, your eyes darted warily to Dexter, not really sure what was going on. And from the looks of it, Dexter didn’t know either. He looked genuinely confused, his eyes wide and his mouth opening and closing as if trying to form words, but nothing came out.

“Uh…”

“For fuck’s sake,” Deb groaned. “He wants to take you out. On a date. There. It’s done. The cat’s out of the bag.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. A warmth surged through you, a small flicker of happiness bubbling up, but then you saw the horrified look on Dexter’s face, and it fizzled just as quickly. You turned back to Deb.

“Wow, Debra. I didn’t know you moonlighted as a matchmaker.”

“I don’t. But someone has to get the ball rolling.”

“And the first step is holding someone hostage?”

“Hosta– are you fucking kidding me?” She turned to her brother, jabbing a finger into his ribs, making him flinch. “Dexter, tell her!”

But before he could say a word, you got up from your chair and headed for the door.

“I appreciate the effort, Deb, but can we discuss this later? I need to bring these to Louis before he has a meltdown.”

“Yeah, well, fuck him,” Deb said as she watched you leave.

“I’d rather not,” you quipped with a smirk, closing the door behind you.

But maybe Deb had a point.

Maybe he should ask you out.

It had been a while since he’d had a girlfriend, and perhaps it was time to change that. Saying no to you outright might be suspicious, and blending in was a cornerstone of his life. Besides, you weren’t so bad. Being around you wasn’t unpleasant. It made sense.

That's actually what he said when he finally asked you out: it makes sense. No fumbling over words or overly rehearsed lines. And you actually liked his reasoning. It was honest in its own way and you appreciated the lack of pretense.

That was one thing you’d learned about Dexter during your time at Miami Metro: he liked a logical approach, unlike most people who responded to emotion, whose actions were driven by feelings. He felt things, sure, just not in the same way, and he rarely expressed them outwardly.

It wasn’t like you were absolutely positive that it could turn into something meaningful or that a relationship with Dexter would last, but his way of interacting with the world was so unconventional that you simply felt drawn to it.

Dexter never really offered grand romantic gestures or gush over your presence in his life. But he noticed things you liked and made small accommodations for them. He listened with the intent to understand. And while he wasn’t exactly overflowing with emotion, you saw the quiet ways he cared.

You’d once mentioned in passing how receiving gifts made you uncomfortable, the pressure to perform gratitude leaving you uneasy. So when you joked that a specific brand of coffee was your lifeblood, he didn’t hand it to you wrapped in a bow. Instead, the next week, it simply appeared in the breakroom.

He wasn’t selfish about it, like most people were when they insisted on seeing your reaction. No, he just wanted to make you happy. And with that, he scored a double.

However, ever since you started going on dates, for the lack of a better word, because neither of you ever labeled it that way, he started second-guessing himself. He became more careful, often overthinking and calculating his answers. You suspected that Deb might have been partly to blame. She was too blunt sometimes, too quick to get into his head. But you made sure to let him know that he was more likely to scare you off by saying nothing rather than saying the wrong thing.

“You’re more confident about that than I am.”

You'd told him that he was the living embodiment of having a wall up. And not any wall. It was as if someone else had built it for him, and he was struggling to climb over it.

“You’re not even bad at climbing. You’re just trying to figure out where to put your hands.”

It was a strange way for your to put it, but you managed to create a whole think tank in his head which often left him with a dull ache between his eyes. He found himself admiring your honesty, the way you refused to put on a mask just to please the people around you or conform to societal expectations.

It’s not like you outright spilled your deepest, darkest secrets, but you gave him glimpses. You hinted at your own traumas that had shaped you, so matter-of-fact and so human.

It stirred something within him. For days, he debated whether to share his own scars, until he finally did, one night during a quiet walk along the beach. It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his chest when he told you about his mother, the blood, the screams everything. Well, almost everything. He expected recoil, but it never came. You didn’t judge, it didn’t scare you away; you just looked at him with the same attentiveness, maybe a joke on your tongue about how that explained his line of work, because that's how you coped. And somehow, knowing he knew that made it easier for him to breathe.

And that night was also the night he kissed you for the first time. He didn’t plan for it. He just simply looked at you and the moonlight twinkling in your eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a different kind of urge. One he didn’t have to fight or wait to satisfy it. He let himself feel.

Later that evening, you also invited him to spend the night at your place.

He’d be lying if he said that he regretted a single second spent with you. Yeah, you never seemed to stop talking, never seemed to stop moving.

“It’s like you’re daring your neurons to keep up,” he’d said to you one day.

“Well, I need to keep my synaptic connections in shape, right?”

But still, you made the chaos seem… manageable. You were a walking paradox, bringing a strange sense of order to his life, a balance. He started to think that this was his final and definitive chance at happiness. And he wasn’t going to screw it up. Nobody was going to take you away from him. Nobody, and it was in his control.

Before you could discuss it further, the nurse came back with a new bandage.

“Your boyfriend, I presume?” she asked with a warm smile, glancing between the two of you. But Dexter barely looked at her, his focus was entirely on you.

“Was it him?” He tilted his head toward Louis, his voice low enough that only you could hear, but you saw the nurse make her way to you to apply the bandage.

“Not here,” you murmured, darting a glance toward Louis, who was still lingering near the door.

The nurse, oblivious to the tension, spoke up. “She’s going to be fine. The burn isn’t deep, and the cuts didn’t hit anything major. Could’ve been worse. You might’ve earned yourself a Nobel Prize for dedication to science, though.”

She smiled, and you saw Dexter’s lips twitch into a grimace that was supposed to look like a smile.

“What chemicals?” he asked.

“Phenol and chloroform mix,” you replied, and the nurse followed up.

“Not ideal for skin, but we got to it quickly. Keep the bandage clean and dry, and she’ll be good as new.”

“Thanks,” Dexter said shortly. Then, turning back to you, he added, “I’ll be right back.”

“Dex…” you began, knowing very well where his mind had taken him. And honestly, a part of you didn’t even want to stop him, because you wanted Louis to leave you alone.

“I said I'll be right back,” he repeated, his voice stern.

Dexter straightened to his full height and walked toward Louis, a predator closing in on its prey.

“So? How is she?” Louis asked as soon as Dexter approached him.

“How do you think, Louis? I suggest you stop fucking around or I’ll make your life really difficult.”

“What?” Louis laughed with faux confusion. “I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, and I think you’ve done enough. You can leave now. And if I find out you had anything to do with this, anything at all, you’ll wish it was you sitting on that hospital bed. Do you understand?”

“Geez, Dexter, are you –”

Dexter took a step closer without raising suspicion from other people.

“I’m serious, Louis. Do you understand?”

Louis nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Good. Now get out of my sight.”

Louis turned on his heel, but before making his exit, he turned to Dexter one more time. “Well… Catch you at work.”

Dexter ground his teeth, closing his eyes as he tried to suppress his need to protect you from Louis right then and there. He’d started seeing crimson the moment you texted him about Louis taking you to the hospital. Now, it was spilling everywhere, the red taking over his body, causing it to shake and ring in his ears. He wanted to fucking kill him. Louis had been trying to provoke him for quite some time, but he just crossed a line. Nobody will ever hurt you without consequences.

“Are you okay?” A soft voice brought him back to the present, your hand lightly brushing over his back as you tried to comfort him, ground him.

“No. I think I’ll kill him.”

You snorted. “Okay, drama queen,” you said, and hooked your arm around his, making your way out of the hospital.

Dexter hadn’t said a word during the drive, not a single one.

He’d even turned on his marching music, which he rarely did when you were with him. That was a signal in itself. He was thinking. Hard.

Once you reached his apartment, he tossed his keys onto the counter with an unusual force, and without a word, he headed straight for the first aid kit.

“Dex, I just got it bandaged. You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do. I want to see for myself.”

You weren’t entirely sure if this had something to do with the whole I don’t trust nurses thing or just general paranoia, but you decided not to argue.

“I know this isn’t your fault, but you should’ve worn your coat,” he said, his voice almost shaking as he held back from lashing out.

“I know.”

Dexter gestured for you to sit on the couch, taking a seat himself on the low table in front of you. He gently reached for your hand and began unwrapping the bandage.

“Tell me what happened.”

You described the incident in detail, including your suspicions that Louis might have been involved. Dexter gave you that Kubrick stare as his jaw tightened at the mention of Louis’ name.

When he uncovered the burn ringed by shallow cuts, he muttered a quiet Jesus.

“Once it starts blistering, you can’t scratch it, okay? It could get infected.”

“Yes, doctor,” you teased lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “That’s what the nurse said.”

It made his head twitch as he gave you a look. But he didn’t comment, instead gently placing your hand in his lap as he prepared a fresh bandage.

“Do you have any other samples left?” he asked, and it warmed your heart knowing that he cared about your lab work, too.

“Yeah, I should have some stored at the station,” you said. “Unless Louis decided to get rid of them too.”

“I’ll head back and check on them for you.”

“Well, I’m coming too. I need to get back to the lab, it’s not like I’m incapable of running the experiment again.”

That was a hard no. He didn't even have to think about it.

He didn’t like the idea of you being back at the lab, not when Louis was going to be there. But he also knew he couldn’t keep you away from the lab for long, so he needed to do this fast. He convinced you to stay at his place until the next day, at least. After all, you did feel tired from the burning pain and the pills that started to kick in. As Dexter stood to leave, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, before kissing you on the lips, anchoring himself to you before heading back to work. And to take care of Louis once and for all.

It was easy. Louis was obsessed with serial killers, but he still lacked the skillset Dexter’s usual victims challenged him with. Now, he was going to give him the full-time experience.

He broke into his apartment and waited until Louis got home. A sharp prick to the neck and strapping him to a chair. Not his usual routine, but this wasn’t really to satisfy his urges. This was to protect you.

Once he was all tied up, Dexter broke a capsule of smelling salt under his nose and Louis' eyes shot open. Dexter wasn’t going to waste much time here, but he brought something to make it more enjoyable for himself.

“Wakey-wakey,” Dexter’s voice broke through the fog of Louis’s confusion.

He blinked, before he started thrashing against the rope. “What the hell?!” he shouted, panic rising in his voice. “What is this?!”

Dexter stepped closer to him, a faint curl of a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. In his right hand, he held a bunch of vials filled with liquid.

“Do you know what chemical burn feels like, Louis?”

“What?” he asked, confused at first, but then it dawned on him. “Wait, wait, wait! I didn’t do anything! I was just looking out for her. A-Accidents happen! Labs are dangerous places if you’re not careful, you know that!” Louis rambled, making Dexter watch him with an amused smile.

“Accidents don’t usually involve sabotage,” Dexter said evenly.

“Sabotage? Jesus, Dexter, you're blowing this way out of proportion. You're doing all this for some chick? Does her pussy feel that good?"

Dexter lurched forward, his fist connecting with Louis's face before he could react, the chair creaking against the floor as it moved with Dexter's strength. He leaned down to Louis’ eye-level, pointing a finger at his face. Louis squeezed his eyes shut, his bloody face scrunching in fear.

“Don't push it, Louis,” he said through his teeth. Dexter was quick to recover, his calm mask slipping back into place. “Let's talk about the fact that accidents always seem to happen when you’re around.”

Louis coughed, spitting blood onto the plastic-covered floor.

“You’ve got a pretty vivid imagination.”

Dexter’s lips twitched. He rose to his full height and backed away just to put down one of the vials and take a piece of cloth instead. He poured the chemical on it as he talked.

“It’s called pattern recognition,” he said, coming around the chair to stand behind Louis. “You should be familiar with that by now.” And with that, he stuffed the wet rug into his mouth. Louis twitched and thrashed, but Dexter was stronger. He made sure the cloth didn’t fall out, that Louis got the exact taste of what you’d gone through.

“How is it, Louis? You have my full attention now! The only time I’m willing to listen to your bullshit!”

He tortured him some more, before pulling the cloth out. As soon as Louis’ mouth was free, he started coughing. Then, Dexter poured some of the prepared solution on his glove.

“Did I get the concentration right, or was it too strong?” Dexter asked, rubbing his covered fingers together, the rubber shining under the kitchen light. Louis’ breathing quickened.

“Please. I won’t go near her again. I swear!” Louis cried out.

Dexter leaned in close again, his face inches from Louis’.

“You’re right. You won’t.”

And without further explanation, he pressed the gloved hand against Louis’ arm, holding it there long enough for the sting to start. Before Louis’ scream got too loud, Dexter stuffed his mouth with the rug again as he writhed in pain, the burning sensation spreading.

“That’s just a fraction of what she felt. And you’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood tonight. Otherwise, I would pour it right into your fucking eyes, your mouth, I would cut your skin open and fill it up before stitching it back together.” Dexter put his still wet hand on a different part of Louis’ arm, watching him squirm. “I would make you fucking drown in it.”

Dexter stepped back, watching Louis’ chest rise and fall with his heavy breathing, some tears sliding down his cheeks, mixing with his blood. Dexter closed his eyes, bathing in that satisfactory feeling as he breathed in, the smell of chemicals and sweat and fear tickling his nostrils. He made his way to the counter where his knives were splayed out, taking the sharpest one and making his way behind Louis again.

“Goodnight, Louis.”

And with that, he sliced his neck, blood spilling onto the plastic underneath the chair.

When he came home that night, he found you still on his couch. Safe and sound. Your bandaged arm rested on the book you were reading, and when you looked at him, you greeted him with that casual smile of yours.

It was so genuine, so automatic. Like it had been waiting just for him. He couldn’t let himself be the reason you’d ever lose it, couldn’t let his or anyone else's world dim yours.

Without saying a word, he approached you, pinched your chin between his fingers and tilted your head to kiss that smile, because he knew it would only make you grin wider, and that’s what he wanted. He was making a silent promise, to you and to himself, to keep it safe, because seeing you light up like that, illuminating his dark world was everything he needed. And he wanted it to last.

[officialstrawhat]

The Hate We Love To Make

Roronoa Zoro x Fem!Strawhat!Reader

Summary: You and Zoro hate each other but feelings start to change when the captain of the Barto pirates points out what a great couple you two make.

Word Count: 1.3K

Note: Not Edited!

Masterlist

The grand Colosseum of Dressrosa buzzed with the roars of the crowd. Fighters from all across the grand line had gathered, their minds filled with ambition. Among them stood Bartolomeo, nearly vibrating with excitement. He had just met his hero, Monkey D. Luffy, the future king of the pirates. But now, his attention was completely captivated by the scene unfolding before him. He couldn’t believe it! You and Roronoa Zoro were there standing right there!

Since Bartolomeo’s obsession with the Straw Hats began, he’d held the utmost respect and admiration for each crew member. But your relationship with Zoro held a special place in his heart. He’d heard tales of your synchronized battles, of how you two took down foes with perfect timing, always watching each other’s backs. Now, he watched as the two of you stood so close to each other, sharing what looked like an intimate conversation. 

Oh, how he wished he could hear every word you two were saying to one another…

OoOoOo

“IDIOT!” you hiss as Zoro walks away from you. “You’re going the wrong way!”

Kin’emon, dressed in his disguise, stood nearby with an exasperated look. In his short time knowing you he’d grown accustomed to the daily verbal sparring matches between you two.

Zoro spun around, eye narrowed. Your eyes locked with his, a storm brewing between you. “How would you know that? You’ve never been here either!”

“Because I’m not a moron!” You jabbed a finger in his direction, inching closer. It was infuriating how much Zoro seemed to get under your skin. 

Ever since you joined the crew, Zoro had an uncanny knack for getting in your way. You tried not to let it bother you but every time you were about to defeat an opponent, Zoro would swoop in and take them down first. It drove you insane. So you started doing the same to him, knowing it drove him mad with similar fury. Since then, you’d made it a habit to pick on him with Sanji, drink his alcohol, and “accidentally” wake him up from naps.

“If you’re so concerned about which way we’re going, then leave.” He pointed in the opposite direction with a sharp flick of his wrist. “Go that way.”

Kin’emon’s voice cut through the tension. “Please, there’s no need to argue—”

But neither of you heard him as you stepped forward. Your fists clenched as heat surged through your veins.  Your face was now very close to his,  “I hate you. I hope you get lost and don’t come back.”

Zoro’s lip curled, his head tilting in a mocking grin. “Big words coming from a meek woman!”

“Meek?” you repeated, eyes blazing. “You son of a b—”

A loud, high-pitched squeal erupted nearby. “Oh. My. God. It’s Mister Roronoa Zoro and Miss Y/N!” Bartolomeo’s eyes were wide with admiration, his hands clutched to his chest as if his heart might burst.

Your scowl turned to panic. “Um—no, no. I think you have us confused,” you blurted out, shifting awkwardly as Zoro gave you a look.

“Yeah, we’re just regular citizens of Dressrosa,” he added, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Bartolomeo was undeterred, bouncing with excitement. “May I just say you two are so cute together! The power couple of the Pirate Era!”

The world seemed to pause as you and Zoro exchanged glances, the fierce tension shifting to something strange and unspoken. You watched his eyes soften, only for a moment before hardening again. 

“Oh- No, we’re not a couple,” you protested.

“But you two are my OTP!” Bartolomeo exclaimed, looking devastated. 

“Listen, pal, I don’t know what that means, but she hates me,” Zoro huffed, gesturing toward you.”

“But… you defend each other in battle! Finish off each other’s foes!” Bartolomeo exclaimed. “And according to the Straw Hat fan club newsletter, it says and I quote: Zoro and Y/N’s secret love is a thing of beauty in this rough worl—”

“Yeah, hate to break it to you,” you interrupted, “but we have not, nor will we ever, be a thing.”

Bartolomeo’s face fell, and he broke out into exaggerated tears. “Oh, this is a tragedy! How could I be so wrong!”

Zoro exhaled, breaking eye contact. “Come on. We don’t have time for this.”

A small smile crept onto your lips as you followed him, muttering, “You’re still going the wrong way.”

OoOoOo

Kin’emon directed the two of you to a narrow alley, muttering something about searching for his friend and promising to return soon. As the sounds of the bustling street faded, silence settled between you and Zoro, thick with an awkward tension neither of you knew how to break. You found yourself overthinking the fanatics' odd assumption—why would he (and others apparently) think that you and the green-haired swordsman made a good match? You stole a glance at him. Sure, you didn’t want to admit it, but the scarred man was ruggedly handsome. But he had such an infuriating personality. With his brooding silences, those ridiculous earrings, and his rippling muscles—wait, what!?

The silence dragged on until, finally, Zoro broke it, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts. “Tch, don’t listen to that weird guy. He’s got no clue what he’s saying.”

You let out a dry chuckle, “Yeah, seriously. I mean, can you imagine? You and me?”

Zoro smirked, his sharp gaze flicking over to you. “Yeah, right. Total disaster.”

“One of epic proportions,” you agreed, crossing your arms and leaning back against the wall. You turned your head, pretending to be absorbed by the junk lying around, “The world couldn’t handle it.”

A glint of something unguarded flickered in Zoro’s eyes as he stepped closer, his presence shifting from casual to something more intense. “And yet,” he said, his voice a low, teasing rumble, “you’re still here. You haven’t walked away.”

You raised an eyebrow, turning to meet his gaze. “Maybe I just don’t trust you not to get yourself into trouble the second I turn my back.”

He huffed a short laugh, taking another step that brought him close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off his body. “You think I need you to babysit me?”

“Need? No.” Your voice dropped, matching his tone. “But I know for a fact if it wasn’t for me you’d be neck-deep in trouble twice as often.”

A grin curled at the edge of his lips, his eyes flicking down to your lips and then back to your eyes, lingering for just a second too long. “Guess I’d better keep you close then, huh?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat, the atmosphere between you shifting, the sharp tension morphing into something far more dangerous. The unspoken heat you’d tried so hard to ignore suddenly flared, like a fuse catching fire. For a moment, neither of you moved, as if testing how far this would go. But then, something snapped—years of friction, half-buried glances, and barely-concealed bickering finally erupted. He surged forward, and before you could second-guess it, your lips crashed into his.

The kiss was intense, more battle than embrace, a raw clash of defiance and need. Your hands found his broad shoulders, fingers digging into them as his calloused hands cupped the back of your neck, then tangling in your hair. Everything else faded: the noise of the marketplace, the distant shouts of vendors, even the thought of Kin’emon returning. For this moment, it was just the two of you, like fire meeting spilled oil—volatile, explosive, and inevitable.

When you broke apart, both of you were panting, your breaths mingling in the space between you. Zoro’s lips curved into a smirk, his eyes darkened with something that made your pulse race. “You still hate me?” he asked, his voice a husky drawl.

“With a passion,” you growled, trying to steady your breathing.

“Good.” He chuckled, his hand sliding down to grip your ass possessively. With a rough shove, he pinned you harder against the wall, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.” 

Your retort was lost as his lips found yours again, the world outside that narrow alley slipping into oblivion.

[sorcerersandskillusers]

One of the most heartbreaking scenes in The Dark Era is seeing Dazai trying so desperately to convince Oda to live. Seeing Dazai clutching at straws, repeating back the advice he must have heard a thousand times at him, just to try and get through to Oda even though he knows already that it would never work.

And the worst part is, how through this whole scene Oda is acting just like Dazai, he has the same emptiness that Dazai normally only sees in himself. So now Dazai has to go through the impossible task of convincing HIMSELF to live, something he has been unable to do all these years.

I looked at Dazai. “There isn’t anything, Dazai. It’s all over. Everything. Whatever else happens now is meaningless—just like what I’m about to do. Am I wrong?” “Odasaku…,” Dazai said softly. “Forgive me for the absurd wording, but—don’t go. Find something to rely on. Expect good things to happen from here on out. There’s gotta be something…

And then him telling Oda why he joined the mafia, even though it was clearly something he never wanted to tell anyone, in the vague hope that it just might convince Oda to stop.

Hey, Odasaku, do you know why I joined the Mafia?” I stared at him. We had known each other for a long time, but he’d never even attempted to talk about that. “I joined the Mafia because of an expectation I had. I thought if I was close to death and violence—close to people giving in to their urges and desires, then I would be able to see the inner nature of humankind up close. I thought if I did that…” Dazai paused before continuing, “…I would be able to find something—a reason to live.”

But he can't do it, Oda is too far gone at this point, he lost not only the children, but his dream. He was in unimaginable grief and suffering and just wanted things to end.

I looked at him; he looked back at me. “I wanted to be a novelist,” I said. “I thought I wouldn’t deserve such a life if I killed someone during a mission. That’s why I never killed anyone. But that’s all in the past. There’s only one thing I want now.” “Odasaku!” I began to walk away. Dazai yelled out, but I didn’t turn around. Heading west, I started my journey.

Oda's listlessness is almost a perfect mirror of Dazai in the bar after Ango has betrayed them.

“I’m not sad. I knew from the very beginning,” Dazai said. His face was a blank mask now. “It didn’t matter whether you were with the Special Division for Unusual Powers. I always lose the things I don’t want to lose the most. That’s why I don’t feel anything anymore. The moment you get your hands on something worth going after, you lose it. That’s just how things are. There is nothing worth pursuing at the cost of prolonging a life of suffering.” I stared at Dazai. We had known each other for a while, but this was the first time he’d ever opened up about himself. I could see a thorn the size of a harpoon wedged deeply into his life.

This is why I say Oda is the only character to ever truly understand Dazai, because he saw the part of Dazai that he kept most hidden from the world, he knew Dazai's unending loneliness and emptiness. And in the end, he was consumed by the very same thing. But before he died, he did what only he could do, and gave Dazai a way to escape that emptiness.

[remusluvr]

i've got soul but i'm not a soldier | remus lupin

summary: Remus can't stay away from you anymore. You can't either. content: fem reader, p in v, lovey-dovey ness, love confessions, mentions of eating (directed towards Remus, nothing bad though), unprotected sex, unedited note: based off this request

"Where are you going?"

He's laid out on your couch, face turned to the tv until you walk into the room. He looks comfortable and you wish you could change out of your dress into sweatpants and curl up with him. But you can't so you shake the thought off, finishing putting in your earrings.

"Out, Wyatt asked me on a date. We're going to that new restaurant downtown." He sits up on the couch, hands rubbing down the length of his thighs.

"Will you come back tonight?"

"Oh, uh, I'm not sure. You know I don't mind you staying here. Don't feel like you need to leave." He hums in response, eyeing you as you search for your purse and wallet. His arm is thrown around the back of the couch as he watches you in your pretty black dress and pretty shoes. The clacking against the floor warms his soul.

"I don't like Wyatt-"

You roll your eyes. You've already had this conversation - "It doesn't matter if you like Wyatt, Remus. I like him." and "Well, it should matter what your best friend thinks."

"-Why can't you just stay with me? Quality friend bonding. We can even watch that stupid movie you like."

"Hard offer to decline but I'm already running a little late so we'll have to put a pin in this conversation." Walking over to him, he leans his head back on the couch. You lean down and kiss his forehead, leaving a bit of your lipstick on the skin. Your thumb rubs it away. "I'll see you later."

And with that, you leave. It used to be easier to get you to cancel dates and stay with him the whole night. You used to jump at the opportunity but now it's like you're jumping away from him. Maybe you are, maybe you're tired of liking him as more than friends should like the other so you're putting a stop to it.

He's left all alone on your couch. Secretly, he hopes your date crashes and burns.

You laugh all the way through dinner and practically plan your second date right then and there. He's just the type of guy you like. Handsome, intelligent, tall, sweet.

And at the end of the night, Wyatt walks you to the door, kisses you on the cheek, and tells you he'll call. Remus sees this from his position on the balcony, cigarette held idly between his fingers. He also sees the way you deflate after he walks away. Was it not a good date? Did Wyatt treat you badly?

"Have fun?" he asks, walking back in through the screen door. You startle, clutching at your chest as you mess with the buckle on your shoes.

"I did. We had a good time."

Remus wants to scream. He wants to be the one taking you on a date so badly. Everything inside of him yells at him to grow a pair, to finally bite the bullet. But, he can't bring himself to risk your friendship. You mean too much to him.

His heart is weighed down. The last thing he wants is for you to get into a relationship. It'll ruin everything. He won't be able to stay over as much, won't be able to hold you when you're having a bad day, won't be able to do any of the things he loves doing with you.

Wyatt's good for you, he'll make you happy. It's what you keep telling yourself in your head. You hate that you can't get Remus out of your head.

Remus feels erratic like he's clutching at straws with you, trying to get you to like him back. And you feel crazy for even thinking of him as more than a friend. You feel like a bad friend.

"Do you need help with those?" he laughs, watching the way you're still struggling to get the clasp of your shoe undone. Laughing, you kick your foot out towards him and he joins you on the floor. His nimble fingers are a much better fit for the job than your shaky ones. His hands rub your foot before working on the other one.

How are you supposed to not love him?

You thank him with a kiss on the cheek. He swoons, making you giggle at him.

"You look very pretty," he whispers, helping you stand up. Your face grows hot at his compliment as you wave him off, trekking back to your bedroom to change into your pajamas and wash your face for the night. He follows you. "I mean it. Wyatt's a lucky guy."

You don't say anything as you get ready for bed. He loves this time of the night, loves how comfortable you feel with him. And he especially loves the way he can pretend you're his. The moment is so domestic that it makes him feel dizzy and when you crawl onto the bed beside him, he digs himself deeper into his hole.

"Did you eat?" you ask, getting comfortable under your blankets. He shakes his head and you scold him, "Remus. You need food. You're always such a grouch when you don't eat."

"I am not the grouch when I don't eat. You are," he bites back, fingers poking at your side. You take offense, sitting up to look at him better.

"Why must you be so mean to me?" you tease, fake-crying so he'll feel bad. It works as it always does, and he cradles you into his arms, hand stroking your hair.

He knows you're faking, anyone in their right mind would know you're faking but it gives him an excuse to touch you. And you like the way he gets so protective over you. Nothing could ever affect you in this moment. His heart twists and his mouth moves faster than he can think.

"I'm glad we know each other."

"You're such a sap," you giggle, pulling your face away from his chest.

"Only for you." His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as you settle yourself into his neck. Your breath tickles him but he doesn't mind. The moment is so delicate he's afraid any movement could shatter it. "I feel like I'm losing you."

"Why? Because I went on a date?"

"Kinda, Wyatt's going to take you from me. But, also just cause I feel like you have been acting differently toward me."

Remus is right. You have been acting sort of differently. You don't reach out to him much, he's usually the one that just shows up on your doorstep.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to." You do mean to. It's easier to get over your feelings for someone if you have less contact with them. Maybe it doesn't exactly work if when you are with that person you act like this. All cuddly and wanting for him.

Wyatt was supposed to be a new start. He was a boy that actually liked you and that wanted to be with you. He was kind and loved to hear you ramble. He was respectful and handsome. You should like Wyatt, but you can't get Remus out of your head. You never have been and you never will, you fear.

"(Y/N)?" he asks after you've grown quiet for longer than usual. You hum. He tries to calm the shake in his body. "Please don't see him again."

"What?" you ask, sitting up, still in his lap.

"Please don't go on another date with him." He knows he sounds pathetic, begging for you, but he can't help it.

"Remus, why?" His hair is messy and he looks adorable.

"I can't see you with him. You shouldn't be with him. He's not right for you and I think you know that." You do know that. He swallows his fear as he continues on, "It's not fair that I can't have you. You mean everything to me and I can't see you with him. It hurts too much."

You're silent and his brain is screaming at him. His face is on fire as you look at him. He's an idiot. Why did he say anything? His throat burns with the threat of incoming tears and he swallows hard, pushing them away.

"I won't see him again." The look on his face melts you. It's one of confusion mixed with relief. You lean forward to ease his confusion, pressing your lips to his. He takes you willingly, hands holding your face. You whine when he pulls away first, chasing after his lips as he catches his breath.

You have a stupid smile on your face. He mirrors your expression as his head tips back against your headboard.

"You look pretty," you whisper, kissing at the exposed skin of his neck. His hands have a firm grip on your hips. You smile against his skin when he whimpers at your nibbling. "So, so pretty."

"Y-you should look at yourself," he whispers back, eyes shut as you kiss behind his ear. He can't believe his luck. He has the girl he's wanted since school in his lap, calling him pretty and biting at his ear. He must've died and gone to heaven for this to be happening.

"I wish you had said something sooner. Or I wish I had told you. Never would've even thought about another guy."

Yeah, he has to be dead.

"Lily's been nagging me to just tell you. She doesn't like Wyatt either," you mumble, enjoying the way he's so intoxicated on you. He likes your boldness. It doesn't happen often but the rush from your love confessions must have you giddy. You press kisses along his jawline, stopping at his lips. "You mean so much to me, was just scared that you'd freak out and leave me, y'know."

"Yeah, I get that," he sighs, deepening the kiss. His hand holds the back of your head to keep your face to his. It makes you feel shy. You know the perfect way to really kill him but you've never seen Remus in this light before and the knowledge of that strikes you down. He's left to be the bolder one, flipping you over and pressing you against your pillows.

You're panting into his mouth and he's loving every single second of it. He loves to be in control, loves having you yearning for more underneath him. Any composure he thought he had is gone when you pant out, "All I could think about on my date was hoping you were here when I got back."

He moans into your mouth, pulling away to rest his forehead against yours. He's a goner. And despite the fact that he wants to do this right, he can't stop imagining what it would be like to fuck you. He can't though, not yet. He's got one chance and he won't fuck it up.

"You're making this very hard, sweetheart." He knows exactly what he'll do. He'll start with a nice date to a restaurant of your choice, maybe a walk or a drive after to somewhere with a nice view where he will kiss you chastely, and then when you return to either one of your apartments (yours preferably, he's been having a pest problem. the pests being James and Sirius) where he'll fuck you, like a gentleman.

"This?" you ask, voice smooth and sultry as your hand reaches down, palming him over his sweatpants. His plan flies out the window. Your fingers dip into the waistline of his pants, pulling lightly. "Want them off."

"Needy girl," he chastises as though he isn't already on the brink of cumming in his pants. He moves off the bed, removing his pants and boxers before laying back down, allowing you to crawl back over to him, hand wrapping around his cock.

He's definitely died.

You're glad that you don't have any roommates right now with how loud Remus is being. You love it. These are the only sounds you want to hear for the rest of your life. He hates that all the focus is on him.

He reaches out, pulling at the bottom of your shirt. You relent, releasing Remus from your grip to pull your shirt over your head. He sucks in a breath at the lacy bra you're wearing. You must have kept it on after your date.

A tinge of jealousy rushes through his veins at the thought of you wearing it for someone else. It quickly simmers out once he remembers that you're all his now. He smiles, pulling you to sit on his lap again.

"Rem," you sigh when he pulls the cups of your bra down, leaning in to pull one of your nipples between his teeth. He loves the squeak he gets out of you and the way you grind your hips down onto him. "Don't tease me, please."

"You make me so happy." He doesn't know where all this gooeyness is coming from. He's always felt it but the fact that he can say it aloud now has him keening. He watches the flush take over your cheeks as his hands settle on your hips, helping you move against him.

There are a lot of things Remus wants to do to you. He's glad that he has so much time to do them all with you.

It's difficult to focus when you can feel him underneath you. You're so wet that you're sure he'd be able to just slip right inside you, no prep needed. You test your luck, pushing your underwear to the side and guiding him with your hand.

"Oh my fucking god," he whines when you sink down on him. He holds you down, not letting you move. You lean forward, pressing kisses on his face. It's not helping. He needs to cum so bad and the feel of your wet cunt has only increased that feeling by tenfold.

"Let me move, I wanna make you feel good." It takes him a moment but he lets you take the lead, letting his head drop back against the headboard as he watches you. He can never go back to how you were before. He needs this at every moment of every day. "A-ah, you're so big."

"Doing s-such a good job, bunny." That's a new nickname. You like it. You wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in his neck as you fuck yourself back on him. His hands grip your ass, spreading you open so you can really feel all of him. "So, so perfect for me."

He feels your lips pecking at his neck again and his arms wrap around you, taking complete control as he bounces you down on him. You don't have any time to warn him that you're about to cum before you're cumming. It pushes him right over the edge and he cums inside of you.

"Shit," he groans when he can think again. You're putty in his hands, letting his limp cock rest inside of you, no want to move any time soon. He pushes your face up with a few fingers at your chin. Your eyes are so heavy that they're barely open. He's proud of himself. "I'm sorry, baby."

"What?" you worry, eyes flying open. Did he think this was a mistake? Were you only a fuck to him? You can't go back now, not when you know how good he fucks you.

"I didn't mean to finish inside." Your heart rate returns to normal and you drop back down onto his shoulder, shrugging. You like it. His brain is spinning. His hands rub soothing circles on your back before he's working you off of him, cooing when you hiss at the overstimulation of him pulling out.

"Love you, Rem," you mumble as he helps you get comfortable in bed. He can't resist pressing a kiss to your forehead before reaching over and turning your lamp off.

"Love you too."

[nino-rox]

ADDICTED | BYEON WOO SEOK X MALE READER | M.A

Content Warning : Sexual themes, Top Wooseok and Bottom Male Reader, Angst, Mature, Use of Drugs (Marijuana), Trigger Warning - emotional /mental abuse, college AU.

Disclaimer : This is a Fan-fiction story written for entertainment purposes only, no part of the story implies or affirms anything regarding real world events or individuals. Please be of the appropriate age ( i.e, Adult as per your country’s stipulations and regulations) before interacting with this post

I woke up feeling cold and lonely in our bed.

When I opened my eyes and saw the empty side of the bed where Woo Seok was supposed to be sleeping I remembered last night and how he just left.

I turned to the side and stared at the empty space where his face would usually rest. It felt so lonely, I almost wanted to cry. I reached over to his side of the bed and touched his pillow, hugging it to my chest and trying to catch any last lingering scent of him.

The scent of him comforted me as I sat in silence for a while, hugging his pillow close.

After a while I got out of bed, I felt so drained, both mentally and physically.

I had hoped last night was just a dream. That maybe he was still here somewhere.

I walked into the kitchen, hoping he'd be there with breakfast and his charming smile. I hoped he would greet me with his arms wide open and tell me he was sorry and that everything was going to be okay. But there was no one in the kitchen. Just an empty table and a lonely chair.

It made me sad. I thought we were finally getting better. That maybe things were looking up for us. We had been fighting a lot lately and things between us had been really rocky. Last night was the last straw for me. I had decided when he get’s back….if…. He gets back…. I need a break.

We hadn't gone on a proper date in months. It seemed like all he wanted to do was stay home, sit on the couch and drink. I tried talking to him about it but he kept avoiding it. I tried bringing up the topic, but every time we would end up in another fight.

We were fighting over such small things lately, things that never used to be a problem, over a towel on the bed, over lights, food, sex, everything.

I couldn’t take it anymore, it felt like we were falling apart and no matter what I did he wouldn't talk to me, he was shutting me out and I was sick of it.

"Why are you making a big deal out of this? Why don't you go out with your stupid friends!" He yelled.

"Because I want to spend time with you!"

“ I can’t with you right now. I need a fucking break. I am so sick and tired of this! Just go, please! I need some fucking air. I am sick of being in this house, with you, all day long. I need to clear my mind. Please just leave me alone." He said and walked away.

"Wait, Wooseok." I ran after him, grabbing him by the arm and turning him around to face me.

"I don't want to be in this house alone right now, if you walk out right now, I WILL hold it against you…I mean it."

He looked at me and for a second I saw a glimpse of the old him. My sweet and kind Woo. He was there. Behind those dark eyes, I saw the same man that I fell in love with. The man that brought me coffee in the morning, and made me laugh so hard, I could barely breathe. Always hung out with me in every class break. The man that always asked how my day was and would bring me a single flower just because. He was there, I knew it.

But as soon as the glimmer came, it disappeared and all that was left was anger and darkness.

"Let go of me."

"NO, Woo Seok, I will NOT let go. Please, talk to me, what's wrong, what is bothering you?"

"You. You are bothering me." He said and snatched his arm from my grasp, walking out and slamming the door behind him.

I was snapped back to reality, realizing that the last words we had exchanged were hateful ones.

I looked down at my hands, the hands that were holding him, and realized I was still clutching his pillow.

I sighed, dropping the pillow to the floor, getting into the bathroom for a shower.

I had to stop thinking about it. It was all in the past, and right now I had a day off from school and no plans...not any more … at least.

I needed to distract myself, I quickly showered, putting on my favorite outfit, the one that I had picked for the date that wasn't going to happen and headed out the door. If he didn’t wanna go to the beach … FINE, I can go.

The sun was setting as I got to the beach, there were a lot of people…and couples… enjoying the weather and the ocean view. It was a beautiful place. The waves crashed onto the shore and the sound was like music to my ears. It calmed me, and made me feel free and happy and since this day is such a bust, I might as well try and enjoy this by getting high.

I walked around a little as the sky grew slightly darker, finding a good spot, laying my towel on the sand, putting my bag and stuff next to me, before lighting up. I was taking in the scenery, the sky was growing darker and the beach was almost empty, most people were leaving, and as the smoke was leaving my lungs, I was already feeling lighter and happier excited about the high to come which would make me forget about all the drama - it was also kinda cold, pretty cold.

As I took another large drag from the joint, I felt the high starting, I was more “aware” of myself and my surroundings, I felt at ease, and it felt like i had let out a breath i dint know i was holding in. Suddenly the stress of the situation began to reduce as my body felt lighter, more fluid and ‘fun’.

I was lost in the sensations of the high, I put on some music, took off my t-shirt and laid down, shut my eyes for a moment, getting comfy in my plush soft blanket.

Suddenly I heard a chuckle, a chuckle full of snark.

"Well, that's certainly a sight, I guess your dates are more fun without me"

I opened my eyes, and was met with his.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I mumbled closing my eyes immediately, not wanting to accept that this was happening.

"Nice way to greet your boyfriend" he replied, and snatched the joint from my hand, taking a long drag.

"You can't just show up here like that, we're supposed to be taking a break, remember? You didn't want me, you made that very clear. I don't have to put up with this, fuck off. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of"

"Aww Ouchie. That hurt." He said tauntingly, and then continued, "you look really good in those shorts, you know"

"Fuck off, Wooseok" I replied, sitting up and reaching for the joint, which he immediately raised above his head, out of reach from my height, as he chuckled.

His playful and casual mood was starting to throw me into a rage, why was he acting like nothing was wrong? After everything he said? Why was he now fucking with your high when you weren’t even dating anymore?

"You can't just leave and come back, whenever the fuck you feel like it."

"Watch me" He replied, taking another drag, and smiling.

"What's gotten into you? Are you drunk or something?"

"No" He laughed and handed the joint back to you - you didn’t accept it from him.

"Why are you acting like nothing's wrong, like you didn't walk out last night? Like you didn't tell me, and I quote "I am sick and tired of you"

"Oh come on, don't be a bitch!"

"Don't call me a bitch, Wooseok."

“You taking a hit or no?? It’s getting wasted over here. "

"Are you actually fucking with me right now???"

"Okay fine…Don't want it, you don't get it.." He said taking a massive drag and putting out the joint with his foot.

I stood up angrily and yelled, "Are you crazy?! That was a perfectly good joint, you just wasted it!!"

Suddenly Wooseok roughly grabbed my waist pulling me closer as he harshly held my face with one hand keeping my mouth open - he immediately pressed his lips onto mine, shotgunning his last massive drag into my mouth.

One was breathing out pushing the smoke, while the other was taking it all in.

His lips were on mine, his tongue was inside of me. It was intense. I hated that I loved it.

The kiss felt heavy and intoxicating, Wooseok slowly pushing his body’s weight onto you, both getting on our knees, lips still intact.

Wooseok slowly pulled away from me and looked at me, his gaze was hungry.

He was so beautiful, the sunset illuminating his face, and his eyes. I loved his eyes, and his smile, and the way he looked at me.

My eyes were fixed on his as I tried to catch my breath, my mind feeling shocked, angry and very much seduced at the same time.

“Tell me that wasn’t a better hit than the joint,” He whispered into my ear, his breath warm and seductive as he smirked, his gaze locked with mine, not breaking eye contact for a second. I had missed his voice, and the way his lips brushed against my skin as he spoke. I missed the way he was looking at me, and how his touch set my entire body on fire. I missed him.

I tried to say something but the words wouldn't come out.

Loosening his grip on my face he slowly moved his hand down to my hip, gripping it, and slowly pushing his leg between my thighs, as he pushed me onto my back.

He towered over me - "Now, where were we?" He whispered again, his lips grazing mine and his breath hitting my face.

His lips were so close, it was driving me crazy. I didn't know if I should push him away or pull him closer, but what about everything he said? Did I forgive him just like that? Was I really this easy?

He leaned down and kissed me, softly at first, but quickly grew more heated and passionate, his tongue exploring my mouth. His hands roaming all over my body, pulling my hips closer, pushing his knee against my crotch.

My brain was screaming at me to push him off, but my body was betraying me, wanting his touch, and craving more - addicted - addicted to him.

He slowly started kissing down my neck, his hands caressing my chest, his thumb brushing against my nipple, making me moan. He smiled and started kissing my neck, sucking hard, biting me, making me whimper and moan.

My head was spinning, it was all too much, and not enough at the same time. At some point I just had a silent stream of tears, running down my cheeks as the emotions hit me.

"I missed this so much" Wooseok whispered, kissing his way down my chest, and biting and licking my nipples.

"So much."

- I didn’t react

"Please, let's go home, okay? Come on."

- No response

"Y/N, come on. Let's go home."

"Look, I'm sorry okay? Can we please go home and talk about this?"

"No, Wooseok, you had your chance, you said it yourself, I bother you, remember? You don't need to pretend like everything is okay."

"Baby, please. Don't be like that. I didn't mean it."

"Yes you did."

"No, baby, please, it’s getting dark can we just talk inside.”

“ baby, I just wanna go home, and talk. It's so cold, and it's getting late."

- I turned around laying on my other side, my back facing him.

He sighed and then got up, packing our things, and putting everything back into my bag.

He walked over, and reached out his hand for me.

"Let's go, it's getting late.”

-I refused his hand and got up on my own, brushing off the sand.

"Come on, let's go" He said again, his voice impatient, as he grabbed my wrist and tried to drag me along.

"Stop it!" I protested, but he was still dragging me.

"LET GO OF ME!"

- I yelled, and pulled my arm away from him.

He turned to look at me, a hint of anger flashing in his eyes.

"What the fuck is your problem?" He yelled.

"You're my problem. You keep hurting me and then acting like nothing's wrong!”

"It's not like you never hurt me!,” he shot back.

"When? When did I ever do that to you?"

"You didn’t even run behind me in the morning when I said we needed a Break, you didn’t even care! You couldn’t care less about fighting for this relationship!."

"OFCOURSE I CARE! Maybe I would've chased you if you didn't leave after yelling at me and telling me to leave you alone!, and as for FIGHTING for the relationship, ALL I HAVE DONE is fight for it! - Chase after you ??? For What ???? You and I NEVER make it fucking work, has anything we’ve had for so long even barely qualify as a relationship?,” I snapped back in rage, only realising what I had just said after his expression fell dark and cold. Before I could Tell him I would never mean that -

"JUST WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT Y/N” He shouted at me, his voice was harsh and his eyes were dark and cold, there was no trace of the Wooseok I had just been kissing.

I didn't respond, my heart was beating fast, and I felt like I couldn't breathe.

"WELL ?" He shouted again, stepping closer to me.

"W-what?"

"What do you want from me, hm? What can I possibly do to fix this? You are always complaining, about something, and nothing I ever do is good enough for you, it's never enough, and you're always mad at me, what the hell do you want from me?!

“ I JUST WANT YOU, OKAY !! I WANT YOUR LOVE AND ATTENTION AND PRESENCE I WANT YOU TO HOLD ME I WANT YOU TO BE THERE! “

I paused for a second and then continued, my voice cracking. - "And you weren't. You aren’t.

It was like I could see the person I love crumble, his expression changed and I saw his eyes start to water.

"Will you give me.." he hesitated for a moment, and then continued, his voice shaking.

"will you give me another chance?, Please."

- The last word came out almost like a whisper.

I didn't say anything. My eyes were filled with tears.

He stepped closer to me, his eyes fixed on mine.

"Please" He whispered.

"Just one more chance. Please."

-I still didn't say anything.

"Please, Baby."

-I nodded.

"Say it, say you'll give me another chance."

-He pleaded, his voice barely audible.

"I will"

-His expression changed.

-His eyes lit up as a smile spread across his face, tears still streaming.

"Thank you" He said, before wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face in my shoulder.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly, my face pressed against his neck.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Y/N" He said, his voice shaking.

"it's… okay"

"no it's not. I was such an asshole to you. I'm so sorry"

"It's okay.”

"No, It's not. You don't deserve that. You deserve so much better than me. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I've been such an asshole."

"You have"

-He looked up at me, his eyes watery, and his expression full of regret.

"I'm sorry, Baby. I'm so sorry" He repeated.

-He hugged me tightly, his arms wrapped around my waist strongly, almost as if they were desperate to be embraced.

"I'm sorry too"

"you don't have to apologise, none of this was your fault. It was all mine. I fucked up." - “Let me make it up to you at home?” he asked smirking and grinning like an idiot while crying, which was honestly kinda cute.

"Okay, you can try, and the “I’m sorry sex” better be Earth Shattering,” - I added on, pouting…. as our lips collided.

PART 1 COMPLETE {Please Request For PART 2}

Author’s Note: Hey Everyone, This story was based on an anonymous request. This is the first time I’ve written such an argument scene in an informal/ non-academic way, so I really hope you guys like it. Please leave any feedback !!! It is always greatly appreciated. P.S - STORY IS NOT PROOF READ.

[munson-blurbs]

Inspired by this TikTok. Thank you to @lesservillain for the idea and to @emsgoodthinkin for brainstorming with me!

Summary: Eddie jumpscares you one too many times, and so you decide to freak him out at work. But who will be more shocked: him, or you?

Warnings: fem!reader, friends-to-lovers, idiots in love, brief description of (fake) gore, joke about throwing up (doesn't actually happen), kissing as a joke (please only kiss w/ consent irl)

WC: 1.3k

It was just a joke. 

A joke that had started when Eddie had barged into your house—the man wouldn’t knock if his life depended on it—and proudly announced, “I got the job!”

The job in question was a haunted house performer at Hawkins’ annual Fall Festival. You’d both been going since you were kids, and his favorite part had always been the haunted house. 

He’d gotten word about his new job in early September. By mid-October, you’re fully sick and tired of his antics. 

“Boo!” he’d yelled as he jumped out from behind the Wheeler’s couch, making you leap out of your seat. 

“Raaahhh!” he’d growled in your ear while you were in the midst of a conversation with Robin, and once your heartbeat returned to normal, you flipped him off. 

His enthusiastic “Gotcha!” during your history quiz was the final straw. You’d yelped, actually shrieked in the middle of class, clapping a hand over your mouth as Mrs. Click glared at you. 

“I’m gonna get you back for that,” you’d hissed once you’d turned in your exam, growing more irritated when he’d just shook his head. 

“You can’t scare me,” he retorted with a smirk, leaning up against a locker. “You’ve never been able to freak me out, and you never will. Don’t even try, little girl.”

Challenge accepted. 

You spend the rest of the week wracking your brain for ideas. What is Eddie Munson afraid of? What will shock him?

The obvious answer is hiding a prized possession and making him think it was stolen or lost. You grin to yourself as you picture him frantically searching for Sweetheart; maybe you could leave a ransom note of sorts. 

But that plan has too many moving pieces, so you scrap it. You’re about to give up entirely when Robin inadvertently gives you an idea. 

“You guys coming to Steve’s party tomorrow?” she asks in between bites of her turkey sandwich. 

“I’m down,” you eagerly agree, itching to have a night out with friends. 

When Robin turns to Eddie, he shakes his head. “Gotta work,” he reminds her, wiggling his fingers to emphasize the spooky nature of his job. 

Robin rolls her eyes. “Fine, okay. Stop by after. I promise we won’t make you play spin the bottle again.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, cheeks redden, and he gets up from the lunch table without another word. 

Bingo. 

The plan is set: on Friday, before Steve’s party, you’ll pay Eddie a visit at the Fall Festival. It’ll be a visit he’ll never forget, you’re sure of that. 

Robin stands with you outside the haunted house, picking at a funnel cake with powdered sugar-coated fingers. “I’ll wait out here,” she promises, “but when you’re done, I wanna hear everything. Especially the look on his face.”

“You got it.” You shoot her a thumb’s up as you jog up to the bored-looking attendant taking tickets. 

You’re in. 

The first room just sets the tone. Eerie organ music pulses through an ancient sound system, and a fog machine creates a steam that prevents you from seeing the floor. Cobwebs hang in the corners of the ceiling, though you’re suspicious that they’re not intentional decorations. 

Eddie’s not in the next room, either; just a woman wearing a blood-spattered wedding dress, wielding a knife and clutching a plastic severed head. She’s screaming something about, “teaching him not to cheat with a bridesmaid,” and looks vaguely annoyed that you’re not quaking with terror. 

You go through three more rooms, getting increasingly irritating with the lack of Eddie in each one. He’s working tonight, so he has to be here—

Loud, stomping footsteps follow you into the dungeon-themed section of the house, and your heart skips a beat as you lay eyes on him. A distorted mask covers his face, but his unruly curls give him away despite the mad scientist costume he’s donning. He holds up a knife and creeps closer, a low growl emanating from his throat. You run until you no longer can, and he easily traps you, the cold metal gate pressing into your back. 

If you’re going to do it, now’s your chance. 

In one swift motion, you turn him so he’s backed up into the gate. A soft, confused “wha—?” leaves his lips as you lift his mask and lean in before you lose your nerve. Your lips press against his; hands on his cheeks as he accepts the way you melt into him.

Why isn’t he pulling away? Why isn’t he laughing and appreciating your prank? Why does it seem like he wants this…like he’s BEEN wanting this?

Fuck. Fuck. 

This isn’t what you were expecting. He’s kissing you back, surprised but hungry, and you’re the one who ends up breaking away. 

Before he can begin to question what’s happening, you dash out of the room. No. No, no, no. Your head spins as you attempt to process the emotions pulsing through your veins. 

It was supposed to be a way of getting him back for his unwavering desire to scare you. Show him what it’s like to be the one on the other side of the joke. Because that’s all it was; a joke. 

So why do you want to kiss him again?

Fresh air hits you like a slap in the face, and once you find Robin, you cling to her like a lifeline. 

“We have to go,” you mumble, dragging her to the exit and refusing to make eye contact. 

“Whoa, what happened?” When you refuse to answer, she sighs but doesn’t relent. “C’mon, did he, like, throw up or something?”

You shake your head. “I think he liked it.”

“Of course he did,” she says with a laugh, “the guy’s in love with you.” She nudges your hip with her own. “Toldja he would lose his shit.”

Your mouth goes dry. “Robs…when I said that I wanted him to ‘freak out,’ what did you think I meant?”

Robin crinkles her nose. “Um, that the Dingus-ette—that’s you—and her doting Dingus were finally going to admit that they have big, stupid crushes on each other?” Her expression falters when you stop in your tracks. “What did you mean?”

“I wanted,” you start, swallowing hard like a gob of peanut butter is stuck to the roof of your mouth, “I wanted to get him back for scaring me. I wanted to freak him out.”

“Mission accomplished.”

She’s no longer looking at you when she speaks, and you follow her gaze to where Eddie’s shuffling over to you. You want to beg her to stay, but she just squeezes your hand in a silent good luck. 

“Hi.” Eddie’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet. “Can we talk?”

You can only nod in response. His mask is atop his mess of curls, and you can see the longing in his eyes. How have you never noticed it before? How did you not notice the need within yourself?

“Actually, I’m lying. I don’t want to talk.” With that, his arms pull you into him, torsos pressed together, and he’s kissing you. It’s like a missing link in a chain you hadn’t realized was broken, and you allow your hands to drape over his shoulders. You can feel him trembling slightly as he deepens the kiss. 

“You okay?” you murmur against his lips. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” he answers, ducking his head behind his curtain of hair. “Guess ‘m just a little freaked out that this is really happening.”

A smile twitches at the corners of your mouth, and you lace your fingers with his. 

“Good.”

--

[dontopenfairies]

“Sweetheart, is that really a good idea?” I ask, looking at him skeptically.

“Yes!” he says cheerfully. “That’s what I want!”

“Okay, but just keep in mind that we won’t be able to go to the bathroom until we get home.” I turn back to the drive-through speaker. “An iced tea and a chocolate milkshake, please.”

“Got it,” says the lady on the other end. “Pull up to the window, please.”

We wait at the window. I’m drumming my hand on the steering wheel. I have to ask again. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“One second,” I say, reaching across the seat and pulling up on his waistband, so that I can glance down at his protection.

“Hey!” he says. “We’re in public!”

I turn back to the window just as the lady gives me our drinks and I pay her. “Don’t sulk,” I say as we wait to turn back into traffic, my blinker clicking. I pass him the big milkshake. “Here’s this.”

“Yay!!” He takes it with both hands and starts to suck on the straw.

“Are you dry?” I ask as we pull out of the driveway. “I didn’t really get a good look back there.”

“You’re so mean,” he says, spitting out the straw. “You yanked on my pants and you didn’t even get what you wanted.”

“I asked you a question,” I say, stern.

“I’m dry,” he says. “But um…I kind of have to go number one a little bit.” He resumes sucking the straw.

“Up to you, honey. Do you want to hold it or do you want to go now?”

“Does something good happen if I hold it?” he asks.

“Well, it’ll impress me. Maybe we can do something fun when we get home.”

“I’m gonna hold it,” he says.

Good luck with that, I think, watching him drain the milkshake. We keep driving down the highway, between curtains of trees. We have two hours to go. I really, really doubt he is going to make it home clean and dry. I’m already watching him wiggle a little in his seat out of the corner of my eye.

“Do you want to play a game as a distraction?” I ask. He nods. “How about…let’s see how many states we can find on license plates.”

“Colorado,” he says, pointing to the car in the next lane.

“Good,” I tell him.

“Wyoming,” he says a minute later.

“I see California up ahead,” I say.

“Um, mama?” he says quietly.

“What’s going on?” He only calls me that when he’s upset or needy.

“I think my stomach feels funny.” The empty milkshake cup is rolling around on the carmat under his feet.

“Yes, honey, I told you that was going to happen if you had that milkshake.”

“I have to go pee but I think I have to go number two also,” he says, still in a quiet voice. I look over to see restless hands clutching at his crotch.

“Sweetheart, give up trying to hold your pee, it clearly isn’t working,” I say, reaching out and grabbing his hand. “Put your hand on my thigh. That’s a good boy. Put your other hand on your knee. You’re okay. You can go pee if you need to.”

“I want to hold it,” he says, pressing his thighs together. “Oh no…” he whispers.

“What’s going on?”

“I can feel it moving in me and I’m not even pushing. There’s like a pressure…I don’t think I can hold it.” He isn’t talking about pee.

“Are you sure? Hold really tight inside, honey. Clench up your stomach. Can you do that? Maybe I can find a rest stop.” I’m scanning the road up ahead. Nothing.

“I don’t think so,” he says. Now he’s sitting on his hands. He lets out a long fart.

“Do you feel better? Was that it?”

He shakes his head. “It’s like my body is pushing it along with me asking,” he says. “I’m…it’s coming out!” He whimpers, raising his body a little bit off the seat.

“Try to cut it off and hold it,” I say, worried about a blow-out or leak on the carseat.

“I can’t control it at all,” he cries out. “I’m pooping!” And then I hear a hiss of pee hitting his pull-up. He’s grabbing his crotch again.

“Oh, sweetheart…”

[fanaticsnail]

Eyes Meeting

Masterlist Here. Part 2 here.

Word Count: 3,625

PLOT: Sanji is in a relationship with the ships chronicler. Zoro accidentally stumbles across them engaging together in intimacy. As soon as his eyes meet with the chronicler's, he is enchanted by their beauty in their bliss. Warnings: Smut, voyeurism, mdni, p in v, oral f receiving, "good girl" gendered term used, consent, throuple chemistry.

(Image Source)

Tag list: @sordidmusings@feral-artistry@gingernut1314, @vespidphoenix

The first time Zoro caught you and Sanji, he was placed with the task to request a meal for the Captain of the Going Merry. Luffy was hungry, and the chef was nowhere to be found. Zoro checked the kitchens first, followed by the crew quarters; the only members of the Straw-Hat crew located were Usopp and Nami, both hyper involved with their own personal tasks of tinkering and corroborating their findings before making port at the next suitable docks. 

Luffy was sleeping in the mens joint crew quarters, splayed over all four hammocks with his body melting between each of the woven sheets. No chef, no chronicler in sight. 

As he was about to give up the search for his two missing crewmen, he heard a chorus of voices melding together in the barrel of the crowsnest. It sounded like hushed conversation; no doubt sharing of ingredients needed to be procured and restocked in the next town. As Zoro made the climb of the ropes, he prepared a pre-emptive quip to piss off the chef in his head - all thoughts halting as his head peered over the barrel edge of the crows nest. 

Shirts askew, the darkened tie atop Sanji’s neck was firmly clutched within your fisted grasp. Pants pooled below his hips, your bottom half completely removed from your body all together and cast off beside you. The chef caged you beneath him, your hair splayed carelessly below you as Sanji thrust into you with the firm slap of thighs and hips meeting. Your legs were hooked over Sanji’s hips, his hand desperately raking up your flesh and grinding his pelvis into you with every deep thrust. 

Dual groans and mewls were cast into the air, silenced only by your restraint as Sanji continued to drill your bodies to chase their highs. You arched your back, cocking your head over to the side as Sanji pressed a desperate flurry of open-mouthed kisses against your pulse. Your eyes were closed, jaw slack and brow furrowed as Sanji continued to please you; blissfully ignorant to the presence of the swordsman who was completely oblivious to the fact that the two of you were in a relationship.

Until you opened your eyes. Eyes meeting immediately with the surprised expression of the tri-wielding swordsman. As soon as Zoro made eye contact with your glazed-over, lust blown eyes; his face tinted the deepest shade of red it could muster with its elevated flush. His breath hitched in his throat, the quip he had planned on uttering was flung hastily from all memory. He had never seen something so beautiful, yet so forbidden, in his life. You were breathtaking; even when caged below someone like the shit-cook. 

You quickly scrambled beneath Sanji, tapping his shoulder repetitively and warning him with your voice calling up at him. Snapping his eyes up, his gray gaze was met with the descending moss-colored hair as he bobbed beneath the wooden frame and hastily scrambled down the woven rope attached to the mast. 

-

“What is it, Dove? Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” Sanji hastily asked you, drawing up his right palm to collect your cheek. Your eyes were still wide with panic as they met your lover’s, who’s affectionate and concerned gaze immediately melted your heart.

“No, Sweetheart, nothing like that,” you reassured him, pressing a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, “We-... -We had some company, that's all.” Sanji’s eyes widened, looking over to the edge of the crows nest. 

“Who saw-,” he began, halting his words as you confirmed his greatest insecurity.

“Zoro,” you sympathetically confessed. Immediately, Sanji’s cock softened; the mood tinting the air no longer filled with lust and desire at the utterance of his name. Sanji groaned in frustration, looking down to where your bodies once met and noticed the fresh pool of arousal coating your entrance. Perplexed and confused, he continued to look down at your core before looking to seek out your face; noticing you were glancing off to the side of where Zoro was priorly standing.

“And-... And you enjoyed him watching us? Us together?” His question sounded more like a statement, reaching down with his fingertips to pry apart your glistening folds. You gasped at the contact; shame and surprise both falling to you as he drew his fingers away from your entrance and presented to you. 

“Look, Dove! Look how wet you got!” He chuckled, his cock beginning to spring back to life at this small amount of knowledge. “Ohhh,” His taunting voice teased you, a suggestive and playful smile toying with you as he drew his hands up your thighs once more, “Somebody’s got a kink.”

“And you don’t mind-... Truly, Sanji? That this is-...” you trailed off, avoiding the unspoken question. Sanji sighed out a huffed laugh, looking down at you as he repositioned himself above you.

“My darling,” Sanji began, drawing up his hand to swipe a stray hair from your forehead to reveal your concerned face up to him, “I can share, you know. If that’s something you’re interested in, I am capable of playing nice.”

He slowly dragged his throbbing cock back into you, hunching his shoulders and huffing out a panted and strained breath of bliss. You threw your head back as you took in his entire length, body once again stretching to accommodate for his mass. 

“Even if it is with that stupid Moss-Head.” 

-

The second time he caught the two of you, he thought he was safe. It was two hours past midnight; the ship was lulling steadily with the crashing waves meeting the hull. The dull snores protruding from Usopp’s mouth was eclipsed by the growling roar of Luffy’s - both inhibiting the swordsman from acquiring adequate slumber. 

“Fuck this,” he uttered under his breath as he threw his legs over the side of the hammock and began his slow ascension towards the kitchens. Beer, he needed a beer. Perhaps even two. With a sake chaser, even. 

As the door opened, he first didn’t even see your body sitting within the right angle of the corner booth. Your eyes shut, head lulling back as you grasped the wooden table with your knuckles shaded almost white at the firmness of your closed fist. If he didn’t notice you, he surely didn’t notice Sanji beneath the table; with his tongue eagerly lapping your needy and desperate clit and raking his way down to your quaking entrance. 

Heavy thuds of boot covered feet broke you from your trance, Sanji’s tongue halting its movement momentarily as you both held your breath. Still as marble statues, you waited for the sleepless knight protector of the crew to retrieve what he desired and leave the kitchen for your private moment. 

Until you felt Sanji’s smiling lips press a mischievous kiss atop your inner thigh and trail dangerously close to your desperate, twitching and quivering clit. Your eyes widened in panic as Sanji tested a small, kitten lick against the pearled bud; prompting you to bite down hard on your bottom lip to halt a cry of bliss. 

At this muffled sound, Zoro paused his hands as they gripped the glass neck of a brown beer bottle within the refrigerator unit. He knew what was behind him. He could recognise that beautiful muffled melodious cry anywhere. That sound plagued his thoughts, eclipsed his dreams and drew many a fantasy to the forefront of his mind as he chased his own release within his fisted grasp. 

Zoro took in a slow and concentrated breath, retrieving two bottles of beer from the fridge within his right hand and turning towards the scene laid out before him. He completely ignored the fact he could see the matte, leather bottoms of Sanji’s black boots, and focussed solely on your expression.

“Chronicler,” he addressed you, gazing his hazelnut orbs directly into yours. You bit back another cry as Sanji pressed an open-mouthed kiss atop your sensitive nerve.

“S-Swordsman,” you managed to squeak out, hastily bringing your hands below you to attempt to draw Sanji’s face away from you. Sanji caught your wrists in his grasp and pinned them to the chair beside you. 

“You want a beer?” Zoro asked, his brow arching up as he slowly raked his eyes over your face. Your pulse was elevated and physically throbbing against your throat, your jaw clenched tightly shut and breath hitching.

“That sounds wonderful,” you grit your teeth as you attempt to halt Sanji’s lewd actions by closing your thighs around his head. He huffed out a laugh, bullying your legs to remain open as he dove back into making love with you with his tongue. He lapped, kissed and swirled his soft organ against you. Each twirled motion of his tongue had the pleasant scrape of his oral frenulum piercing against your flesh. 

Zoro narrowed his eyes, darting them between your lust-blown orbs. Your lip quivered, a lustful whimper threatening to spill over as Sanji continued flattening his skilled tongue against your clit and labia. Zoro’s jaw hung slack, watching your face attempting to hold back its contortion in bliss with sheer willpower and control alone. In two quick strides, Zoro was at the seat directly across from you and kicked it out with his right foot.

“This seat taken?” He arched his brow up, darkening his eyes at you with his own lust dictated with his blown pupils. 

“Be my guest,” you managed to huff out, fighting with all your might to halt your eyes from rolling back into your skull as Sanji’s firm grip continued to hold your hands in place. The approach of your stuttering climax was approaching dangerously close to the edge; your sanity almost tipping over as Zoro continued to make nonchalant and polite conversation with you.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked you, uncapping both of the beer bottles and placing one in front of you.

“Not y-yet,” you gasped, choking as Sanji began to bob his head with each motion against you. The coil within your abdomen began to twist, your toes and calves numbing and tingling indicating how close your climax was, “You?”

“Somethin’ keepin’ me up,” Zoro nodded, raising the neck of the beer bottle up to his lips and maintaining eye contact with your own. You strained against the desire to rock your hips against Sanji’s face, keeping still your only course of action to remain concealed as to what exactly was occurring below the table. 

“O-Oh?” you quirked your head, a small strained laugh of anxiety falling from your lips as you began to panic at how close you were. 

As Sanji continued to work you up, nuzzling his face against your core and trailing sensual kisses and romancing your glistening folds with his skillful ministrations; all you managed to relay to the swordsman a small strangled apology.

“I-I’m sorry, Z-Zoro,” you whimpered, your eyes filling slightly with embarrassed tears, “S-San-... Sanji!” At that, the coil within the pit of your stomach snapped, your eyes unintentionally closing as your brows furrowed in bliss. Jaw hanging slack, you cried out an unrestrained strangulation of groans and whimpers as you unintentionally rocked yourself against Sanji’s face. Riding your high, the swirl of pressure slowly turned into overstimulation with the fervor to which Sanji continued to dine on your arousal; lapping and cleaning as you gushed on his face. 

As soon as you recovered, you reopened your closed eyes; noticing the concentrated and unwavering expression of the swordsman in front of you. He was hypnotized. He was stuck in a trance, experiencing empathetic pleasure from watching your face contort in bliss as Sanji pleased you. Embarrassment was quickly replaced with shock as Zoro stood from his place against the table and hastily drained the remainder of the beer bottle. 

He placed the empty glass container back down atop the table and stepped over to you. You fought the urge to cower away from him as he claimed your chin within his right thumb and index finger.

“Did you just cum on the cook’s face?” he asked you, face serious and eyes unblinking as he siphoned your post-orgasm honesty from your parted lips.

“Yes,” you confessed breathily, panting and recovering from your prior high. He hummed, looking down his nose at you before hastily stooping down towards you. Bringing his nose almost brushing your own, he circled your face with his own while remaining to firmly grasp your chin within his calloused fingertips.

Zoro smirked, huffing out a breath from his nose and drawing his lips up to press a chaste kiss atop your forehead. You gasped in shock, not expecting such a display of affection from the swordsman. 

“Good girl,” he smirked, releasing your chin and turning to walk away from the two of you. Pausing at the door of the kitchen, he turned to witness Sanji crawling out from beneath the table and drawing his smiling lips up into a cocky smirk.

“You’re an ass,” you whispered your reprimand at the chef, prompting an unrestrained chuckle to fall from his lips gleefully. You hastily drew your hands up and collected the beer Zoro offered you earlier and hastily guzzled down the liquid as a balm for your nerves. 

“Yes,” Sanji confessed to you with a chuckle, “But I’m your ass. And you,” he stepped closer to you, “Oh you. You loved that.”

-

The third time Zoro caught the two of you, you were again in the kitchen. As the Going Merry docked at port; you and Sanji opted to remain behind to keep the ship secure and ensure all stock was listed in full. Nami nodded, accepting that as a viable option for two crewmen to remain behind. Usopp shrugged and uttered words of bringing back tales of their adventures upon their return. Luffy was in too much of a rush to sample the local delicacies to pay any heed to the amount of crewmen remaining behind, his nose and stomach immediately leading him onward in venturing inland.

But Zoro knew better. He knew that as soon as the crew were off on an adventure; the two of you would be tearing off each others clothes and fucking over every inch of undisturbed surface presented - no longer plagued with the confines of remaining quiet to not disturb the slumber nor focus of the crew. 

And that is exactly where he found you, looking deeply into the eyes of your blond lover with a playful smile; one mimicked by the man in front of you. He stood in the doorway as inconspicuous as he could make himself - only to have that illusion shattered by a single call from the blond chef.

“Yo, Moss,” Sanji called over to the door, “You there already?” Zoro did not want to talk to the shit-cook. His cock was straining uncomfortably against the front of his pants, brushing the sensitive tip against his rough pants.

Zoro growled in frustration at him, stepping to fall into the light of the kitchen. Zoro was met with the sight of Sanji hoisting you upwards by your thighs and placing you against the teal benchtop. Your missing bottoms were lying askew with Sanji’s shirt and tie on the floor, as Sanji stood between your legs, fumbling with his belt but otherwise completely bare. Your bra strap hung limply from your shoulder, your breasts remaining perfectly secure within the cups but marked with a litter of kisses trailing up your clavicle to your pulse. 

“You staying for the show?” he teased him, releasing his pretty cock from the confines of his pants and teasing the tip between your folds. Shock and panic was written over your face, unsure of how to react to such a suggestion. 

“You want curbside?” Sanji called over his shoulder at the swordsman, slowly stretching you with his shiny tip; pulsating with the heavy flow of arousal, “Or front row.” 

Immediately, you clutched Sanji’s shoulders and raked your nails along their muscular curvature. Zoro couldn’t look away, your sultry eyes beckoning him to step closer with each slow blink. As Sanji began to pick up the pace of his thrusts, Zoro was pulled closer into the kitchen. 

Closing the door behind him, he, at first, attempted to play his enthusiasm down and made his way over to the sink. His actions halted at the first strangled cry of pleasure being pulled from your throat by the deep thrusts of the chef within your warmth. 

“You can call him over, you know,” Sanji whispered in a voice only audible to you before pressing a chaste kiss on your jaw, “You can even kiss him if you want.” At that small encouragement from your lover, you glanced over to the swordsman standing by the table; his knuckles white as they clutched the countertop.

“Zoro?” You called to him in a hushed whimper, drawing his attention immediately to you. Eyes meeting, he immediately began walking towards you and taking his desired place beside you. Sanji was relentless, not easing up his bullying pace against your entrance. With each thrust, your body quaked and legs shaked with the intensity of your excitement at this new aspect of your relationship. 

Your toes curled as the angular tip of Sanji’s cock brushed with the sensitive upper middle of your walls, stimulating your g-spot and causing you to cry out a strangled whimper of bliss. Snapping quicker, Sanji continued to thrust and propel the both of you to your mutual orgasms - your walls thumping and squeezing his sensitive shaft with each drag within your core.

“You gonna cum?” Zoro asked you, his face dangerously close to yours, “You gonna be a good girl and cum on the cook’s cock?” You whimpered again, nodding in confirmation as Sanji continued to brace you against the countertop. 

Hesitantly, Zoro broke eye contact with you and met Sanji’s eyes; wordlessly asking if it was okay to touch you with a pointed look. Sanji continued thrusting, nodding before placing his forehead against your shoulder and chasing his high. The swordsman drew back his eyes as he collected your cheek within his palm and pressed his forehead against yours. 

“You’re taking his cock so well,” he complimented you, raking his hand down to grasp the back of your neck; the back of his hand almost brushing with Sanji’s cheek as he continued thrusting into you. Sanji reached down and began to stimulate your throbbing clit with circular motions. Your lips hung agape as the peak of your orgasm began to toy at the final barrier - refusing to break until Sanji met his climax. 

“Go on,” Zoro encouraged you, brushing his chapped lips against your open mouth and gave you one final command, “Cum for him. Cum on his cock. I want to hear your pretty sounds as you come undone on his cock.” Zoro drew you in for a long kiss on your forehead, Sanji’s whimpers against your ear indicated he was about to spill his load within you. 

“Oh, Dove-... I-I’m-... I can’t-... hnfmm-...” Sanji’s strangled cries were paired with ropes of thick cum painting your walls with their pearled beads. As soon as his stuttered movements began to frantically chase and thrust, your walls began pulsating as white sparks danced behind your eyes. Zoro broke the kiss, his eyes meeting your own as you screamed past the overstimulation of your electric orgasm. 

“O-Oh, fuck,” Zoro whispered, his precum soaking his pants through his underwear. His cock twitched without stimulation, quivering in empathetic pleasure as it begged for a simple brush of movement. Without thinking, Zoro immediately thrust his hand into his pants, strangling his shiny knob in an attempt to halt his orgasm to no avail. 

His palm was coated with the sticky strings of his orgasm, shuddering as he rode his triggered orgasm against his fist to chase his release. He gyrated into his hand, riding with the same staggered thrusts that Sanji was stimulating you with. Zoro placed a bruising kiss against your forehead as he continued to ride his high into his palm - surprise overcoming the three of you at this unrestrained collective bliss. 

As you all came down from your mutual highs, Sanji removed himself from your arousal coated walls - a pool of mixed fluids leaking from your hole as you all began to regain composure. 

“So,” Sanji began, walking his naked form over to the sink and preparing several elements to clean the mess he created with you, “You like to watch.” Zoro growled, prompting Sanji to laugh in response. 

“I like to watch the chronicler, not you, chef,” Zoro growled, before realizing exactly what he was confessing. Shock overcame you once more. Too tired to care anymore, you turned to the swordsman and placed your hand on his shoulder; turning him to meet your eyes once more. 

“I like you watching us, Zoro,” you confessed with a shy smile. He returned your soft smile, pressing his forehead to yours and sighing down into your face. Sanji turned back around, witnessing his lover press themselves against the knight of the Going Merry. He smiled at the sight, knowing truly how it felt to be loved by you. He was surprised at how much he, too, enjoyed being watched by the swordsman.

Perhaps he enjoyed being watched so much that he might desire to be the one watching next time.

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Darkness

Mark Hoffman x afab!Reader

details: smut, disgusting street men hitting on reader, lots of flirting, mild biting, oral f!receiving, Mark's constant use of "fuck", unprotected sex, cream pie (please wear protection), Mark low-key being into you calling him detective????, kinda possessive Hoffman

word count: 3,550

a/n: me? late to writing a fic i promised months ago? never lmao. requests are open for more Hoffman fics, I am very excited to write for him

~~~

Loud music, too many people talking, and the smell of alcohol overwhelmed your senses.

You sat at the dim lit bar, slumped over the counter spinning the straw in the drink you did not even finish. Your two friends who you had met here earlier in the night had their backs to you. They had gotten comfortable with two strangers at the bar. Flirting with slurred words from a little too much alcohol was the standard with them.

It was deep into the night, anything besides the bar was closed. You decided you were done with the night out. You tapped your friend closest to you, "I'm heading home. Shoot me a text so I know you make it safe." She nodded still entranced by the man in front of her, "Oh-Okay. See ya'." You threw some cash down on the counter and grabbed your bag.

You squinted your eyes at the bright street lamp directly outside of the bar. It was completely black out other than the lights every few feet. Couples attempting casual hookups, people throwing up surrounded by their friends, and other bar dwellers decorated the streets outside. You tried not to look at anyone in particular, but a group of suspicious looking men caught your eye. Eye contact with one of the members was the biggest mistake of the night. You began walking faster down the street, your bag clutched as firm as possible in your hands.

"Oh- Hey, beautiful!" One of the men approached you from behind. Chills of disgust painted up your arms.

"We saw you checking us out. We can help you home~" Another man stepped in front of you under the street lamp.

You tried your hardest to keep walking forward, ignoring them.

"What's the problem, sweetheart? Don't you want some gentlemen to help you out tonight?" A third at your side. You halted under the brightest light you could find as the fourth man joined them. You were surrounded. With no where else to go, you backed into the pole. "I can make it myself," your voice cracked slightly. You were begging, pleading with the universe for some form of an escape from the situation you were in. A lump was forming in your throat, tears beginning to dance at your eyelids. You were scared.

"Don't get shy, sweetheart. We can take care of you tonight."

They were closing in on you. Your mind was racing for a way out. One of them swatted at the bag in your hand, missing the bag but grabbing the strap. You held on with all your might as he pulled. "Just give me the bag, skank!"

The sound of tires behind you made your heart sink. You were sure this was it, they were going to take you off somewhere. Never to be seen again.

"Do you know these guys?" A rugged voice came from the car. You heard the door open and slam, followed by footsteps behind you. The guy in front of you finally released his grip on your bag, his hands throwing up in the air. You stumbled back slightly, bumping into the man from the car as he was directly behind you. His hand went to your shoulder helping you stabilize, "Are you okay?" You nodded with flushed cheeks.

"Listen, we were just trying to help this chick home. No need to get serious," one of the guys spoke.

"Go ahead and crawl back to where you came from before this does get serious," the man from the car spoke sternly, flashing the gun on his hip at them. The entire group ran off into the night.

Your breath you had been holding in finally released. Your hands were shaking ever so slightly. The man stepped in front of you, looking around for any sign of a group you may have been separated from. He finally turned to face you. You felt your face flush with heat at how handsome he was.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing out here all alone this late at night?"

"I just left my friends. I just wanted to get home," your hands rubbed up and down your arms. Your eyes scanned over his entire body. He was obviously a cop of some kind. There was also no ring in site. His broad chest and chiseled face made heat flood your body.

"I can take you home. Miss..?"

"Y/N L/N. And you?"

"Detective Hoffman," he held up his badge for you to see, "But you can call me Mark."

Mark led you to his passenger side, opening the door and helping you in. Walking around the vehicle, he joined you inside. You buckled as the car began off. "Just tell me how to get there," he looked over at you.

The ride was silent. Nothing but the whirring of the cars vents and the occasional bump on the road. Each lamp you passed lit up your face as you stared out the window. Mark's eyes stayed straight on the road, one hand on the wheel the other at his side.

"I forgot to say thank you," you broke the silence. His gaze shot over to you, "It's nothing." You smiled at him slightly.

"So, Detective," you spoke with a tease on your tone, "What kind of cases are you working on?"

"You know I can't disclose that to you," he stared at you momentarily.

"Oh, come on! Homicide detective? In this city? I know you've got something good!"

Mark huffed. The car slowly approached a traffic light. Mark's eyes now could not get off of you.

His eyes examined you fully. He noticed how nonchalant you were being with him, as if you had known each other longer than tonight. Your body and legs leaning towards him showing your trust for him. His gaze wandered down to your exposed thighs. The outfit you had wore was not necessarily revealing, just short around the legs. He had to fight the place his mind wanted to go.

Silence returned to the vehicle. You leaned closer to Mark, "Is there anything I can do to say thank you, Detective?" Your hand flattened against the middle console in an attempt to be closer to him. He rolled his shoulders waiting for the light to change. "O-of course not," he choked, "I am just doing my job."

Mark turned his head to look at you better. Red from the light illuminated both your faces in the dark. You swore you had never seen anyone as handsome in this moment.

Green.

Both of you looked forward at the sudden chance, acting as if the moment you had just shared never happened.

The car came to a halt in front of your apartment building. You stared out the window wishing this car ride could last forever. "Well this is me," you shot a smile over at him. Mark stared at you with hooded eyes. Heat flushed every inch of you.

"Thank you, Detect- Mark... thank you, Mark," you looked at him one last time before starting to open your door. His hand gripped you, "Let me walk you inside so I know you make it safe."

Mark got out of the car and walked around, opening your door for you. He extended his hand to you, helping you out of the car. You mumbled a thanks as you stepped up on the sidewalk. Your heart was racing a million miles a minute. Your body wanted him badly. It longed for more than a simple shoulder touch, or grasp of a hand.

You led him into the elevator of your building. Clicking the button for a silent trip up. The ding of each passing floor rang in your ears. Mark stared up at the numbers as they passed, looking over at you every few seconds between. You both jumped slightly as the door opened abruptly. You showed him down the hall to your door.

"Here we are," you leaned your back up against the door. Mark's eyes silently looked you up and down. His pupils were completely blown, his shoulders heavy, and his chest heaving slightly. He looked around the completely empty hallway, "I'm glad to get you home safe."

"Y-Yeah! I can't thank you enough," you blushed when his eyes met yours again. His lip curled into a sort of smirk seeing you flustered. You felt your entire body rush with heat. You stared down at your feet, almost too embarrassed to look him in the eyes.

"Well. I'm going to head back out. Have a good night, Y/N," Mark began to walk back towards the elevator.

"Mark?"

He turned around quickly to look at you.

"Do you want to come inside?"

Mark's eyes darkened with your question. His eyes darted around momentarily before rushing over to join you. Hands ghosting down your sides as you turn to get your key in the door. His broad chest was pressed firmly against your back. Chills painted every inch of your body, heat rushing straight to your core. His lips pressed against your ear, "I didn't think you were gonna ask."

Your face grew completely red hot, your hands fumbling with your keys. You wanted inside your apartment so bad, but Mark had you flustered and you could not focus. He rested his chin on your shoulder, "What is it, Y/N? I can help you with the keys since you can't focus." His hand snaked up your arm, wrapping itself around yours to steady it. Guiding it into the lock with ease, he turned it for you. "There you go. Good girl," he growled in your ear. You were puddy in his hands.

You opened the door, leading him into the dark apartment. Mark pulled you flush against his chest, his hands going around your waist. The only glow on his face came from the illuminated numbers on the microwave. It lit his eyes beautifully. His breath was hot against you, his eyes staring as heavily into yours as possible.

"You do this with every girl you rescue off the street?" You teased him.

"Do you do this with every man who rescues you late at night?" Mark chuckled, his hands gliding up and down your curves.

You bit your lip, staring heavily into what little of his eyes you could see. "If they all looked as good as you, I probably would," you taunted him.

"Oh, yeah?" Mark's tone was dark. His lips slipped onto your neck. You threw your head back giving him better access. He decorated your skin with sloppy kisses leading up to your ear, "None of them would make you feel as good as I will."

Instant heat. The growl on his tone made your stomach do a flip. You ran your hands up his chest, playing with his tie. He took in a deep breath, his chest tightening with your touch. Hands gripped your ass tight, pulling you flush against his hard member in his pants. A quiver of a breath escaped you.

Mark crashed his lips into yours suddenly. Sloppy, tongue filled kisses were shared between you. You took his lower lip between your teeth lightly. A gruff "fuck" escaped him. One of his hands went to your hair, forcing your lips as close to his as possible. You were on each other like wild animals; two people who were forced to be apart almost.

Mark grabbed your hand, placing it against the front of his pants. "You've got me fucking worked up, pretty girl," he growled in your ear. You were breathless. Your hand began feeling his member, stroking him to the best of your ability. Mark's breathing kicked up, his shoulders heaved with each breath. A smile creeped upon your face seeing him so caught up with you.

"Keep grinning and I'll fuck you on the floor," Mark huffed at you.

Your entire body was overheating. You wanted him. You needed him.

Your hand released from his member, getting a dissatisfied growl from him. Your fingers toyed with the waist of his pants. Mark tilted his head slightly, staring at you. He could feel you much better than he could see you. His eyes had adjusted, but it was still too dark to make out finer details. You dipped the tips of your fingers down into his pants. Tight belt against his waist stopping your fingers from going past. You could feel the liner of his underwear now, playing with the waistband. Mark heaved a breath feeling your fingers against his skin. Your eyes stared up at him now, your other hand dipping under his overcoat that still decorated his body. Fingers finding his suspender, feeling it all the way down.

Mark's finger went under yours chin, redirecting your attention to his face. He placed a more tender kiss on your lips. Tenderness turned into neediness quickly. The sloppiness from before returned, both of his hands went to your face. His body pushed you into the back of the door. Mark began removing his overcoat, never removing his lips from yours. He threw it into the darkness behind him, his hands returning to your face. Heavy breaths escaped between kisses. Your hands went to each suspender attempting to remove them from his shoulders. He pulled his hands through, desperate for the clothes that he wore to be removed. Hands tugging at the tie around his neck as if it was suddenly choking him.

Mark flipped you around quickly, kisses sloppily being placed on the back of your neck as he attempted to unzip your dress. You shimmied yourself out of it as Mark's hands desperately tugged it down your body. He spun you back around, his lips instantly going to the exposed part of your breast. Hunger painted his figure, teeth digging into your skin. You threw your head back against the door. Blindly, your hands searched his chest for the buttons to his shirt. Mark's hands explored your body as his mouth focused on your chest. Large hands gripped your bare ass.

Two of Mark's fingers felt your wet pussy through your panties. You arched your back into him, getting an amused chuckle from him. "I can't wait to feel you around me as I fuck you," he kissed your cheek.

"Please, Mark," you begged.

Mark pulled back from you, staring down at you. You could see him smile in the dark, "Please, what?"

He was taunting you slightly, wanting you to beg for it.

"Please- fuck me, Mark," you pleaded.

"That's what I thought," Mark kissed you.

He backed away wanting you to lead him to your bedroom. You grabbed him by the wrist, leading him through the darkness to an even darker room. Mark walked slowly, trying to follow your lead around the room. Completely unable to see, he did not move too much. You grabbed both his wrists, pulling him along with you as you slowly sat onto the bed. He kissed you, leaning you down onto the mattress. His kisses ventured down your body, stopping right above your panty-line.

Mark's fingers toyed with the band of your panties, teasing you. You arched your hips up in an attempt to make him do something, a whine escaping you.

"You're so fucking needy," he growled against your skin, following it with a kiss. He pulled your panties down off your legs, the air hitting your slick opening. Mark was directly in front of your need now. One of his fingers dipped into you pulling a moan from your throat. It was so sudden. "Fuck, you're so tight," he growled, his hot breath hitting your exposure. He pumped his finger in and out of you slowly. Shockwaves went through every inch of you. He pulled his finger out, you cried out.

"Christ, you're soaked," he chuckled with satisfaction. That same finger was suddenly pressed firmly against your throbbing clit. You called out his name. He joined you face to face, panting above you as his finger still circled your sensitivity. Your mouth was hung open as if you could not catch your breath. Your hands ran up his chest, you had only unbuttoned the top button with your attempt earlier. Hands played with the small patch of exposed chest hair. You could see his teeth glaring down at you, eyes heavy and dark. You began unbuttoning his shirt further, you wanted to see as much of him as possible. Broad chest decorated with a light amount of hair was hiding under the tightly buttoned shirt. You felt him from as far as your hands could reach down to his neck. Hands resting on his cheeks, you leaned up placing a kiss on him. Lightning was shooting through your body as his circles harshened.

"I'm not gonna let you cum just yet," Mark abruptly removed his finger. You whined and arched your back. "Do you want me to fuck you?" his tone toyed with you. He sat on his knees now, pulling his shirt the rest of the way off. His hands removed his belt with haste.

"Yes, Mark," you swallowed.

He pulled his hard member from his pants. It sprung up, hitting him in the stomach slightly. It's almost as if you could feel your mouth run dry. Hands went to both sides of your body, his nose brushing against yours. You could feel him fighting the pants off his legs. His cock played at your opening, rubbing against your slick. Your chest was heaving with anticipation.

Mark grabbed his cock by the base, lining it up with your opening. He sheathed himself inside you, pulling a moan from both of you. His body fell into you slightly, your breasts pressing against his bare chest. He idled momentarily, bathing in this feeling.

"Fuck, I have never felt a pussy this good," his jaw hung open. Slowly, he picked up the pace. Pulling himself almost completely out before ramming back in. He rested his forehead against yours. You exchanged heavy and hot air. Rhythmically he pumped himself into you.

You wrapped your arms around him, running your nails down his bare back. His lips rested against your ear as his body fell flush with yours, "Yeah? Never been fucked this good, have you?" You could only moan in response. "That's right. And you'll never be fucked this good by anyone else," he growled. Partially claiming ownership over you now, but knowing if this never went further he would be the best fuck of your life.

Your walls began pulsing around him as your orgasm approached. After the tension he had put on your clit, your body was ready to unwind.

"Better not cum before I make you cum," Mark snarled against your neck.

You stared up in the darkness. Focusing, trying your hardest to fight the sensation coming over you while still enjoying his cock inside you. Mark's motions became more aggressive as he felt you pulse. Your chest was growing tight as you took in air rapidly.

"Detective," that slipped out, "Please I want to cum."

Mark sat up slightly, looking into your desperate eyes. "Detective?" you could see his mouth curve into a grin when he realized what you said.

Sitting up fully and throwing your legs over his shoulders, Mark began to fuck you fast and hard. "Want Detective Hoffman to make you cum? Gonna cum all over his cock are you, you dirty girl," Mark teased through his teeth. He passed one of your legs to join the other in one hand as his finger returned to your clit. The sound of skin smacking together along with loud moans from you filled the dark room.

The knot in your stomach was building, you could feel the bottoms of your feet growing warm as your orgasm approached. "Mark, I-I'm gon-gonna cum," you threw your head back into the pillow.

"That's right you are. Cum for me," Mark gritted, his hair falling loosely in his face. You felt your walls tighten and the knot come unraveled in you. Walls fluttered around his cock as your orgasm washed over you. Your back arched off the bed, deepening his cock inside you. "Good girl, fuck," Mark sped up his motions, his orgasm not far behind. He laid your legs back, falling back into his previous position, fucking you harder than he had. Lips crashed into yours, his tongue venturing into your mouth. "You're my girl now. Mine, mine, mine," he growled into your mouth. His motions steadied as he shot inside you. Thick ropes painted your inside, Mark forcing his way as deep in you as possible. Your body was shaking with pleasure.

Mark's body fell on top of yours, heaving breathing coming from him. "Fuck," he mumbled against your skin. You ran your hand up and down his back, petting him slightly. It's as if you both were still catching your breath.

Mark rolled off of you, pulling his cock out with him. He pulled you tightly to his side, placing a kiss on your head. You rested your head on his chest. Your finger ran through his body hair.

That same silence from the car ride returned now. There really was not much to say.

You were happy he was the one who rescued you tonight.

~~~

END

[Thank you for reading!  If you are interested in being tagging in any of my writings don’t be afraid to message me!  All tag lists are open!  I have a master taglist and one for each character!]

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@sleepybunnybobby |

[sserpente]

The Devil's Prized Possession

Synopsis: You are Raphael's warlock and tasked with the most difficult mission: Retrieve the Crown of Karsus from the clutches of Enver Gortash. Remember, Raphael does not take kindly to failure. But do him proud and he will reward you for your troubles. As it turns out, he's been particularly eager to introduce you to a certain Incubus for a while now...

A/N: During my 5th run doing the House of Hope I had the most devilish and filthiest idea for a Raphael fic…so here we go! ;)

Words: 3637 Warnings: smut, smut, smut, blood, injuries, violence, voyeurism/exhibitionism, mentions of suicide and rape (past events), and um… incubus?

“My, my…look at how diligent my little warlock has become.”

You breathed out, the grip around your dagger loosening. You were covered in sweat, your damp training clothes sticking to you like a second skin. There was a mirror in the corner a few feet away from where you’d put the training dummy—a straw sack dressed in leather armour. Your cheeks were flushed, your hair greasy. In short, you were in no way presentable to receive your devilish patron.

You flipped around, facing Raphael with his hands clasped behind his back and a sly smile on his lips.

“Do you ever use doors? And knock? Like a normal person?”

“Oh but I am far from a normal person, am I not?”

You sighed. “I remember. That’s how I ended up in this situation in the first place. Why are you here?”

“Why am I here? Can a devil not check in on his little…protégée?”

You scoffed. “Come now, Raphael. I know you better than that. What do you want?”

“Very well. Let us cut to the chase. I have a mission for you.”

“A mission?” You frowned, removing the gloves you had been wearing to protect your knuckles. “For me? Does Korilla have annual leave?” you joked.

“I did not ask Korilla, I am asking you.”

You crossed your arms before your chest when he stalked closer, his eyes fixed on your form, observing every little movement you made. “Running errands for you was not part of our deal, Raphael.”

“Then perhaps you will be interested if I tell you what’s in it for you?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“Why, power, of course, my dear. What do you know of the crown of Karsus?”

Power? To hunt down the remaining thugs who’d stolen your life? “I’m listening.”

He followed you over to your small kitchen area. You kept some good wine hidden away in a cupboard for the sole purpose of his visits. Your life in Baldur’s Gate wasn’t exactly a luxurious one. When Raphael stepped into your life and you became a Warlock to take revenge on your family’s murderers and your rapist, he’d saved you from a dark pit you feared you’d never be able to get out of. You’d been close to suicide when he found you and offered you a way out. You didn’t regret it, didn’t regret the power his devilish abilities trickled into your very blood to give you abilities beyond your comprehension. Raphael was the reason you were still alive. All he had asked for in return was your soul—forever a guest in his House of Hope.

Raphael sat down at your mangled table. If he was disgusted by the leftovers of your breakfast and the dirty dishes, he hid it well.

You poured him a glass and set it before him on the wooden surface before sitting down opposite him.

“I assume you know the story of Karsus?”

You nodded. “Who doesn’t?”

“Then you’ll know what a powerful artefact the crown is. And I want it.”

“Well, where is it right now?” you asked, seemingly unaffected by his words. You knew better than to question him. You didn’t give a shit about this world anymore. If he decided to take over, at least you knew he’d make the sinners suffer, simply by seducing them into agreeing to a deal with him that they could not refuse.

“It was stolen, my dear. Stolen by someone you know all too well. It was our self-proclaimed saviour of Baldur’s Gate, Lord Enver Gortash. I hear he is up for archduke now.”

You frowned. “Why would Gortash steal the crown of Karsus?”

“Why would anyone? The crown in the hands of this Banite tyrant will bring ruin to the city, to the whole of Faerûn. I intend to save it. I want the crown,” he repeated.

“Wait. Did you say Banite? Enver Gortash is a Banite? Really?”

“The crown, dear. We were talking about the crown.”

“Alright, alright. So what do you want me to do?”

“Oh, it’s quite simple, actually.” He leaned back and smirked. “I want you to retrieve it for me.”

“And steal from the future archduke?”

“You are skilled in stealth. You will find a way.”

“Why me? Why not Korilla?”

“Korilla has been tasked with…some other business of mine.”

You blinked, considering his offer. “I still fail to see what’s in it for me.”

“The crown of Karsus will allow me to become the archdevil supreme. The most powerful devil in existence. Legions will bow to me and follow my command and the hells…will be mine. And you shall become the most powerful warlock any devil has ever taken under their wing.”

“Those were a lot of ‘most powerfuls’ in one sentence. But fine. I bite.”

“Excellent.” He waved his hand and out of a mist of smoke and sparks, a roll of parchment appeared. “Here is all you need to know to infiltrate Wyrm’s Rock. I expect results within a fortnight. Do not disappoint me, little mouse.”

He was gone before you could respond, his glass of wine left untouched.

Stupid, handsome devil. Stupid, stupid Banites! You should never have agreed to this. How could you have known that they would start a bloody cult directly at Wyrm’s Rock? Who could have known that they would, instead of questioning you, send you to the prisons to have you executed the next day? Raphael. Raphael could have known. You scoffed. That damn devil. He’d never elaborated on the consequences if you failed but knowing him, it couldn’t be good.

But then again…you’d already promised him your soul in return for your powers, so what else could he possibly take from you now? You were of little use as a lemur, after all.

If you ever made it out of here, at least you wouldn’t return completely empty-handed, you thought, as you played with the loose straws of hey on the dirty ground. You’d found out a great deal about Gortash’s plans. And he wasn’t operating alone, either. He had both the Chosen of Bhaal and the Chosen of Myrkul by his side.

You’d always known Gortash to be a bit shady but this form of evil was on another level entirely, even for him. An Elder Brain? Frozen ceromorphosis? An Illithid empire with him on top? You shook your head.

It was just then that sparks of hellfire danced through the cell. Smoke erupted in the corner, the smell of sulphur filling the stale air; and yet, despite the discomfort this very circumstance should have brought you, you felt relief flooding your body.

“My, my, what a predicament you have gotten yourself into here.”

“Raphael! Thank the gods… get me out of here, please!”

He truly was a sight to behold—hope, ironically, given your current predicament.

“Come. We have much to discuss.”

You stood, patting the dirt and the dust from your clothes. A sliver of hesitation wrapped its icy claw around your heart as you took the hand he offered and teleported you to safety. But wherever he took you…it was not your home.

“Where are we?” You peeked around, taking in your lavish surroundings. Imposing statues of devils—of Raphael himself—towered up into the air, marble pillars holding a high ceiling. Everything in here had been placed in the right spot with the utmost care, carefully chosen by Raphael himself, even the bottle of finely aged wine and the silver chalice next to it on the small table in front of a luxurious armchair by the fireplace.

The chimney was lit and spreading warmth. This…this was…

“The House of Hope,” Raphael finished your thought.

“I’m in the hells?”

“Indeed you are, my dear. Now. Have a seat. And tell me what happened.”

You did as you were told—there was little to no reason for you to resist or fall to your knees to beg him for his forgiveness. Not yet, anyway.

Raphael sat down in the armchair opposite you.

“You are…surprisingly calm,” you said.

“Should I not be?”

“Well…I failed you. Your mission. Aren’t you going to roast me over eternal hellfire?”

“You did fail. Except you did not.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

“I knew that retrieving that crown was going to be no easy feat. I knew Gortash was a force not to be underestimated. You merely needed the motivation to try. So tell me. What were you able to find out?”

You blinked. You were…forgiven? By Raphael himself? Confused and still a little hesitant, you told him everything you had learned—including where his precious Crown of Karsus was right now.

“Hmm…hmm…”

He looked away and said nothing else for a while but who were you to interrupt his devilish thoughts?

“That indeed changes the game…I will need time to accommodate to these…circumstances, shall we say.”

“So…am I dismissed?”

Finally, Raphael’s gaze found yours again. His smirk burned hot in your veins, setting the power he fed you with ablaze. Damn that warlock connection.

“You are. You provided me with everything I needed to know about the crown’s whereabouts. About Gortash’s plan, the dead three, and the Elder Brain. You did well.”

You tilted your head. “No punishment? No ‘your soul will burn in eternal hellfire for failing me’?”

A pause. And then, his smirk grew even wider. “No.”

“Okay…um…thank you. So…how do I get back home?”

“You don’t.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“As of right now, you are a wanted criminal and a traitor to Baldur’s Gate. The Banites will long have infiltrated your home. It would be suicide to return just yet.”

Shit. He had a point. “But…where am I supposed to go then?”

“Why, you will stay here, of course, in my House of Hope.”

“You…you want me to stay here…in the hells…with you?”

“Now, now, I will be very busy. Do not expect me to entertain you, little mouse.”

You bit your lower lip. You despised his nickname for you…except you didn’t—and neither did, apparently, your nether regions.

“But for now…” he continued, looking you up and down as if deep in thought all of a sudden. “Let me show you around. I believe you deserve a reward for all your hard work. You can freshen up in my boudoir, wash the dirt from your skin. You will most certainly enjoy what awaits you there.”

You didn’t like his tone when he said that. Not at all. Expect you loved it. There was something sensual about Raphael’s voice—the devil loved to listen to himself talk but of course, that was nothing new. You’d grown to like his ways, his attitude, even his arrogance. After all, he was the very reason for your powers.

Raphael led you through a long and empty corridor, safe for the souls who had been unfortunate enough to strike a deal with him. If this was his way of showing you what awaited you once you perished…you swallowed thickly, your stomach churning.

“Oh…oh…oh…you will be so much fun to watch!” The soul who spoke to you had wide eyes and she was visibly…aroused. Perhaps at this point, your alarm bells should have been ringing. Whatever Raphael’s plans were…whatever awaited you in the boudoir…

“I gave them exactly what they asked for, little mouse,” Raphael said, his hand finding the small of your back. “Don’t worry. The fate you promised me will be much less hopeless and sufferable.”

You stepped through what resembled a portal—an arcane lock, you realised—keeping unwanted visitors out. Cool magic grazed your skin, and then you faced a vast pool with two running faucets on either end. Cushions, wine, delicacies, and even books formed a wreath around the pool, along the wall there were several wardrobes you assumed contained fresh clothes and towels. There was another area behind the pool, one that was barely visible from where you were standing. Still, you could make out the wooden posts and the luxurious fabric of a king-size bed.

“Please… step inside. Help yourself to some fruit and some wine.”

You hesitated—again. But this time it was because of a strange stab of excitement in your stomach.

Eventually, you stepped forward and took off your boots. Raphael, however, made no move to leave. Instead, he stalked over to a lush sofa in front of a high window and sat down with his legs spread wide as if he owned the place. Well. He did.

What was his plan? Was he going to watch you? You knew better than to object. You had no problem with nudity, although it was a little strange Raphael would want to watch you bathe.

With a sigh—if anything to shake off the nervousness eating away at your insides—you began to undress until not a single layer of fabric remained.

Your patron’s eyes followed your every move as you stepped into the pool, taking in every single inch of your exposed skin. It was…pleasant. The water was just right and as it wrapped around your limbs to clean it, it felt…soft.

You moved to the middle of the pool, submerging yourself until the water reached your collarbones. The bruises and cuts you had taken with you from this mission all but shrunk and disappeared, leaving behind healthy and unmarred skin. Restoration faucets…no wonder Raphael always looked so impeccable and untouched.

The relief was like a balm for your body. Your aches disappeared, the exhaustion draining from your core. You were about to close your eyes when all of a sudden, a tall figure appeared above you. A gust of wind tore through your hair. You looked up, discovering bat-like wings keeping a red-skinned figure in the air with its arms crossed, a sly smirk on its—his lips.

The demon, an Incubus, you recognised quickly, was the spitting image of Raphael.

“Hello, little mouse.” Fuck. He sounded like him too. “Is that your little warlock?” he asked. You were very well aware he wasn’t talking to you, yet all you could do was stare at him with wide eyes and your jaw dropped.

“Isn’t she a fine specimen?” Raphael bragged.

“She is indeed.” The incubus lowered himself down until his bare feet touched the carpeted floor, his eyes, identical to Raphael’s, never leaving your form. You were frozen in place. Meeting an incubus in the flesh was quite a remarkable experience—but also potentially dangerous. What did your patron have in mind? To show you off? You gasped for air. He’d promised you a ‘reward’. He couldn’t have been referring to…

“My name is Harleep,” the incubus purred as he flew closer. The faint smell of sulphur hit your nostrils. Every instinct inside of you screamed for you to get out, to save yourself…yet a very depraved and filthy part of you was begging you to stay to see what would happen. What could happen.

You told him your own name and he gave a toothless grin. “Such a pretty little mouse…what do you say? Should we make you feel good? I take it Raphael has brought you here because you’ve been a very, very good girl.”

You lower regions clenched. Fuck. Why did this excite you so much? It shouldn’t. And yet, you found yourself nodding. “I…I think so?”

Raphael chuckled. “I was hoping you’d say yes. Harleep is a very…thorough lover. And I do admit, after all of our time spent together, I am rather curious as to what it would be like to claim you.”

Oh. Oh. He…oh gods. If there was one thing you knew about Raphael it was that he was quite possibly the most narcissistic and self-absorbed devil in the nine hells. It was beneath him to mingle with anyone who didn’t live up to his standards—and the only one who did, apparently, was himself.

You actually had to bite back a laugh when you realised. Raphael had made Harleep take his form because he wouldn’t fuck anyone but himself. And now…he wanted to watch Harleep fuck you. You would be lying if you said you didn’t find the thought intriguing. It had been ages since you’d last had sex, besides, receiving pleasure from an incubus? There was nothing else like it. Should you give in?

“My…such a shy little mouse…” Harleep’s hand came up to stroke your cheek as you stood there in the water, naked and dumbfounded. It slid down the side of your face, over your neck, your shoulders, and your arm until he was able to intertwine his fingers with yours and gently pull you with him.

And just like that…all of your remaining resistance, any doubts and fears…faded away. Harleep snapped his fingers to dry your skin and had you sprawl out on the huge king-size bed. The bed sheets were soft, silk, or satin as you sank into the mattress and rested your head on the pillow. The Incubus crawled over you in an almost predatory manner, Raphael following suit behind him. He pulled up a chair and poured himself a glass of wine, his mischievous eyes glistening with curiosity and desire.

Oh gods…he really was going to do this, wasn’t he? This was going to happen. He was going to watch Harleep fuck you right before his eyes.

You breathed out when Harleep grabbed your knees and spread your legs for him to position himself between them. You glanced down, eyes widening a little at his size. He was as hard as a rock, his red skin almost glowing in the orange light of the hells. Feeling him inside you…all of a sudden, there was nothing else you wanted in this world any more than this, any more than him.

He already was fucking with your mind then…Incubi had an uncanny ability to charm their victims before they devoured them entirely. But surely, Raphael wouldn’t let him go this far…would he?

Harleep’s tip pressed against your entrance and you realised in shock that you were dripping wet. Your pussy was throbbing, eager to take a cock and ease the growing arousal he was making you feel.

“Now…let us see how you taste, little mouse.” Harleep buried himself inside you to the hilt without any forewarning, meeting no resistance from your wanton body. A gasp escaped your lips as he claimed you, causing Raphael to chuckle as he twirled the red wine in his chalice before taking a sip.

“Hmm…like a lush and ripe fruit, juicy and ready to be plucked…” the incubus raved.

Was that really how you tasted to a sex demon? You couldn’t talk, couldn’t think… You bit your lower lip, digging your nails into the sheets as Harleep began to move inside you, withdrawing almost entirely only to plunge himself back in and fuck you slowly and intimately as if to savour your body.

Your breathing grew heavier, your arousal climbing even higher. Every single thrust was an ode to an impending orgasm. It was pleasure like you had never experienced it before. Nothing else mattered anymore. Whatever Harleep was doing, whatever his superpower was…it was working. Penetrative sex alone never did the trick for you—but with him, you’d been on the brink of climax from the very moment he’d sheathed himself inside of you.

Raphael chuckled and your head fell to the side. His gaze lingered on your joined bodies, taking in your bouncing breasts and Harleep’s powerful strokes, his cock disappearing into your wet warmth over and over again. He looked…fascinated—and you couldn’t help but let it fuel your carnal desire to drown in a whirlwind of lust.

Harleep joined in on the devil’s chuckle. “Keep going, little mouse. I can feel you tightening around me. You want to come so badly, don’t you?”

You bit your lower lip harder, almost drawing blood. Forcing your eyes back on Harleep, you nodded eagerly.

“Then come, little mouse. Show us how much you are enjoying this.”

It was all you wanted to hear, all you needed to hear. You fell apart beneath him on the bed, the delicious knot in your stomach unbound. Your walls contracted around Harleep’s cock who did not relent, fucking you through your orgasm until you turned into a whimpering mess.

The pleasure cursed through you like pure electricity, your mind shutting off. You were his…his for the taking, his to feed on, his to do with you as he pleased, forever…

“Now, now, Harleep. Don’t forget your manners.”

The incubus chuckled and with a start, as the last remaining weaves of bliss ebbed away, you woke up. Harleep dug his nails into your hips, lifting them off the bed to bury himself even deeper. He fucked you hard and fast now, ready to take his own relief.

“Do not come inside of her,” you heard Raphael say. His tone allowed no contraction.

You threw your head back, enjoying every single luscious thrust until Harleep stilled and pulled out, one of his hands wrapping around his length to finish himself off.

Ropes of his seed landed on the clean bed sheets between your legs, staining the pretty fabric. You were panting, fighting for your sanity when part of you didn’t even want it back.

“My, my…what a show.”

You half-expected Raphael to clap. Instead, he only chuckled again and got up from his seat. You couldn’t help it—you glanced down, noticing the considerable bulge in his trousers.

“Join me for dinner once you’ve recovered. You must be famished, my dear.”

With that, he left, leaving you behind with a seemingly out-of-breath Incubus who was still drinking in your essence, your arousal. He seemed…satiated. Amused, even.

Fuck. You’d need that restoration faucet again before you could even consider having supper with the very devil you had promised your soul to.

[gingernut1314]

Demons and Claws

Roronoa Zoro x GN!Reader

Summary: Nightmares have been plaguing your dreams night after night. You can't sleep. Not in the silence. Not in the dark. You can only think of one person in your fear who can put you at ease and you go running for him.

Warnings: fluff, mild anime spoilers (Chopper mentioned)

Word Count: 1.7K

A/N: I am flabbergasted I was able to write this as short as it is--cause Oof can I go on and on, buuutt here we are! 😂 I hope you all enjoy!! 🩷

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You started awake, sweat coating your skin and sheets a tangled mess around your legs. 

A dream. It has just been a dream. Is what you tried telling yourself. What you told yourself as you yanked and pulled the sheets back over yourself tight, tucking them just under your chin.

A demon’s face. Bloody screaming and crying. The undead. Your friends turning their backs on you. 

It had been more than some dream--it had been a nightmare. A mix of all your worst nightmares mixed into one. Nightmares you had started having more often after joining Luffy’s crew. 

After seeing your nightmares come to life--seeing that they were living realities that existed in your world.

Nami, whose bed lay just across the way from yours, murmured in her sleep, rolling over onto her other side. It broke through the deafening silence of your shared quarters like some blessing, but as soon as she settled back in, that silence surrounded you again. 

Silence like the tomb. Like the dead. 

Your nightmares flashed through your eyes again and you shoved yourself upright, chest heaving up and down as fear crawled its way into her heart. 

Too dark. It was too dark in this room. Too hot and too quiet.

Did something just move in the corner? No. That was just Nami’s treasure chest. A figure standing by the stairs? No. Just the lamp.

A loud noise sounded through the room. A sound that had you clutching at your sheets tighter at its sudden echo.

Snoring. It was just one of the boy's obnoxiously loud snores piercing through the walls of the Merry. 

Your mind thought over the collection of bodies stuffed into the room just next to yours. Your captain must have been the one whose snore was monstrous enough to filter into your room, having found he was the most notorious snorer. 

It couldn’t have been Sanji’s or Choppers, both of their snores too breathy to ever truly reach you. Usopp was the next runner-up, his snores nasally with a tendency to get stuck in his throat. 

Zoro’s snores were loud and chest-rumbling, but this particular snore, which shook through your room once more, was definitely your captain's. 

And though it was your captain’s snore, you thought of the green-haired swordsmen. Of how you had found him a month ago wandering around in the backyard of your home looking for the docks, which had been miles away. He had been very adamant about not being lost, though he hadn’t denied your offer to show him the way. 

He was a man of little words, but his humor had been dry and you couldn’t help but laugh--to gravitate towards him.

The docks had been a mess when you two finally made it there. A mess of pirates looking to raid your home and to kill off Zoro’s own crew. He had taken them on with ease--protected you against them, though your being with him had only brought the first of your nightmares to reality. 

By the time you had helped fend off the pirates from invading your island alongside the Straw Hats, your home had been burned to nothing but ash by one of the pirates who had slipped away. 

And despite the rest of the Straw Hats being wonderfully supportive, Zoro had been the one who had been by your side every step of the way. Had sat with you while you cried for your losses. Had taught you a special way of remembering and respecting the dead, which you two partook on the dawn of each week. 

Your room fell silent once more. A silence that had your eyes scanning over the room for every last little monster that could be lurking in the darkness. 

Zoro fought by your side--kept you from harm's way and he was the only one you could think of to run to when the demons and shadows came calling for you. 

With a mighty breath in and out, you hopped out of bed, feet running over the soft, robin’s egg blue carpet that lay over the floor, shifting to polished hardwood just before the stairs. You rushed up them, feeling as if clawed hands were just inches away from grabbing you around your ankles and yanking you right back into the darkness you were fleeing. 

You burst out of the door, shutting it behind you as quietly as you could so as to not wake Nami up. 

The storage room was just as dark--just as threatening and you rushed for the door that led into the kitchen. 

Though moonlight shone through the four, arching windows, illuminating the space dimly, you still felt those clawed hands reaching for you. Hands that sent you rushing once more out of the kitchen and onto the deck. Chilled, salty sea air hit your nose as you crossed the course floor, all but lunging for the hatch just next to the mast. 

You flung it open, taking your time to carefully find your footing on the ladder that was built into the mast, which continued downward into the belly of the Merry.

Descending downward, you were met with more darkness, though a small night light had been set up, giving off enough light for you to see around. You seemed to remember the boys arguing with Usopp about it’s being there, but you weren’t quite sure of its true origins.

The air was never once still as you silently hopped to the polished floor, snores of all kinds filling your ears. 

The boy's room was cramped. There was no better word to describe it. 

The small room had been fitted with two couches and a table you didn’t think the boys truly needed. Swinging in the far corner, layered on top of each other like sardines, lay the fast-asleep men of your crew. 

As you grew closer, the louder the snores grew and the less you could think about the nightmares that had chased you out of your bed in the first place. 

The first row of boys, closest to the far sitting couch, was made up of three hammocks. Chopper, being the smallest, lay in the top hammock, snoozing away like the precious angel he was. Next was Zoro, who slept with his hands behind his neck and his ankles crossed over each other. And below him lay Sanji, whose long limbs spilled out over the horrible, near burlap sack-like material that made up their hammocks. 

You made a mental note to make them all some proper hammocks as soon as you got supplies from the next island you all landed on. 

As carefully as you could, you climbed up onto the fine, blue fabric of the couch and walked over it so you could stand next to Zoro’s hammock. You looked him over. Looked over his is peaceful features--his slack jaw, which rumbling snores fell from and his sleep-tousled hair.

Carefully, as if approaching a rabid dog, you gently laid a hand on his hard-earned bicep and gave the swordsman a firm shake. 

“Zoro.” You called on a tone just above a whisper. When he didn’t stir right away, you shook him a bit more harshly, his name falling from your lips in the same manner.

“What the hell--” He began on a hiss, but when his dark eyes snapped open to find you standing there, he huffed out a heavy breath. “...can I help you?” He asked, his voice rougher and deeper from the sleep you had just pulled him from.

“I…” You started, biting your tongue from finishing your thought. You felt yourself grow embarrassed. Embarrassed that you had run all the way down here. Embarrassed that you had woken Zoro up from his deep sleep which he needed. 

It was childish really. You couldn’t handle a silly little dream? You were a grown adult. You could deal with it yourself.

A demon's face. Bloody screaming and crying. The undead. Wicked, clawed hands. Your friends turning their backs on you. Your family’s death--

“I had a nightmare.” You breathed, your voice wavering the slightest bit. Zoro blinked at you. A long blink that looked as if he was slowly thinking over your words.

“...okay.” He said after what felt like an hour had passed you by. 

“Zoro.” You huffed, annoyed at his absent-mindedness. 

“What?” He asked, equally as annoyed. Asked a little too loud for your liking. You shushed him, placing a finger over his lips which he only swatted away, ever the more irritated. “I don’t know what you want me to do about it.” 

“You’re insufferable.” You whispered harshly, eyes narrowed down at him. “This was a mistake.” But before you could make your way back over the too-nice fabric of the couch you stood on, Zoro grabbed your wrist. 

“You know I’m not a mind reader.” He said, his voice growing softer as he pulled you back in. Your body, despite you wanting to still be huffy and puffy with him, relaxed against his strong hold. “Just tell me what you want me to do about it.” 

“I just thought…I think I would sleep better in here.” Zoro watched you for a moment, dark brown eyes scanning over your face carefully as if to catch anything he might be missing.

“Like on the floor?” You huffed and Zoro rolled his eyes. “Where then?” 

“You’re going to say no.” You went to pull your hand from his grip but he held firm. 

“Just say it already.” He urged you, that annoyance filtering back into his voice. 

“Can I sleep in your hammock--with you? Please.” You blurted out before you could think too much about it again, “You make me feel safe.” 

A sharp yelp escaped your lips as Zoro reached over, grabbed you around the waist, and hosted you up into his hammock. 

You heard Chopper stir above you, but soon his soft snores fluttered from his nose once more. 

Zoro tucked you into his side, wrapping you up in his strong arms and resting his chin on the crest of your head, a deep breath escaping his nose. 

“Next time, just say that first. Could have been back asleep by now.” He grumbled, his voice evening out as sleep slowly fell over him for the second time that night. You nestled deeper into his broad, scarred chest, feeling instantly at ease in his arms. Feeling safe--protected from the demons waiting in the darkness for you. 

“Thank you.” You whispered, brushing your fingers over the warm skin of his side.

“Whatever. Go to sleep.” You did as you were told, letting the rock of the sea, the chorus of snores, and Zoro’s strong presence lull you back to sleep.

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