#beside the dancing sea

[omgkatsudonplease]

For the title game! "Forever is Composed of Nows" (one of my favorite Emily Dickinsons) - actually damn that's a sick fic title maybe I should have hoarded that one.

funnily enough, I did actually have bits and pieces of a thing for Viktor's 30th in BTDS-verse that might fit that poem!

Viktor Nikiforov wakes alone on his birthday.

It’s not an unusual thing this time, not with the pearl lying like a talisman on his nightstand table. A promise, given by a harbour seal shortly before going out to sea for three weeks. I will be back, my love, Yuuri had written in a note that Viktor only discovered the day after he left. I hope you can remain strong in my absence.

It’s a testament to the work they’ve both done during these past two years that Viktor can readily think yes, I can remain strong, as he places the note on their fridge to smile at every night as he waits.

Because their busy schedules had demanded almost back-to-back book tours with very little time to breathe in between, Yuuri had not been able to change for almost a month. The sea demanded an equivalent exchange of time to those who could not answer its call, which meant these past three weeks were the longest they’d been apart since their first separation. 

Viktor has spent those weeks fervently checking the Harbour Watch to make sure no orcas or sharks have been predating on the local seal population, has planned and replanned Yuuri’s welcome back dinner, has fiddled with the ring around his neck so often that Phichit had changed his nickname in the group chat to ‘Frodo’.

Viktor doesn’t care, though. This time, he knows Yuuri will return. The pearl by his bedside is faith enough.

Still, it doesn’t make the waiting any easier.

(drop a title in my ask and get a bit of the fic i'd write for that title!)

[omgkatsudonplease]

you’re so right it’s katsudon and the gang

this picture is so beautiful to me, the colours brothers

[alola03]

that deleted song “One Dance” from the little mermaid is so komaya-coded its CRAZY. Not even specifically for the au but just in general

[lady-lauren]

❥ SHANKS X FEM!READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 2.3k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: forced orgasms, some yandere vibes, dub-con to be safe, very inappropriate use of conqueror's haki, power dynamics (captain/crew), praise, creampie, Shanks is so mean but so good and I would die for him

→ Kinktober Masterlist ←

“You’re gonna cum for me, darlin’, even if I have to take it from you.”

The weight of his words curl around your throat like a vice, blood pumping in your ears you until can barely hear his boisterous laugh. 

The smile he gives is so cheshire, so oddly genuine, it makes a shiver of fear run down the back of your neck. Perhaps it’s actually pleasure, but the emotions are too entangled for your brain to piece apart your state of mind. 

He’s not letting you go this time, not until he gets what he wants. 

“Shanks,” you plead, nails gripping into the black fabric of his cloak, “we shouldn’t, you’re my captain, and I—”

“And your captain knows what’s best for you. Promise.”

The playful lilt in his voice is disarming. 

He always lures you in so easily, and usually you can squirm away, calm your raging heart and pretend like you’re not the object of his desires. Because you shouldn’t be, you can’t be, you’re honor bound to serve him as your captain and you refuse to let lust cloud your relationship to Shanks. He helped make you a pirate. You’re more than a mistress.

Yet he’s already stripped you bare for him tonight, easy work for one of the most powerful men on the seas.

Warm lips press into your cheek as you turn your face from him, gritting your teeth as you deny his kiss.

Shanks chuckles in the face of your defiance, squishing his fingers into your cheeks to make you look at him. 

“You know, you really are cute, thinking you can stop me. Besides, don’t you want to follow Captain’s orders, hm? That’s why I picked you—you’re so loyal, always willing to please. But you should please and be pleased.”

His eyes close with a sincere smile, the pink scars nearly shining in the firelight of his room.

Perhaps you do forget sometimes how weak you are compared to him, to the man who can cut down enemies with a single gaze. 

Trapped between his colossal body and the wall, you have nowhere to run, no way to slink off and keep only ghosts of his touches. He’s going to make you feel every moment.

“Want me to show you how good I can make you feel?” 

“Trust me, I know, I know how good you’d feel, but I can’t—”

“You have no idea.”

Somehow he feels closer, as if the sun-kissed skin of his chest from his parted shirt is already blending into yours. He is darkness clouding over you, engulfing you.

He cups your chin with his hand, big fingers spilling down onto your neck. He slants his mouth over yours before you can protest, moving plush lips until you can’t help but moan. Spiced rum, aged and smooth, greets you when his tongue slides between parted lips. He kisses like a dance, like a back and forth that he leads.

“Breathe,” he whispers, and you don’t have to ask why. You sense his conqueror’s haki in the air before you feel the power lick at your skin, dragging and pulling and hot. 

“Cum for me.”

Lightning quick, your tummy tightens, the pleasure centers of your brain on overload as he overtakes you. Desire boils down to your cunt like a poisonous liquid heat, unbearable, sinful, yet so, so blissful as your pussy flutters and you fall over the crest of orgasm. 

“Fuck! Oh, fuck you, fuck, fuck…” Your eyes squeeze closed as the ecstasy is literally ripped from your body, like he somehow sunk his hand inside your core and extracted all the delight he craves. 

“Doesn’t that feel good?”

You can’t help but nod, because yes, it does, as if pleasure is bursting like supernovas underneath your skin. Your hands are clinging to him, one around the back of his neck, the other beneath his shirt, like you can’t help but be closer to the source of your heat.

“Shanks, I…” your tongue is so thick in your mouth, searching for words you can’t think of.

“Now imagine just how fucking good you’ll feel when you do that on my cock.” 

“Please, oh, god, please.”

His famous laugh greets your ears and you’re almost knocked back to the reality of who has you in his grasp. 

“That’s my girl.” 

You’re in his bed before you know it, eyes glassy at the sight of his naked body. You knew he’d be beautiful, but the actual view of him, on his knees, pumping his cock in his hand while between your legs has you whining.

“What’s going on in your pretty little head? Tell me.” 

“I…want you, so badly, and I-I’m sorry for pushing you away. I never—”

He shushes you, takes his hand from his cock so he can brush the back of his finger across your cheek, “You were just doing what you thought was right. Didn’t wanna just be my plaything, did you? I know you wanted to be my strong little pirate, but you can be both.” 

“Promise?” 

“Swear it.” He grins like a little boy as he mockingly draws an X across his heart with his finger. 

How can someone so deadly be so adorable?

Your instincts are flaring again, telling you to run, that once he sinks his claws into you, you’ll only ever be his. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Maybe that doesn’t sound so bad, especially not with how good it feels when he buries his hand between your thighs, fingers playing in your wetness. 

Shanks is equal parts messy and methodical, swirling his fingers around in your slick folds before rubbing his thumb over your already sensitive clit. You cry out, back arching and nails digging so deeply in his pillows you swear you hear fabric rip.

“Think I made you wet enough to take my cock already, don’t you?” 

To prove his point, he slides his slick-drenched fingers between your lips, letting you taste yourself. You nod your affirmation as you suck against his skin, his eyes shining as you wrap your tongue around his fingers.

You eye his cock between his legs, preening at the thought of having him inside you. His cock is pretty, fat, already leaking and veins straining beneath silken skin. Red curls crawl up his toned stomach and you nearly drool around his fingers. 

All you ever wanted was to be a pirate, but the sight of your captain’s cock has you content to be a whore.

“Been dreamin’ about you in my sheets ever since I found you, darlin’. Knew you were the one for me, my perfect girl.”

“Oh please,” you gasp as he draws his fingers from your mouth, dragging them down to your tit so he can pinch your nipple, “you know what praise does to me, Shanks.”

“Of course I do,” he sing-songs, grasping his dick and pushing his tip between your folds. He presses in, a cant of his hips shoving his cock halfway into your dripping hole. Your head falls back at the stretch, cooing at the feel of him. 

Shanks is clearly done chasing you, mindset moved to capture, to take. He bottoms out and immediately starts moving, grinning as he watches your pussy lips drag along his length. 

He wolf-whistles at the sight, making you flush with a strange mixture of embarrassment and pride. “Look at that pretty fucking pussy. So slutty already for me.”

Strong fingers push your thigh back, spreading you wide as he starts his pace. 

“Now,” Shanks clicks his tongue against his teeth, “let’s see what it feels like when I make you cum around my cock.” 

“You don’t, ah,” you gasp as his cockhead prods against a soft spot, “h-have to make me, I’ll—” 

“Shh, I’ll take care of you, baby. Let me make you feel good, yeah?” 

There’s no time to think, not with how fast he acts, a simple look into your eyes has you shattering until you scream. The pleasure claws from your depths all over again, more intense now that your cunt has his fat cock to convulse around. You suck him in deep as you fall, bliss blooming over every nerve ending. Your toes curl, your nails cut into his shoulders, your stomach nearly hurts from the twisting of your orgasm. 

“God damn, you feel so fucking good when you do that, get so tight around me.” 

“Sh-Sha—mhm, fuck,” you try to protest, to say something, but the way his body moves into yours is like the mesmeric waves, lulling you into a headspace of drifting euphoria. 

He’s all over you—hand in your hair, tongue sliding down your neck, lips sucking at the fat of your tits, teeth scraping along your curves. He’s all encompassing, snaking his arm behind your back until you're pressed against his thick chest and rocking with every thrust.

The orgasms have made you numb, all you feel is pure carnality, like now you just exist to fuck and be fucked.

For a moment you wonder if he’s still forcing it on you, but you decide you don’t care. He’s the only one who can make you feel like this, haki or no.

Shanks brushes his nose down your cheek, lips hot and wet as he kisses your skin, “Touch me, baby, be with me.” 

Like puppetry, your hands trace his musculature, taking note of how his shoulders roll with every push and how his abdominal muscles stiffen whenever your cunt spasms from pleasure.

You kiss over the freckles on his shoulder, down to the thick bicep he no longer wraps in bandages. 

He groans as your lips get close to where his arm used to be, a purr from deep in his chest like you’re too close to something vulnerable.

“Gonna take from you again, darlin.’ Gotta feel your cunt suck me dry.” 

“N-no I can—I can do it, I can cum for you, promise.” 

“Mhm, where’s the fun in that when I can just make you?”

His hand snakes around your body, letting you sink into the bed free of his hold. He teases your clit just because he can, because he likes watching you wiggle and writhe and whine beneath him.

You suck in a sob, “Please, just a little more, more, and I—”

Shanks’ haki feels like the warm licks of familiar fire. He burns because you let him too close, stared too long at the flames. 

You’re sure he purposely brings the assault of his conqueror's power on slower, lets it bleed and blend with the ecstasy building from the sensitive pressure on your clit. 

This crest is bigger, fuller, like you’ve been thrown from the Red Force into the toiling dark ocean. Only it’s boiling, scorching and tugging the pleasure from deep within your belly. 

“Oh god,” you throw your head back and whine, “too hot.” 

Shanks groans deep from his chest, fingers pausing on your clit as he feels you cum around him. His thighs shake, cock twitching and throbbing. Mean fingers dig into the softness of your belly like he’s clinging to sanity, holding himself back just enough to be in control. 

“One more, baby.”

He starts thrusting again, a slow grind into your depths that has red curls kneading into your clit. You feel him in your guts, your heart, like the beat of blood in your veins. 

“C-can’t, god, can’t, please.” Please no. Please yes. You’re back in an entanglement of emotions where no way is up, the sun still so far from underneath the waves.

Shanks buries his face in your neck, red hair fanning like embers across overheated skin. 

He sucks at your pulse, flesh between his lips, “yes you can, my good girl. For me.” 

You’re slammed into a new atmosphere, floating for seconds before being dragged back down, down to where you feel details of your name whispered against your throat and the pulsing of a thick cock as ropes of cum spill into tight, gummy walls. 

“Fuuuucckk, oh g-god, Shanks, hurts, so good, shit—”

You babble until your mouth runs dry, anchored by your captain’s bruising grasp on your hip. He has you flush against his body, heavy breaths syncing as you both float up from hell.

It’s like waking up from a dream when he starts kissing you, all feather-light and reverent. He sits up and his lopsided smile seems so sincere. 

“So proud of you, really thought you were gonna pass out there for a second.” He laughs playfully, blowing a stray red hair from his face. 

All you do is whine and shift your sore hips, gasping at the feel of his cock still hard and deep inside you. 

You’re not sure how much time passes before he pops his dick out—your heart beats are too erratic to count as seconds. 

He sinks praises into your skin, kissing down your breasts, your belly, making you jerk when he kisses the mound of your pussy. 

His breath is hot on your clit. That feeling has your mind shattering like porcelain, a sharp smack centering you straight back into reality. You sit up and stare at the scene before you, sharp-eyed prey watching a predator in the forest. 

“Shanks, no, please, for the love of god—” 

“No no no no, it’s okay,” he coos from between your legs, eyes closing and head cocking to the side as he smiles, “I’m not gonna take this one from you. Promise. Gonna let you do it all by yourself, nice and slow.” 

It’s easy to forget that Shanks is a bad liar when he shoves his pretty face down to eat his cum from your pussy. 

[shellshocklove]

brat! | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x brat!female!reader – no outbreak

summary: joel is having a brat summer.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap, enemies to lovers vibes? swearing, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes, reader wears a dress, heels and lipstick but otherwise no other descriptions, use of pet names, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, manhandling, a little exhibitionism? fingering, choking, spitting, a little dacryphilia, oral (m receiving), cock worship, spanking, degradation (whore, slut), some sub space territory, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), creampie, one use of the word ‘daddy’, no use of y/n

a/n: this was fun! and naughtier than i thought it was gonna be 💀 i’ve never written a reader so far removed from my own personality lol and i’m kind of obsessed with how this turned out. anyways stream brat by charlie xcx and happy reading! <3

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Blitzes of red, green, and blue danced before your eyes. The beating in your temples in tune with the bass vibrating in your chest. Around you the faceless bodies moved in slow motion. The heat rose around you as the sweat clung to your skin.

You’re sure you’ve lost your friends. Well, not lost lost. They were in the dancing crowd somewhere. Behind you, the same ugly guy had been rubbing up against you for a minute too long. You knew because you’d tipped your head back once and his borderline bowl cut hair, polo shirt with deep sweat rings under his arms, and tan chinos, were not it.

His breath stank of tequila when he leaned into your ear, “Hey,” he slurred, “wanna get out of here?”

And that had been your cue to leave.

With a scoff, you turned around to get a good look at him. You’d sized him up, made a show of it, and laughed in his face. Then you pushed your way through the crowd, coming up for air by the bar.

The earlier buzz you’d been sailing on, had weaned off a long time ago. It had been last minute, you weren’t even going out tonight, just having dinner with your childhood friends while you were home for the summer. But then one of them had ordered shots for the table just as the last plate had been cleared, and soon you were at the club cruising on a couple of glasses of wine and a lousy shot. Not that it mattered, usually you ended up twirling some sorry man around your finger long enough to get yourself a couple of rounds, before you’d excuse yourself to the ladies’ room and leave with your friends.

Looking down the bar, you searched for tonight’s victim.

To your right a group of girls huddled around the edge, waiting for their own drinks by the looks of it.

Not them.

Down to your left, a boy with a face full of acne fumbled with his card as he paid for a round of beers. He didn’t even look old enough to be in here, but that wasn’t your problem. You had to hold back a laugh as you watched him struggle to figure out how to carry the five beers he’d ordered back to his friends. He ended up gathering them in a circle to wrap his hands around, and you’d seen this go wrong plenty of times to feel the pull of an amused smile on your lips.

When he’d vanished into the crowd, your eyes flicked back to the bar, to the man sitting there– and he was a man. Probably somewhere in his fifties you reckoned, but he looked gorgeous. A real dilf. Your interest was piqued.

You slid down the bar.

He didn’t look particularly amused where he sat at a bar stool, nursing a beer in his hands. Who sits at the bar in the club? He looked nice. Brown hair, dark jeans, and a grey t-shirt stretched deliciously over his chest. When you got closer you could see a flannel resting beside him on the bar.

Is this what older men wear to the club these days?

He didn’t seem to notice you as you sat down next to him – either that, or he ignored you. You kinda wished for the latter, it would make it more fun.

You gave him a few more minutes of silence, of your presence, to see if he’d say something to you. When he didn’t you asked him over the music, “Aren’t you gonna buy me a drink?”

You said it innocently, but like it was obvious and he hadn’t caught on yet. His head turned towards you, still unamused, but with his eyebrow raised.

Okay, you could work with that.

You didn’t say anything as he studied you, drank you in like you’d done to him from afar. You felt his gaze over your clinging dress, your bare shoulders, before they found your eyes.

Something tickled in your core, and you were reminded of how long it had been since you’d been properly fucked– fucked by someone who wasn’t some drunk guy at your college’s parties, but fucked by someone who knew what they were doing.

The man turned towards you; a smile tickling the corner of his mouth.

“Does that usually work f’you, sweetheart?”

You weren’t expecting his rebuttal, but you liked it. He wasn’t some boy who’d trip over himself for the privilege of being in the presence of you. The boys – they made it too easy – but this man would make you work for it.

Putting on your most saccharine smile you slid closer to him, “You looked so lonely over here– thought I’d keep you company.”

A scoffing laugh escaped him, and his head dipped, “’s that so?” His eyes found yours again.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” you ignored his question, and brushed your heeled foot up the length of his calf.

“Ain’t ever been here before,” he kept his eyes on your face, his drawl pulling at the words and twisting up your insides.

“So, a virgin, huh?” you teased, and that seemed to amuse him.

“What– you’re here to pop my cherry?”

This time an amused smile pulled at your face. You liked this man. “Not without a drink first,” your foot slid down his calf, “what do you take me for?”

A bright sense of pride filled your chest when you made him laugh, filling you up with confidence.

“D’you want me to answer that?” he rebutted.

He didn’t say it with any malice, it was teasing and playful, and it pulled at the veil inside you. A genuine smile pulled at the corners of your mouth, “Probably not.”

“What can I getcha, then, sweetheart?”

“G&T?” you said, and bit down on your bottom lip coquettishly.

Turning away from you, the man got the attention of the bartender. You watched his profile, followed the line of his jaw, the shape of his nose. You decided then and there that your night was gonna end in this man’s bed.

“Sooo,” you sang, when you’d gotten your drink, “first time here, huh?” The man just nodded, before he sipped his beer.  

Not much of a talker, huh?

“You here alone, or? With the wife maybe?”

That pulled a laugh from him. “I’m here with my lil’ brother… bachelor party,” he shook his head, like he couldn’t believe he’d gotten dragged in here, “he’s gettin’ married next month.”

“Ah,” you nodded and took a sip of your drink. “So, where are you heading next? A strip club?” you teased.

The man just shot you an unimpressed look, and you thought about how you’d never seen a man look so out of place, ever.

“What? The wife won’t let you?”

A sharp huff escaped him, “Ain’t got no wife no more,” he said matter-of-factly.

You took another sip of your drink to hide the smile from forming.

Bingo.

“I take it you’re a man who does what he wants, then?” you said it innocently, and subtly slid your hand over his knee. His eyes caught yours at the touch, and you swore you saw something change in them.

You’d hooked him now, all you had to do was reel him in.

He turned his body towards you – he did it slowly, like every muscle he moved had been calculated beforehand. Then he leaned in closer, his hot breath huffing against your ear.

“Takes one to know one, ain’t that right?”

Under your skin, you buzzed, your heart beating out of your chest at the new proximity. You had to stay cool, play it off, act unbothered. So, you pulled away slightly, and turned your head to meet his eyes.

“What?” he challenged with a raise of an eyebrow, “Ain’t used to people talkin’ back?”

When you didn’t say anything right away, a smug grin coated his lips, “Yeah, I know girls like you.”

“There’s no girls like me,” you argued back, his confidence both pissing you off, and turning you on at the same time.

“Oh, but there are– Spoiled daddy’s girls who ain’t had anyone tellin’ them no their whole life. They do what they want, and play with who they want– I know a brat when I see one.”

Your eyes narrowed at him as he pulled away, that infuriating smug grin not going anywhere. The worst part was that he was right, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“But you like that don’t you?” you challenged, “I bet you live in some sad house in a sleepy suburban cul-de-sac, go to the same boring job every day, and wish your wife never left you.”

A flash of hurt could be seen across his face as those last words left your lips, and you thought you’d maybe gone too far. A beat of silence passed between you, the buzzing beat of the club music keeping the tune of the tension building.

You were about to apologize when he finally spoke, “You’re a rude one, aren’t ya?”

His voice didn’t sound as hurt as you’d thought, and you realize he was playing your game. You almost had him.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you challenged, hammering the final nail in the coffin.

“That depends on you, sweetheart.”

Outside the club, Joel (the man had finally introduced himself) leaned against the bricks of the alley as you fished a cigarette from your purse. According to your phone, your uber would be there in ten minutes. The fresh air had sobered you up slightly, exchanging the buzzing alcohol in your veins with excitement.

You didn’t know what you were in for.

Over your skin, you felt his gaze roll over you, and you let him look. Let him study your body filling out your sheer, white, almost see-through dress. You didn’t offer him a cigarette; he’d have to ask for it himself, or take it, if he wanted a drag.

“So,” you took a drag of your cigarette, savoring the first tar-y breath, before exhaling through your nose, “where are you taking me?”

Joel shifted his weight against the bricks as his arms crossed over his wide chest. “Whatchu call it? My sad house?” he said, his voice bordering on cold if it wasn’t for the smug smile covering his features.

You gave him a sultry look as you stepped closer, crossing one heeled foot in front of the other, slowly.

“Mmm,” you hummed, as you tilted your head with an uninterested face, “Sounds fucking boring to me.” Your finger climbed up his chest, eyes traveling from his chest to his face. His stern face gave nothing away, as you took another drag of your cigarette and blew the smoke in his face.

Finally, he’d had enough. His large hand wrapped around your wrist, and tightened, before he turned you around and pushed you up against the wall. You let out an exaggerated huff as your body hit the bricks, your cigarette slipping from your fingers. He pushed himself up against you, and you couldn’t contain the satisfied grin on your face, pleased to have pushed his buttons enough to finally act.

“Oh, I’ll show you boring, brat.”

A rough hand danced up the side of your thigh and under the hem of your dress. Challenging him, you squirmed against the grip of his other hand around your wrist.

“Nuh-uh,” he shook his head, and he was so close now you felt his breath ghost over your lips. With a twist of your arm, he pinned it behind your back, Joel now completely in control, and a buzz of arousal spread through your body at the thought.

“You listen’ up now, and I’m only gonna say it once: you’re gonna do as I say, when I say it, and no talkin’ back, we clear?” His voice was stern, but his dark brown eyes gave him away; how they’d widened with lust, blown out and dark. Your panties already soaked at the thought of what he had in mind for you tonight.

“Yes,” you said playfully, biting down at your bottom lip through a smile.

“Yes, sir,” he corrected as his rough hand on your thigh slid closer and closer to the seam of your thong. “Good girls who do as they’re told get rewarded, you understand?”

You nodded, sucking in a breath as you felt his fingers brush over your clit lightly. He was testing you now, teasing you, and pushing your buttons. You felt like you were on fire, burning from arousal; it licked up your thighs and flickered bright in your core.

Where was that fucking uber?

“But you ain’t no good girl,” he snickered, sliding his hand past your panties, “teasin’ me– tryna provoke me,” he shook his head, and a slick sound of your arousal could be heard as he worked two thick fingers through your wet folds.  

His finger poked at your hole where it ached for him. The thick tension between you weighed heavy with arousal as Joel leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Imma have to punish you for that, baby, put you in your place.”

A gasp left your lips as he pressed two fingers inside. The stretch stung slightly, but you welcomed the pain, liked it. A satisfied grin blossomed over your face as he started moving his fingers. They felt so good inside of you, so thick, almost like a cock, and the way his palm rubbed against your clit– it gave you just enough stimulation to push you towards the edge of an orgasm.

“Look at you, slut,” his breath was hot as he whispered in your ear, “so desperate to get fucked.”

A strangled moan escaped your throat, and you couldn’t help but grind against his fingers to chase the pleasure he was giving you. The degrading words and humiliation only made you wetter. Joel couldn’t get any more perfect– so far, he'd played his part to the T.

“In your– fuck!” You moaned as the pad of his fingers brushed up against your g-spot. Just a little more now, and he’d have you coming on his fingers.

“Didn’t hear you, sweetheart, y’need to speak up,” he taunted, continuing the pace of his fingers.

“In your d-dreams, old man,” you tried to spit out, but the pleasure he gave you was taking over, making you stumble over your words.

Quickly, Joel withdrew his fingers, sliding them up the front of your cunt, giving your clit a slap, before he backed off completely. You gasped; face pulled tight in a disappointed frown.

“What the fuck!?”

And then he fucking laughed, fucking laughed at you.

“I already told you, sweetheart, only good girls get rewarded.”

He stepped closer again, his hand cupping your cheek while the other pressed the fingers coated in your arousal to your lips. “Clean up your mess, and we’ll see ‘bout that reward.”

Parting your lips, he stuffed his fingers inside your mouth. They tasted of you, a sweet-salty taste. You closed your lips around them, and sucked, letting your tongue tease around his fingers the way you’d tease his cock. “That’s it, good girl,” he grinned, and it sparked a small flame of pride in your chest.

When he was pleased with you, he slipped his fingers from your mouth. He let them glide over your lips, smearing your lipstick and coating your lips in your own saliva as a set of headlights illuminated the street. Then, he patted your cheek, nodding towards what you assumed was your uber as it rolled to a stop in front of you, “Go on, get in the uber.”

In the uber Joel was quiet, ignoring you as were forced to make small talk with the driver (you’d give him a bad review just for that). When you thought the small talk had been torture enough, Joel slid his hand up your thigh, resting his big palm right at the seam of your leg as he looked out the window. If your panties weren’t already soaked from what he’d done to you in the alleyway of the club, then they definitely were now as the anticipation only grew.

Joel’s house wasn’t sad at all. It was quaint, and suburban, but homey. Nice. No expensive designer furniture, but sturdy and of good quality either way. He had no rare art, but a decent amount of family photos and what looked like a child’s drawings. You stopped in the middle of the stairs to admire them. In one of them Joel looked as old as you were now, with a baby in his arms, in another he had his arm around the shoulders of another man who looked a lot like him, just with darker hair. His brother probably, the one getting married. The little baby was a little girl, and she grew up in front of you; birthday parties, first days of school, soccer uniforms. Your eyes landed on a photo of her in a graduation cap with Joel and the other man at her side, grinning wide with a college diploma in her hands. This man wasn’t who you’d thought. He had a family– a daughter your age. The wall of memories squeezed at your heart, made something inside you always kept hidden break forth–

“You comin’?”

Joel waited at the top of the stairs for you, his face pulled into a confused frown. You skipped up the stairs, happy to have left your heels by his door. When you got to the top, you pushed at his chest, “Just looking at your sad things.” With a roll of his eyes, he led you to his bedroom.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, but his voice was distant, the bite from the club was gone.

It felt like the perfect opportunity to play with him.

“No,” you blinked innocently, your eyes wide as you watched him unbutton his green flannel, “you’ll have to make me.”

He let out a laugh that sounded more like a sigh, “I’m serious, sweetheart, I need to talk to you first.”

Talk?

“You can’t get it up, is that it? You’re too old?” you teased but sat down at the bed either way.

“You really are mean, aren’t ya?” His laugh sounded like a surrender. “A man wantin’ to be a gentleman and establish boundaries before he ruins her, and this is what he gets?”

Shaking his head, he walked closer, and cupped your head in his hands. “I plan on bein’ rough with ya, sweetheart, and I think that’s what you want too, isn’t it? Get fucked so hard you can’t think?” You nodded your head in his arms, the velvet bass of his voice going straight to your core.

“Listen’ closely– if I do anythin’ you don’t like, you say ‘red’ and we stop, and if you can’t speak then you pinch me, you hear?”

You nodded again.

“Words, baby, need y’to say it with that pretty voice.” His thumbs brushed over your cheek.

You nodded again, “Yes, sir… if I want you to stop, I say ‘red’, or pinch you.”

“Good girl,” he praised, “Anythin’ else?”

“Um…” Your front teeth caught on your bottom lip, “I’m on birth control– you can come inside me if you want.”

A noise rumbled in Joel’s chest. “Such a naughty girl,” his thumb brushed over the plump of your lips, “letting a stranger come inside her, huh?”

You nodded again, a wicked smile breaking against his thumb before you opened your mouth, and bit down. Not hard, just enough to pull a reaction from him, and you did.

Like a switch, the warm whiskey eyes faded into a deep black. The grip on your chin slid downwards, where it found your neck. He didn’t squeeze, but his grip wasn’t gentle either, holding you in place like a warning.

“You ought to treat me with more respect, brat…” he spat, his thumb digging into the column of your neck, “Apologize for your rude behavior.”

Against his hand, you shook your head to the best of your abilities, his grip tightening with your movement. You wished he’d choke you properly, make your head all fuzzy and empty– filled with nothing except for him.

“No.”

His face turned to stone above you, and you felt a giddiness flutter in your stomach.

 He didn’t like that.  

In one quick motion his hand was ripped from your throat as he stepped away. He didn’t look at you as he sighed, his hands falling to his belt buckle, sharp metal clinking.

Taking advantage of the moment, you admired the man before you. How big and broad he was. How his t-shirt stretched tight over his broad chest, biceps bulging against the woven fabric. You studied his hands as they fiddled with his buckle, thought about how good they’d felt inside you earlier, the pleasurable sting as they’d stretched you out.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered, voice cold.

When you didn’t move, he took matters into his own hands.

“Get. On. Your. Fuckin’. Knees.”

His grip around your wrist was tight, as he pushed you down. The hardwood floor dug into your knees as he manhandled you, sure to bruise tomorrow. He stood his ground in front of you, legs slightly parted as you were now eye level with his inviting bulge. He was big, and you felt your eyes widen. Even hidden away in his jeans you could see it, see the length of his hard cock strain against his thigh – it made your mouth water as you squeezed your thighs together.

“Look me in the eyes,” he told you, and your eyes flicked upwards – obedient for once. “Eyes up here at all times– Don’t you fuckin’ dare look away.”

He made it hard to do as he’d ordered, popping the button on his jeans, and pulling the zipper down. You wanted to see his cock, touch it, feel it inside you. He couldn’t possibly expect you to not look when it was right there.

"Disobedient slut.” 

The slap came quicker than the stolen glance, and your hand came up to graze your cheek on pure instinct. It stung under your palm, like a thousand little knives.

“What did I jus’ say?” He spat out the question, his hand gripping your chin to force eye contact.

“Look away?” you tried, your voice rising an octave.

“Open your fuckin’ mouth,” he sighed, leaning closer, “I ain’t wanna hear any more of your fuckin’ attitude.”

His grip tightened on your chin and your mouth dropped open by itself, “Open your mouth– that’s it… wider, just like that.”

Then he spat, right into your mouth.

You flinched at the suddenness of it, but Joel’s grip on your chin held you still– kept your mouth open, as you felt his spit slide further and further into your throat. You had a feeling you shouldn’t swallow until he told you, so you didn’t, your head pliant in his hand as you let him study you. A wide grin spread across his face as he moved your head from one side to the other, his rough fingers denting into your skin as you waited for your next command.

“Swallow, brat.”

He let go of your face, and you closed your mouth, swallowing down his spit with an audible gulp. “Good girl,” he muttered and stood tall, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his jeans.

The rough sound of denim against skin filled your ears as he freed himself. You were on your best behavior now, gathering your hands in your lap, sitting pretty for him as you locked eyes with him coquettishly.

“That’s better,” he said, “Actin’ like a proper good girl now,” he praised.

It took everything in you not to look, as he stepped closer.

With a fist tight around his cock, he brought the head to your mouth. He tapped it on your lips, smearing the precum beading at the tip and ruined your lipstick.

You wanted to taste him so badly, but he couldn’t know that. Pinching your lips together, you shook your head with wide coquettish eyes. His eyebrows pinched together in a frown, eyes narrowing at you as he pushed his cock against your lips.

“Open that pretty fuckin’ mouth, f’me,” he ordered.

Pretty. He called you pretty, and it was enough for you, you gathered, and stretched your mouth open for him.

“That’s it, wider.”

You twitched in surprise as he slapped the length against your tongue. It was heavy on your tongue, the salty taste of his precum mixing with your saliva as he rubbed the head over your tongue, in and out, in and out – coating his big cock in your saliva, “just like that, baby, get it nice ‘nd wet.”

Closing your lips around the mushroom tip, you ran your tongue around it in circles, teasing the underside and the slit, before you tipped your head back. His cock bobbed in front of you obscenely, a frown formed on his face again and you knew he was about to tell you off.

Gathering a blob of saliva in your mouth, you spat on his cock instead. A low humming laugh rumbled from Joel’s chest, as he collected your spit and rubbed it in over his shaft in slow strokes. The spit dripped down, down over your front where you felt it darken the fabric of your dress. Subtly, you reached your hands behind your back to pull at the zipper.

“Yeah, that’s right, get those pretty tits out f’me.”

He let you maneuver out of your dress while he stroked his cock slowly in front of your face, and finally, you could get a good look at him. He was bigger than you’d thought from his bulge. Veins lining his thick shaft as you watched the way his fist moved up, massaging the tip gently, and down again in a slow, steady rhythm. At the base unruly curls of dark hair shone in the spit gathering, and you let your eyes wander downward to his balls where they hung heavy.

You wanted to taste them, too.

With your dress discarded on the floor beside you, you sat up slightly, spreading your legs and tucking your calves up to your thighs. Almost naked, safe for the thong splitting your cheeks, you arched your back slightly, making sure he got a good view of your ass.

A groan rumbled in Joel’s chest, and a hand came down on your head, “You want my cock, don’t you, slut?” he spat, slapping his cock on your right cheek, spreading your spit on your skin.

“Do you make all your girls wait this long or is it just me?” you tutted, almost rolling your eyes at him.

“There’s that fuckin’ attitude again.”

Slapping his cock harder against your cheek, he leaned forward letting a blob of spit drip from his own lips, coating both his cock and your face as he rubbed it in with his cock.

It was obscene, degrading, and you’d never been wetter.

In desperation to taste him again, you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out. The hand he’d used to stroke himself, wrapped around your skull, caging his cock between his hand and your face as he started thrusting against your face, his heavy balls rubbing against your chin with every slow push.

It was messy, sloppy, and wet. He held your head steady with his other hand, while he continued rubbing his cock over your cheek, nose, and forehead. His spit mixed with your own as you lapped at the underside of his cock; trying to taste as much of him as he’d give you.

“You dirty little whore,” he smiled, “You like that don’t you?”

Under him you whimpered, clit pulsing with want as he made you his plaything, did what he wanted with you.

“Yeah,” you moaned unabashedly, licking greedily at the underside of his cock.

At that, he laughed, and the grip on your head loosened as he pulled back. You only had time to take a deep breath before he stuffed his cock down your throat. It was abrupt, and harsh – the hefty length of him making room for himself inside your mouth.

You couldn’t fit him all inside, gagging as the head of him hit the back of your throat. He held you there still, one second, two seconds, three seconds. Your hand found his thigh where you tapped at him, and finally he pulled away.

You gasped for air, your breath wet with spit as small tears pricked at your eyes. His hand landed on top of your head again, grounding you to the moment as he searched your eyes, checking in.

No, you tried to convey, you’re not too rough.

Pleased, his cock bumped against your lips again, and you dropped your mouth open for him again.

“That’s it,” he murmured, thrusting his cock back in your mouth, “let’me fuck that throat open.”

Dropping your jaw, you tried to make room for him in your mouth. It wasn’t easy, your lips stretched wide around the girth of him as you tried to calm yourself, to open your throat for him to abuse. His cock was easily the biggest cock you’d ever sucked, and you told yourself you needed to relax.

He pressed himself deeper, and you let out a whimper. “Work with me, slut, hold still.”

Trying your best to obey, you breathed through your nose, staving off your gag reflex the best you could as the head knocked at the back of your throat. His other hand cupped your chin, keeping your head still between his large hands. A tear rolled down your cheek when he rutted into your mouth, testing the waters.

“Good girl,” he praised, fucking gently into your mouth. Saliva gathered in your mouth, drooling down your chin with each thrust. “Such a fuckin’ mess– Look me in the eye as I fuck your throat.”

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, keeping you steady as you locked eyes with him. It was difficult, tears clouding him in a vignette, but you did as you were told. He studied you closely, tested your boundaries, completely in control.

You gasped for air when he finally pulled back again. A wet string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock. A proud smirk coated his lips, while his hand stroked your head in praise.

The small moment of relief passed quickly, and soon his cock was back in your throat, bruising it in a steady rhythm.

“Take that fuckin’ cock all the way down your throat, whore,” he spat, his thrust a little rougher now that he knew you could take it.

He had you at his mercy now as he ruined you. Ruined your throat, ruined your body, ruined you for other men. Tears mixed with snot, which mixed with spit as it ran down your chin, dripping lewdly onto your tits where it made a mess.

Over you, Joel rambled.

“Good fuckin’ slut.”

“Choke on that big fuckin’ cock.”

“You love it don’t you?”

And you did, you loved it. Joel made you feel useful for once in a life – a fucked up thought, but then again you never said you weren’t fucked up. Joel’s words were filthy and dirty, and as humiliating as they were he made you feel wanted.

You just wanted to be wanted.

Another gasp of air filled your lungs as he slipped from your mouth. His grip on your head was tighter now, his cock throbbing in front of you. As much as you wanted him to fuck you, you wouldn’t complain if he came down your throat. He’d given you so much already.

“Fuck,” he whispered and let go of your head.

You took the opportunity to catch your breath, sniffling as you wiped at the snot that clogged up your nose. His hand came down to squeeze at the base of himself, clearly staving off his orgasm.

“What,” you croaked, your voice hoarse after his assault on your throat, “you’re so old you can’t come now?”

His eyes darkened as they locked with yours, and a giddy bouncing feeling twisted in on itself in your tummy. You wanted to see what he’d do to you– how he’d fuck you, and if you’d have to push his buttons to see it, you gladly push the big red button.

His hand wrapped around your bicep, digging into the skin as he dragged you to your feet and pushed you towards the bed.

“Still a fuckin’ brat I see,” he spat, “We can’t have that can we?”

Putting on your best puppy dog eyes, you bit down on your bottom lip. “Who me?” you said innocently.

“Bend over, slut,” he ordered, his voice coated in a tone that said he was fed up with your bullshit. Strong arms turned you around, manhandling you, and pushed your front down on his bed, “’nd spread your fuckin’ legs.”

With a kick to your ankles, he forced your legs open. Tipping your head up, you locked eyes with your reflection in the window, like a camera lens capturing your ruin at Joel’s hand. He hovered over you, his eyes trailing over your naked body, laid out for him to take.

The first smack came quickly, hard, and brutal on your ass cheek. It made you jump, the muscles in your ass clenching as you tried to reel yourself in. Joel’s rough hand soothed over the burn immediately, and you turned your neck to find his eyes.

“I wanna hear an apology from you, brat,” he said calmly, one finger hooking into the lace of your thong.

You shook your head. Stubborn. “No.”

His head fell between his shoulders, while his finger hooked in your thong tightened its grip, and with a hard tug, he ripped it in two.

“Then I’m gonna have to punish ya.” He said it with a deep sigh, like he had no other choice.

You couldn’t hide the excitement that filled you at those words, your cunt now dripping with need. A need for Joel.

With the scrap of your thong now discarded his hand danced over your ass. You tried not to hold your breath, but he drew it out, and you couldn’t help it. The tension in the air so thick, you couldn’t focus.

Smack!

He spanked your other cheek hard, and the tension was released with a whimper. A tickling feeling of pins and needles spread through your cheek.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

They came in quick procession, your hands gripping the sheets for a lifeline as he put you in your place. Moans fell from your lips without abandon, and you felt yourself drip down your legs.

Smack!

“Look how wet you are,” he noticed, running a finger through your seam, “You like it? Only desperate whores like to get spanked.”

He leaned over you, his soft belly (when had he removed his shirt?) pressed against your back, coarse hair tickling your skin, as you felt his hard cock rub up against your sore ass.

“But that’s what you are, ain’t you? A desperate fucking whore.” His breath in your ear, had goosebumps erupt down your spine, and you sobbed out a whine.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he whispered, and pulled away – taking his warmth with him.

Smack!

Tears pushed their way behind your eyes, not because you didn’t like it, but it stung like a motherfucker. Joel wasn’t all brutal, he rubbed your skin between hits, but fuck if it didn’t also hurt with pleasure.

“Say you’re sorry,” he demanded.

Turning around you shook your head, big wide eyes watching him as he spanked you again.

Smack!

“You’re tearing up, little girl– It stings doesn’t it?” he asked, voice laced with fake pity.

You nodded.

“Well, maybe you should be a good girl then– say you’re sorry.”

Smack!

“I’m sorry!” you blurted out, voice cracking.

Finally.

Joel stopped immediately, his hand twisting around your waist to flip you on your back. His eyes danced over your body, almost tenderly but still full of lust. His hand moved up and down your sides, down the thick of your thigh before they gripped your ankles and tugged.

A squeal escaped you as he manhandled you, his large hands cupping your face while he fitted himself between your legs. “Good girl,” he cooed, thumbs stroking your cheeks, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You shook your head in his hands, popping your lip out in an innocent pout.

“No,” he cooed, removing a hand to fit between your bodies.

You gasped when you felt the head of his cock bump your clit, the first real stimulation you’d had since you’d left the ally by the club. Your hips bucked by themselves, chasing the friction of his touch.

“Who owns this cunt?” he asked you, dark eyes staring into yours as he dragged his cock through your soaked folds.

“You do, sir,” you sighed immediately, your whole body aching for him.

A wide wicked grin spread across his face, “Lookit you bein’ such a good girl– finally know your place, huh?”

With no warning, you felt the blunt head of him press at your opening, and then Joel pushed inside you. Your mouth parted in a gasp at the intrusion; eyes glazed over in bliss as you felt yourself get split in two around the girth of his cock. He was so big, filling you up inch by inch, a heavy pressure poking at the deepest part of yourself.

“There you go, baby– you jus’ take it. Take all that cock inside,” he grunted, eyebrows pinched tight.

All you could do was moan as you felt him bottom out inside you, “Shit,” you gasped, “So fuckin’ big.”

“I know, baby, you’re doin’ so good f’me,” he praised, starting to rock his hips into you.

He picked up the pace quickly when he was sure you could take it, splitting you open on his cock as he made you takeit. Under him you could feel yourself float away in the pleasure. His hand came up to wrap around your neck and a big smile spread across your face.

You felt so warm. Joel felt so fucking good.

He reduced you to a puddle, a puddle of pleasure and ecstasy. It was better than any drug you’d ever taken. Better than the first day of summer vacation. Better than anything you’d ever known. The sound of skin against skin faded away into a tranquil rhythm of pleasure. You belonged to him now, lived only for him and the way his cock felt inside you.

“Feel how deep that is?” he asked you, somehow having maneuvered your knees to press into your chest.

You couldn’t do anything other than nod, desperate and whiny. You needed to fucking come. Inside you, his cock bumped into a spot no other man had reached before, and a fluttering feeling coiled itself in your core.

You were so close now.

“Joel,” you gasped, searching for the words as he continued his pace, balls slapping hard against your ass.

“No,” he told you, teeth gritted, “You hold it, slut, you hold it ‘till I give you permission.”

Later, a thought of how he’d had you so close to coming without even a tap at your clit would graze you, but in this moment your thought were only filled with Joel. A hand found his bicep, you needed something to hold on to or you’d burst, and squeezed. Above you Joel’s groans and moans got louder.

“Hold it.”

Tears streamed down your face, as you heaved for breath. You were right there, right on the edge now.

Please, Joel, please, sir, please.

“Come.”

Arching your back off the mattress, you shook as you finally tipped over the edge of bliss. The sounds escaping your throat weren’t your own, they were someone else’s, someone possessed with pleasure.

A “Thank you,” fell from your lips, but you don’t think he heard you. Above you, Joel’s movement became more and more erratic, thrusting himself deeper and deeper before a loud groan vibrated through his chest.

“You take it,” he growled, “take all that fuckin’ cum inside.”

He slammed his hips hard against you, pushing himself as deep as he could inside you, and came with a loud primal groan. His cock twitched within your walls as he emptied himself inside your cunt, the warmth of him filled you up as he painted your walls with cum.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he mumbled, burying his face in your neck, “That cum feels so good inside, don’t it?” he cooed, and you nodded, your hands tangling in his hair. He pulled back and thrusted inside you again, fucking his cum deeper inside.

He stayed inside you as you both caught your breaths. His weight felt good on you, you were safe, as you floated somewhere between reality and a space you’d never been pushed to before.

And you missed him when he pulled away, sliding his half-hard cock from your fucked out cunt, dragging you with him up the bed. You reached for him, laying your hand open against his sheets, but he didn't see it, eyes mesmerized by his spend dripping out of you. His fingers slid through the mess, pushing his cum back inside as his eyes found yours.

Then something in the air shifted, and whatever had come over you, was gone. His fingers left streaks of wetness down the inside of your thigh as he pulled away. For the first time in your life, you didn’t know what to say.

You were ruined now – he’d ruined you for everyone who wasn’t him.

You sat up, turning your head over your shoulder to watch him, watch how his eyes trailed your body.

“Smoke?” you asked, your voice more unsteady than you’d thought.

Joel shook his head as you slung your feet off the bed to find your purse. He sat up against the pillows resting against his broken bed frame. Your eyes raked over his naked body as you fished a cigarette from your packet; drank in his strong arms, his wide chest and followed the dark hair of his happy trail down his belly to his soft cock between his thighs, still coated in your combined cum. Between your legs you could still feel his thick spend leak out of you.

You brought the cigarette to your lips, and just as you were about to light up Joel’s rough voice spoke, “Out the window,” he ordered with a nod in the direction of the window.

Everything was back to how it was before.

A dramatic huff escaped you, “All right…” you muttered.

You felt too heavy– he’d messed with your head; made you show him the real you. He couldn’t see that. So instead, you put your mask back on, turning to face the window to conceal the mischievous smile threating to spill across your face.

“Daddy.”

Behind you, as you cracked open the window, you heard the bed creak. You played it cool, lighting your cigarette and blowing the smoke out the window.

Joel’s breath teased at the back of your neck and over your bare shoulder, making goosebumps dance down your spine, “Thought I’d fucked the attitude out of ya,” his voice was stern.

“Guess I was wrong.”

part two -> here!

i hope someone liked this? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[mnightseoul]

Midnight Deals ( Yuna x Male OC )

tags: creampie, blowjob, humiliation, cucking, facial

The neon lights of the college party throbbed in sync with the bass of the latest pop songs, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the crowded room. You and Yuna had been looking forward to this night for weeks—a much-needed break from the relentless march of midterms and deadlines. As you both entered the apartment, the warmth of the bodies packed tightly together hit you like a wall, the scent of cheap beer and sweat mingling with the sweet aroma of someone's overenthusiastic cologne.

You grabbed a couple of plastic cups from the makeshift bar on the kitchen counter, which was sticky with the residue of spilled drinks and good times. The room was a cacophony of laughter, shouted conversations, and the clinking of ice. The partygoers were a sea of faces, some familiar, others a blur of unmet acquaintances. Yuna's eyes lit up as she spotted a few of her friends from the dorm, and with a squeal of excitement, she dragged you through the throng to say hello.

You filled your cups with a mysterious concoction that was more likely a mix of various half-empty bottles than an actual cocktail. The taste was a potent blend of sugar and regret, but the burn of the alcohol as it slid down your throat was surprisingly welcome. Yuna took a cautious sip before throwing her head back and downing half of hers. "It's gonna be a wild night," she giggled, her cheeks already flushed from the warmth of the room and the beginnings of a buzz.

As the night progressed, so did the drinks. You lost count of how many you had consumed, each one a little less satisfying than the last, but the buzz grew steadily stronger. Yuna's laughter grew louder, her movements more erratic, as she danced with wild abandon in the center of the room. You watched her for a moment, the love and adoration swelling in your chest, before joining in, the music pulsing through your veins like a second heartbeat.

The party swirled around you, a blur of lights and faces. You stumbled over to the snack table, where a bowl of chips looked like the most appealing food you had ever seen. You grabbed a fistful and shoveled them into your mouth, the salty crunch briefly soothing the burning in your throat. The room was spinning now, the edges of your vision blurring and darkening like an old photograph.

Suddenly, a hand clapped you on the shoulder, and your best friend, Alex, appeared beside you, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Having a good time, man?" he yelled over the music. You nodded, unable to form coherent words around the mouthful of chips. "Your girlfriend's looking hot tonight," he shouted, nodding towards the dance floor where Yuna was gyrating with a group of her friends.

A rush of pride mixed with the haze of alcohol. "Yeah, she's amazing," you managed to reply, your voice slurred. Alex leaned in closer, his breath reeking of beer. "Seriously, she's smoking." The compliment washed over you like a warm wave, and you felt a strange mix of affection for him and possessiveness over Yuna. You shot a playful glare his way.

But then, his smile took a sharp turn, and his eyes glinted with something else. He leaned in even closer, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Wanna trade for a night?" he asked, his grin wicked. "Yeji's not here right now, but if you let me have a go with Yuna, I'll let you sleep with her." You paused, the chips in your mouth momentarily forgotten. The proposal was ludicrous, but there was a strange temptation in his words. Yeji was one of those girls who seemed untouchable—beautiful, exotic, and always just out of reach.

You felt a cold chill down your spine, the kind that sobered you up a bit. "What the hell are you talking about?" you spat, your hand balling into a fist. "That's not funny, man." But Alex's expression remained unchanged, his eyes boring into yours, challenging you. "Come on, it's just a bit of fun," he insisted, his tone low and persuasive. "We're all adults here. Live a little."

Before you could respond, he pulled out his phone and began swiping through his photos. The screen filled with videos, each one a little more explicit than the last. You watched, horrified and yet fascinated, as he showed you clips of him and Yeji in various states of undress, her body contorted in ways that seemed impossible. The images blurred together, a carnival of flesh and passion that you couldn't tear your eyes away from. Your heart raced, a mix of curiosity and arousal coursing through you. You had no idea what to say, the room spinning even faster now.

Alex must have seen the internal struggle playing out across your features because his grin grew even wider. "You know you want to," he said, his voice smooth as honey. "It's not like it's cheating if everyone agrees, right?" He leaned in closer, his words hot on your ear. "Think about it. You get to experience something new, something wild, and Yuna gets to have her own adventure. Who knows, maybe you'll even like it."

You pondered over his proposal, the alcohol muddling your judgment. On one hand, the idea was absurd, disrespectful even. But on the other, there was an undeniable allure to the taboo. Yeji was the kind of girl that made heads turn, and the thought of being with her was like a siren's call. But what about Yuna? Would she even consider it? Would she be hurt? Angry? The more you thought about it, the more your head spun. You took a deep breath and tried to push the thoughts away.

But the devil on your shoulder whispered louder than the angel, and you couldn't resist. You turned to Alex, the heat of the room seeming to intensify. "Okay," you slurred, your voice betraying the excitement and fear that surged within you. "But only if you can convince Yuna to do it." You felt a rush of adrenaline as the words left your mouth. It was as if you had just tossed a match into a dry field and were watching the flames dance in the wind.

Alex's grin grew even wider as he nodded and disappeared into the crowd. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of exhilaration and trepidation. You stumbled back to the couch, trying to calm yourself. This was crazy. What were you thinking? But the alcohol had loosened your inhibitions, and the memory of the videos played on a loop in your mind's eye.

You saw Yuna across the room, her hair flying as she danced with her friends. She looked so alive, so free. You had to admit, the idea of seeing her with Alex was… interesting. You took another swig of your drink, the burning liquid doing little to quell the fire in your belly. What would she think? Would she be into it? The doubt gnawed at you, but the excitement grew stronger with each beat of the music.

Minutes ticked by, stretching into hours that felt like an eternity. The party swelled around you, a tapestry of sounds and colors that seemed to pulse in time with your racing thoughts. And then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Alex approaching, his gait slightly unsteady. His grin had grown, if that was even possible. "I talked to her," he shouted over the music, his hand clamping down on your shoulder. "She's down."

Your stomach flipped, a mix of anticipation and dread. This was really happening. You tried to stand, but your legs felt like jelly. Alex noticed your hesitation and laughed. "Don't worry," he said, slapping you on the back. "I'll go get her." He disappeared into the crowd again, leaving you to contemplate the gravity of what was about to unfold.

When they emerged, Yuna's cheeks were flushed, and she looked at you with a curious expression—part excitement, part confusion. Alex leaned in and whispered something in her ear, and her eyes went wide. Then, she looked at you, searching for confirmation. You nodded, still not fully understanding the decision you had made. She took your hand, her grip firm and reassuring, and led you both to a quieter corner of the party.

You stumbled down the hallway, the walls seeming to close in on you with every step. Finally, you found an unoccupied bedroom, the door slightly ajar. The room was dimly lit by the glow of a lava lamp, casting shadows across the unmade bed. Yuna pushed the door open, and the three of you tumbled inside, the music from the party muffled by the thickness of the walls.

Alex turned to you, his eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and challenge. "You can watch, but don't join in," he said firmly. "I don't do threesomes." The words hung in the air, a stark reminder that this was his show now. You nodded, unsure if you were relieved or disappointed. You didn't know if you could go through with it, but the idea of watching was somehow less daunting.

Yuna looked at you with a question in her eyes, and you gave her a reassuring smile, trying to convey that you were okay with this. She returned it, though it was tinged with nerves. The room was hot and stuffy, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and desire. Alex began to kiss her, his hands roaming over her body with a familiarity that made your stomach clench. You felt like a spectator at a play you hadn't signed up to see, but there was a strange fascination in watching the scene unfold.

Yuna's hands found their way to Alex's belt, her movements slow and deliberate. He moaned into her mouth as she unbuckled his pants, pulling him closer. You sat on the edge of the bed, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. The sight of your girlfriend with another man was both thrilling and terrifying, a heady mix of emotions that you had never felt before.

As Alex's hands began to unbutton Yuna's shirt, exposing her lacy black bra, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. But it was quickly overshadowed by a burning curiosity, the kind that made you want to see more. You watched, transfixed, as she unhooked the clasp and let the fabric fall away, revealing her perfect breasts. Her skin was glowing in the soft light, and she looked more beautiful than you had ever seen her.

Their kisses grew more passionate, tongues dancing together as they tugged at each other's clothes. Yuna's hands found Alex's chest, her nails digging in as she pulled his shirt over his head. His muscles rippled in the dim light, and you felt a strange pang of longing. You had never seen her look at anyone else the way she was looking at him now—hungry, desperate. It was intoxicating.

Alex laid her down on the bed, his weight pressing her into the mattress. You watched as he kissed a trail down her neck, his teeth grazing her collarbone. Yuna's eyes rolled back, and she let out a soft gasp. You could see the outline of his erection through his boxers, and the sight sent a jolt of electricity through you. Your own arousal grew, the blood rushing to your groin. You didn't know if it was because of the situation or because you were just that drunk, but you couldn't look away.

Yuna reached down and slid Alex's boxers off, her hand wrapping around his shaft. She began to stroke him, her movements slow and deliberate. His eyes closed, and he threw his head back with a groan. The sound was like a siren's call, beckoning you closer. You leaned in, your breathing shallow, watching as she brought him to full arousal. The sight was mesmerizing, and you felt your own pants growing tight.

Alex returned the favor, his fingers tracing the waistband of Yuna's jeans before unbuttoning and unzipping them. He slid them down her legs, revealing the matching black lace panties that left little to the imagination. His thumbs hooked under the elastic, and with a gentle tug, they were gone, leaving her bare and exposed. The room felt charged with sexual tension, like the air before a thunderstorm.

Yuna's eyes remained on you as Alex positioned himself between her thighs, his hand moving to stroke her gently. You could see the question in her gaze, the silent plea for reassurance. You gave her a nod, and she bit her bottom lip, her body arching slightly as he touched her. The sight of her enjoying another man's touch sent a jolt of arousal through you that was unlike anything you had ever felt before.

Alex leaned in, kissing Yuna deeply as his fingers found her wetness. You watched as he teased her, his thumb circling her clit while he slipped a finger inside her. The sounds of their passion grew louder, mixing with the muffled beats of the party outside. You could feel your own erection straining against your jeans, and the urge to touch yourself was almost overwhelming.

Yuna's hands moved to Alex's shoulders, gripping tightly as he worked her closer to the edge. Her breaths grew shallow, her hips bucking against his hand. You realized that you were holding your own breath, your body tense with anticipation. Then, without warning, she came, her back arching off the bed and a keening cry escaping her lips. It was the most erotic thing you had ever seen.

Alex pulled away from the kiss, a smug look on his face, and turned to you. "Look at her," he said, his voice thick with lust. "Look how much she wants this." You couldn't argue with that; Yuna's eyes were glazed with pleasure, and she was biting her lip to keep from crying out.

Without another word, he positioned himself at her entrance and pushed inside. Yuna gasped, her nails digging into the sheets as he filled her completely. You felt a strange mix of emotions excitement, arousal, and a twinge of pain that was almost indistinguishable from jealousy. But as he began to move, you couldn't deny the raw beauty of it. The way her body moved with his, the way she moaned with each stroke it was mesmerizing.

You reached down and unzipped your own pants, freeing your erection. You began to stroke yourself in time with their rhythm, the sight of them together pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Yuna's eyes flicked to you, her gaze locking onto yours as Alex took her. The connection was intense, a silent communication that spoke of love and lust and trust.

Alex picked up the pace, fucking Yuna like a rag doll. Each thrust was punctuated by her gasps, her body bouncing with the force of his movements. You watched as he took her, his muscles flexing with each plunge. It was like watching a car crash—you couldn't look away, even though part of you wanted to. You felt a strange mix of emotions—arousal, yes, but also a fierce protectiveness. This was your girlfriend, and she was being used in a way that you hadn't quite anticipated.

But then, she opened her mouth, and the words that spilled out were anything but innocent. "Fuck me harder," she begged, her voice raw with lust. "Make me scream." Alex complied, his hips slamming into hers with a ferocity that made the bed shake. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his eyes locked on hers. "You like having me inside you?"

Yuna's only response was a breathless nod, her eyes glazed with pleasure. "Yes," she moaned, her voice a sultry whisper that seemed to echo in the small room. "Oh God, yes." The dirty talk grew more intense, their words a symphony of passion that seemed to fill the air. "You're so tight," Alex grunted, his strokes growing deeper. "You feel amazing."

Yuna's legs wrapped around his waist, her heels digging into his back as she urged him on. "Don't stop," she pleaded, her nails leaving red marks on his skin. "I want more." The sight of her like this, lost in the throes of passion with someone else, was both exhilarating and unsettling. You felt like an intruder in your own relationship, yet you couldn't look away.

Alex leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. "Beg me to cum inside you," he whispered, his voice low and commanding. Yuna's eyes snapped to yours, the question in them clear. You nodded, the alcohol making your decision-making process feel like you were underwater. She swallowed hard and then, with a look of pure wantonness, she did as he asked.

"Please, Alex," she whimpered, her voice trembling with desire. "I want you to cum inside me. Right in front of him." You watched as she tightened her legs around his waist, her hips grinding against him. "Fuck me so hard that he can feel it."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but instead of pain, you felt a surge of arousal. You had never seen Yuna like this before—so raw, so uninhibited. It was as if the alcohol had stripped away her inhibitions and laid bare her deepest desires. You could feel your own orgasm building, your hand moving faster over your shaft.

Alex took her at her word, his thrusts growing more frantic, more demanding. You watched as he buried himself inside her, his muscles tensing with the effort. Yuna's eyes never left yours, the connection between you both electric. She was giving herself to him, and yet, she was offering you something more—a glimpse into a side of her you had never seen.

With a final, guttural groan, Alex came, his release filling Yuna completely. She let out a shuddering breath, her body going slack. For a moment, the room was silent, save for the heavy panting of the two on the bed. Then, the music from the party outside crashed back in, a stark reminder that the world hadn't stopped spinning.

Alex pulled out, and without missing a beat, he looked at Yuna, his eyes gleaming with a wickedness that sent a shiver down your spine. "Now, clean me up," he instructed, his voice still thick with arousal. She nodded, her eyes never leaving yours as she sat up and took him into her mouth. You watched, your hand still moving on your own erection, the sight of her pleasuring him like a drug.

He leaned back against the headboard, his eyes half-closed with pleasure. "Mm, that's good," he murmured. He turned to you, his grin turning wicked. "I'll give Yeji a call tomorrow and tell her about our little arrangement," he said, his hand moving to the back of Yuna's head, guiding her movements.

You nodded, unable to find the words to protest. The sight of Yuna's lips wrapped around Alex's cock was too much. You watched as he played with her tits, squeezing and pinching her nipples as she bobbed up and down. Her eyes were on you the whole time, filled with a mix of lust and something else—something you couldn't quite place.

As Alex grew closer to climax, you felt your own body responding. Your hand moved faster, the friction of your palm against your skin almost painful. You could feel the heat building in your balls, the tension coiling tighter and tighter.

Then, with a final, powerful thrust, Alex pulled out of Yuna's mouth, his cum spurting out in thick ropes that arced through the air and painted her face and chest. Yuna's eyes widened, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into it, letting him cover her in his release. It was a moment of pure, unbridled lust, and you couldn't tear your gaze away.

The sight was too much for you to bear. With a grunt, you came too, your own cum splattering onto the floor between your feet. The sensation was overwhelming, the pressure that had been building for what felt like an eternity finally released in a hot, sticky mess. Your body shuddered with the intensity of your climax, and you felt a strange sense of relief mingled with embarrassment.

Alex chuckled, watching you with a smug look on his face. He reached down and grabbed Yuna's chin, tilting her face up so that his cock was in line with her mouth again. "Open wide," he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. She did as she was told, her eyes never leaving yours as he rubbed his still-hard length across her face, smearing his cum over her cheeks and nose.

You felt a strange mix of emotions—humiliation, arousal, and something else you couldn't quite put your finger on. The act was so degrading, so animalistic, and yet there was a part of you that couldn't look away. It was like watching a scene from a porn movie, but this was real, and it was happening right in front of you.

Alex chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours as he continued to rub his cock on Yuna's face. Her cheeks were sticky with his cum, and her eyes were filled with a mix of lust and submission. You could see the way she was fighting to maintain eye contact, her own desires warring with what you had just witnessed.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, Alex stood up and began to dress. His movements were lazy and deliberate, as if he was savoring every second of his victory. He wiped his hand on the bedspread and turned to you, his smile never wavering. "I'll call you tomorrow about the arrangement," he said, his voice low and smug. "We'll figure out the details then."

Yuna remained on the bed, her legs still trembling slightly. She didn't move as Alex zipped up his pants and pulled on his shirt, the fabric sticking to his sweaty skin. You couldn't tell if it was from the exertion of the act or the humiliation of what had just transpired.

Once Alex was fully dressed, he leaned down and kissed her forehead, leaving the smears of his cum on her skin. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice softer than you had ever heard it. Then, without another word, he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

[gilbertscurls]

single ladies — matt sturniolo

The music pulsed through the dimly lit club, neon lights flickering in sync with the beat as Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies” blasted through the speakers. The crowd was a sea of dancing bodies, energy buzzing in the air. You were in the center of it all, your body moving effortlessly to the rhythm, your laughter contagious as you danced with your friends.

Matt leaned against the bar, watching you with a tight jaw. His arms were crossed, eyes following your every move. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy as you swayed, especially as the iconic lyric hit. All the single ladies now put your hands up. You threw your hands up, imitating the move with a grin, your eyes sparkling under the lights.

Matt couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed off the bar and made his way through the crowd toward you. You were mid-laugh, flipping your hair back when he reached your side.

“Really?” Matt asked, raising an eyebrow. His voice was barely heard over the music, but the annoyance in his tone was clear.

You turned to him, still dancing, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “What’s the problem, babe?” you teased, still swaying your hips to the beat.

Matt gestured toward the speakers as if the song explained everything. “You're really out here dancing to this song, while I’m right here?”

You laughed, stepping closer to him, your hands resting on his chest playfully. “Matt, it’s just a song,” you said, your voice light and teasing. “And besides…” You leaned in, your lips close to his ear. “You haven’t put a ring on it, have you?”

His eyes narrowed, but he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. You always knew how to push his buttons, and in a way, that made him love you more. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

You grinned, pulling back to meet his eyes. “Maybe,” you admitted with a wink, your fingers trailing down his arm before you grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the dance floor. “Come on, stop sulking and dance with me.”

Matt sighed but let you drag him along. As you found your rhythm together, your body pressed against his, his frustration faded. You were right — it was just a song. But still, the thought of you dancing to those lyrics would stick with him for a while.

“You really think you're funny, don’t you?” he muttered, leaning down to speak into your ear.

You smiled up at him, eyes gleaming. “I think I'm hilarious.” You lifted his hand and twirled yourself under his arm. “But maybe if you put a ring on it, you wouldn’t have to worry.”

Matt smirked, pulling you close again, his hand resting on your waist. “Maybe I will,” he said, his voice low. “Then you’ll have no excuse.”

Your laughter rang out as the song ended, leaving a promise hanging between you.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @straw8berry, @shadowthesim, @courta13, @frankdelreyy

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥

ceo!sukuna x secretary!reader, modern au

tags: degradation, daddy kink, dirty talk, fingering, spanking, true form sukuna notes: minors dni, one sequel to "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘉𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘴𝘴" - you decided to not text your boss Sukuna wc: 1.3k

Sukuna was fuming with rage as he sat at his work desk, eyes glued on his door waiting for you to finally come in. He gave you his private number, a number no one got (since he mainly fucked women at work anyway) and you didn’t call him? Not even bother to sent a message? Did you even save his number? Sukuna's rage was a tempest, a storm swirling within him, threatening to burst forth and consume everything in its path. His fists clenched so tight that his knuckles turned bone-white, his jaw tensed, muscles coiling like springs ready to snap. Each breath he took felt like fire searing his lungs, fueling the inferno of his fury.

It wasn't just anger; it was a primal force, raw and unbridled. How could you crawl over to him like a slut and then just ghost him. After he left the bar he couldn’t even get his cock soft – it waited to be buried deep inside your cunt. Suddenly (and finally) his door opened and you walked into the room, your eyes staring at the floor.

“Good morning, sir”, you greeted him sheepishly.

“Lock the fucking door and come over here, now.”

Your boss didn’t even bother to hide his anger and you were smart enough not to question his mood. Without a word you walked over to his desk. His red eyes were burning holes into your skin.

“Why didn’t you text me? I told you to do that”, Sukuna stood up, his fingers tapping on his wooden desk as he moved closer to you.

“I don’t think that would have been appropriate, sir.”

As the words hit his ears, a surge of anger coursed through Sukuna's veins like a bolt of lightning. The sentence struck him with the force of a physical blow. His jaw clenched so tight it felt as though his teeth might shatter under the pressure. A torrent of emotions roiled within him, a turbulent sea of indignation and frustration threatening to engulf him entirely. How could you dare utter such words, he seethed inwardly, feeling his temper flare hotter with each passing moment. Every fiber of his being screamed for retribution, for a release of the pent-up rage festering within him. Yet, beneath the anger, there simmered a sense of hurt, a wounded pride that stoked the flames of his fury even higher.

“Inappropriate, huh?” Sukuna's heart pounded with an adrenaline-fueled rhythm as he pressed you against his workdesk, his palm firmly planted beside you, caging you in. The suddenness of his action caught you off guard, your eyes widening in surprise before a flicker of excitement danced within you. His gaze bore into yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine, a silent declaration of desire. The scent of your perfume filled his senses, intoxicating him further as he leaned in.

“You know what’s inappropriate? All the times you went on break just to rub your little pussy after I praised you. The way you press your legs together in an attempt to not cum all over the place after I yell at colleagues who fuck up their work. You think I’m dumb, little one?”

Sukuna's lips grazed your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. The faintest touch of his lips against your skin ignited a fire within you, a wave of sensation coursing through your body like electricity. His kisses were rough and urgent, each one leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His grip tightened on your arm, a rough urgency in his movements as he spun you around, your back now pressed firmly against Sukuna’s chest. The suddenness of his action caused your breath to catch in your throat, your heart racing with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. His touch was possessive yet intoxicating, sending a jolt of desire coursing through your veins. With your back against him, you could feel the heat of his body, the strength of his embrace and his hard cock pressing against your ass.

“You need to be punished, baby, Was waiting for you the night to text me”, he whispered into your ears before taking a step back, “Bend over the desk, slut.”

As you leaned over your boss's desk, the air seemed to crackle with tension. Your movements were graceful, yet purposeful, the lines of your silhouette casting a spell of allure. With each subtle shift, the fabric of your blouse hugged your curves, your skirt rocking up, teasingly revealing hints of the allure beneath. Sukuna, momentarily captivated by the sight before him, struggled to maintain his composure and not just fuck you right there and then.

“You’ve been a bad girl”, all of sudden, without any kind of warning, his hand smacked down on your ass, earning a small squeal, “You a little cocktease, huh? Knew damn well how fucking soaked you got after our simple kiss and then you decided to not text me after?”

“I-I’m sorry, sir”, he whimpered as another blow hit your ass. Sukuna pulled your skirt down to the ground, exposing your behind. Now it would start to hurt.

“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it, baby. I wanted to fill you up real good last night. I would have come over just to let you bounce on my cock. Beg for forgiveness, slut.”  And once again he smacked your ass.

“I’m sorry” Another blow. “Pl-please…Please forgive me, Mr. Sukuna.” Another blow. Your ass was turning red at this point. “I’m begging you pl–please…ahh.” That moan was everything Sukuna needed to hear – so needy and eager, he imagined you would love for him to manhandle you like this. Such a dirty whore.

You were a begging, trembling mess before him and he loved every inch of the view. Grinning he reached his hand out, his finger grazing over your thong covered slit. “Soaked through your panties already, baby? That’s all it got? Some dirty talk and spanking? Want daddy to help you out?”

Self-respect? Professionalism? Everything left your body as soon as he called himself daddy. “Yes, please help me out, daddy.”

“Now you’re a good girl.” Sukuna pulled your thong down and you groaned as you felt him use his finger to circle your clit. Seemed like daddy knew your body well, knew the pressure and the patterns that could turn you into a stuttering and groaning mess. When he dipped his fingers inside of you, you shifted slightly to make him go deeper. His fingers fucked you open so well, deepening his strokes to rub your g-spot and draw you closer to the edge. You felt yourself give in to him, becoming more wet as he continued touching your clit and pumping his fingers into your sloppy cunt as well.

“You’re so fucking wet for me. Can you hear it? How my fingers ram in and out of your slutty hole, huh? Clenching me so well, sucking me in. Tell daddy what you want, little one, tell me.”

“D–daddy…please, please fuck me”, Sukuna never stopped fingering your hole and restarted spanking your ass, “I need your cock, daddy, ahh– I’m begging you to fill me up.”

You heard Sukuna unzipping his pants, something warm now pushing against your entrance about to replace his fingers.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, you’ll call me your god.”

Maybe you were way too horny and desperate, losing touch with reality because suddenly you felt two hands grabbing your waist while two other hands wrapped around your body and cupped your tits. Sukuna rammed his cock into your pussy but you could feel something even thicker and bigger laying on your ass.

“You’re my favorite human, little one.”

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Y! Young Justice (the og) x villain! reader

You twist, defiant even now, and they feel it—their adversary, their ghost, the one who slipped from their grasp with a laugh on the wind, now held tight. Tonight, the uncatchable is caught, and their silent victory thrums like a heartbeat in the air around you.

Kaldur’s water binds hold fast, yet there’s a strange gentleness as he looks at you, eyes deep as the sea he commands. His grip is sure but reverent, each ripple around your wrists a silent hymn to the dance you’ve led him through, chase after chase, like a lover drawn to shore by the moon. His eyes are an ocean, quiet and unfathomable, but tonight there’s no mistaking the longing within them—a soft, undulating desire to hold what he’s finally claimed.

Wally stands close, not taunting but transfixed, his smirk softer than usual, as though he’s taken his place beside you at last. You’ve always been the thrill, the pulse in his veins, the rush of the wind at his back. The quicksilver desire he’s buried comes to the surface, flickering like light itself as he watches you now. There’s something poetic in his gaze, like a line of verse held just for you, words spinning in the silence as his fingers twitch, yearning to trace every inch of the face he’s only seen in blurs of speed.

Robin moves with precision, binding you with a care that’s more art than security. His eyes linger on every knot, every inch of skin beneath his gloved fingers, crafting his hold as if sculpting something sacred, every tie a testament to the chase that brought you to this point. He’s not simply holding you down; he’s committing you to memory, carving his mark into every second. The vigilante has become a poet, each knot in his rope a line in the unspoken sonnet he’s woven around you.

Conner watches with an intensity that goes beyond duty, his protective instincts woven with the depth of a soul that’s finally found something worth holding. His admiration is fierce, a silent ode to the strength you’ve shown against him time and again. The quiet in his gaze is the chorus he’s always sung for you—a promise etched in steel, a love wrapped in the strength he wields, silent but unbreakable. He’d turn worlds to dust before letting you slip away again.

Above, M’gann floats with a gentle, boundless reverence, her empathy a quiet lullaby echoing through your mind. There’s a depth to her gaze, a wish to hold you safe, to shield you from every shadow. Her presence wraps around you, the warmth of a song without words, each glance a silent lyric, a promise she wants to whisper only for you. Her thoughts spill over, her devotion filling every corner of your mind like a quiet symphony, promising to keep you safe, her heart’s song bound to you.

And Artemis, fierce and unwavering, watches from the edge, her gaze sharper than any arrow she’s ever shot. The smirk that once mocked you has softened into something reverent. She’s a huntress who’s caught her elusive prey, but there’s no more need for the chase. She wants to keep you close, to pull you into her orbit as if you were a star meant to be drawn to her. Her pride for you is fierce, unbending; her eyes drink you in like an anthem she’s claimed for herself.

Each of them stands close, a circle drawn tight, their poetry woven around you, their gazes fierce and unbreakable. You’re no longer simply their rival—you’re a muse, their song, the obsession they’ve crafted verse by verse in their minds. They’ve turned the chase into a masterpiece, and now, their poem is complete: you’re here, captured by verses only they can write, bound to them in a love that echoes like a heartbeat.

(A/n: when will I make a real story? I think never)

[pixiepipedreams]

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — shaky like the first time our palms met in the clam sweat, heavy focus // in-ho x reader

♡  ⁄  pairing: in-ho x reader ♡  ⁄  warnings & tags: fem!reader, canon-typical violence & death, obsessive behavior, lying/manipulation, age gap (reader is 20-22, in-ho & gi-hun are late 40s, early 50s), watched/touched in sleep, mature themes, references to sex, anxiety + coping mechanisms ♡  ⁄ wordcount: 5k ♡  ⁄ summary: the second day of the games prevents you from ending up on in-ho and gi-hun's team. it's a mistake that won't be repeated. the least he can do is try to teach you how to play your assigned mini-game. (sorry, we kinda lost the hints of gi-hun x reader in this chapter, but it'll make a return!) THIS IS PART TWO OF A SERIES! (➊) (➌)

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

You fell asleep with his hand in your hair, your meandering thoughts only brushing the surface of questioning his own motivations for such a gentle comfort. Young-il is an interesting man, and he's certainly caught your attention - more than you'd admit to. Your dreams offer you respite instead of garish nightmares about the first game, dancing atop a river, the water like silk under your bare toes.

In-ho stays longer than he should. The way you fall asleep so quickly under his touch, despite being a self-proclaimed insomniac, only makes that protective pull in his chest grow stronger. He allows himself his moment of weakness - he already had his conversation with Gi-hun tonight, already fulfilled the daily quotient for his own personal mission. So he allows himself this, this quiet moment of watching you sleep - too long for it to be appropriate, but the only people that will know besides himself are the guards watching the cameras tonight. He's sure to give the closest camera a harsh, leveling glare once you fall asleep. He's still the Front Man, under it all. It also means he knows what angle to turn his head so they can't see any hints of tenderness in his already closely guarded expression. At one point, his hand slips from your hair, tracing down the line of your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, dipping inside. He catches himself - not as quickly as he should, but quick enough to prevent the stirring of arousal to turn into full on hardness. At some point, he finds himself almost falling asleep, his head resting on the bed next to you, and he forces himself to get up, leave your side, and returns to his own bed. And if he falls asleep only thinking of you, fighting down an erection, well... he's the only one who will ever know.

The morning is rung in with the sound of jarring music, too light-hearted for such a dark place, and an announcer calling the players to prepare for today's game. Your dreams fade quickly, and you blink awake, eyes scanning the room on instinct. You hadn't forgotten where you were, but the odd peace in your chest feels out of place.

It takes you a moment to realize you're looking for Young-il.

You can't spot him in the sea of black haired men and women, and it surprises you just how much disappointment rises in your chest. The guards call for the players to line up. You walk down the metal stairs, slipping into one of the lines.

Finally, your eyes land on Young-il. He's standing in a separate line with Gi-hun's group, which faintly surprises you. After what happened yesterday, you didn't expect for Gi-hun to willingly take in any of the people with a circle on their chest. But Young-il isn't the only one in their little group who voted to continue the games, and you feel a strange pull, like you should join them. You don't. You feel out of place, like you don't entirely belong with them. Maybe it's some residual insecurity from youth, but you stay where you are, eyes lingering on Young-il as he talks intensely with them.

The guards lead all the players out of the dormitories, into the brightly colored great hall. Yesterday, you had found it strange, on your way to the first game - the strange layout, the colorful walls. Today, you find it garish. Images flash behind your eyes, blood splattered in the dirt, a giant plastic doll with all-seeing eyes. Panic threatens to overtake you, and you take a shuddering breath, forcing yourself to focus on what you can see, take in the details.

You were never one for pastels, but you do like the shades of pink and green. Not your favorite, but striking on their own, if you focus on them one at a time instead of their disjointed clash. The architecture is fascinating, and you find yourself wondering what kind of person designed this place. For some reason, you picture a woman, older, nostalgic. You doubt that her own home would have a similar design, but it would be unique, fascinating. No dull corner.

By the time you reach the arena, your chest has settled, your stomach no longer in knots. The doors in front of you open, and you're led into a wide, open area. The walls are decorated with images and writings that imitate an elementary school. It makes sense, with the childish themes you've seen so far in these games. There are two circular rainbow tracks in the ground, and you focus on that, trying to discern what it could mean for the game you're about to play. The tracks could mean some kind of race? Perhaps a relay, where each member has to run the track before passing off the baton? There's five colors, so would that mean five players?

"Welcome to your second game," comes the woman's voice over the speakers. "This game will be played in teams. Please divide into teams of five in the next ten minutes. Let me repeat."

Teams of five. You must be onto something. You were never good at running, but if you had to sprint for a short period, just once around the track, you could manage it. It would be advantageous to find a fit team, but the men would be less likely to take a woman in, with their own biases against the so-called inferior gender.

You're lost in thought when you catch the tail end of an argument nearby. "You can’t have the baby unless you make it out of here alive.

"I don’t trust you. You’re dead to me."

Looking over to the source of the voices, you spy a woman walking away from player 333 - that youtuber that Thanos fought yesterday, if you recall correctly. The woman's stomach bulges, even though she hides it under her tracksuit jacket - definitely pregnant. All of you are here for your own reasons, but she definitely doesn't belong here, and the 'X' on her chest fills you with guilt for putting her life on the line for a chance at getting enough money to settle your father's sins. Your heart aches for her, and before you can think better of it, you approach her.

"Can I help you find a team?" you ask abruptly, stopping her in her tracks. She looks at you warily, like she's not one to accept help, compelled to take care of herself alone. It's a look you're all too familiar with, one that lingers in your eyes behind your bathroom mirror.

"I don't need your help," she mutters, moving to push past you. You grab her wrist - firm, but not tight, eyes searching her face.

"Please. It'll be hard, to convince a team to let a woman in... let alone one of your condition. I can help." A comforting smile traces your lips. "I can be very persuasive if I need to be."

She hesitates, but it's enough. Self-preservation wins, in a place like this. The nod she gives you is small, but it's enough. Your hand slips into hers, and you tug her along.

Most teams don't even meet your eyes, and the few that you do approach together dismiss you quickly. Some of their expressions hold a trace of guilt, likely wondering if their denial will be sending the two of you to your deaths, but it's not enough. Self-preservation. Selfishness.

Maybe greed.

You try to stay optimistic, but the timer still ticks down. Eyes scan the room, desperation pinching at your chest, a frantic flutter to your heart, but you don't let it show on your expression. Just like before, in the dormitories, it takes you a moment to realize what you're really looking for, who's face you need to find. But this time, you find him quickly, smiling amiably with his group. There's no time for hesitation, your body pushing through the room, player 222 dragged behind you. When you finally come to a stop in front of them, your eyes flick from Young-il to Gi-hun. "Can she join you?" you ask, slightly breathless, 222 still behind you.

"Sorry, we've already got five people," one of them says, but your eyes are on Gi-hun's, searing. He owes you nothing, but you know he cares about the players in this game, that every death burrows deep into his heart. His eyes are weary, hesitant, but he doesn't break your gaze.

"Please," you say, stepping to the side. "She's pregnant." Your voice is determined, firm, and shock flashes through the group of men. Gi-hun's lips part, but he doesn't speak, perhaps stunned into silence. Hesitation.

There's no time.

You finally look at Young-il again, to find that he's studying you. There's surprise in his expression, but not even a hint of uncertainty. His eyes are intense, like always, and there's an edge of something... concern? Curiosity? Fascination? He's hard to read again, his face no longer easy to read in a group of people.

"Of course, she can join us," he says quietly, taking charge, eyes searching yours. You nod, relief seeping into your shoulders, and you release her hand.

"What about you?" 222 asks, catching your gaze before you walk away. Your eyes flick to the timer on the wall - thirty seconds.

"I'll figure something out," you mutter, then rush off.

It doesn't take long, this time, to find a group standing uncertainly, with only four members. The older woman and her son, a timid looking girl, and a tall woman who carries a certain strength that you instantly respect. It's not an ideal group, but you don't have time to be picky.

"Let me join you?" The words spill out, your own desperation probably obvious, but you're willing to bet they're just as desperate as you are.

10 seconds. The tall woman, player 120, looks at you, only pausing for a moment before responding. "Yes."

"Thank you," you say, bowing your head slightly, your shoulders sagging in relief. It doesn't last long. The announcer's voice rings out, silencing the chatter of the room. Time is up.

The guards call for the teams to sit in the center of each circle, lined up in your groups. Almost by design, Gi-hun and Young-il's team ends up next to yours, Young-il directly next to you with a gap separating you. Sitting with crossed legs in the dirt makes you feel like you're in kindergarten again, sitting on a multi-colored rug, surrounded by peers.

The announcer's voice again. "The game you will be playing is Six-Legged Pentathlon. You will start with your legs tied together. Each member will take turns playing a mini-game at every ten meter mark, and if you win, the team can move on to the next one. Here are the mini-games. Number one, the Ddakji. Number two, Flying Stone. Number three, Gonggi. Number four, Spinning Top. Number five, Jegi. Your goal is to win all the mini-games and cross the finish line in five minutes. Please decide players for each mini-game."

The blood drains from your face. You have an idea of what Spinning Top could be, but the only game listed that you're familiar with is Ddakji from your time with the recruiter. You can still feel the sting of every slap from your losses. You weren't good. Everyone in the room starts strategizing urgently, but all you can concentrate on - and concentrate is the wrong word entirely, your mind clouded with dread - is the way your thoughts swirl into darkness. If your team dies, it'll be because of you - not because of the trembling player 095, or the frail mother. You're the weak link, unskilled in these children's games, dragging everyone down into blood-soaked dirt with you.

"(Y/N)," Young-il whispers, reaching out to put his hand on your knee. The touch is like a jolt, and you almost flinch, your eyes instantly flicking up to meet his. It must be obvious, your panic. "I told you I'd help you, didn't I? We'll figure this out," he says, his eyes imploring you, your entire world focusing into his narrowed gaze.

You take a shaky breath, eyes scanning his face, trying to notice every detail, small features to adore. The crinkled lines by his eyes, evidence of a happier time. Bags under his eyes, and dark eyes that have the power to hold anyone in place. Aged skin, but smooth, soft looking. Bushy eyebrows. A hint of stubble. The shape of his lips...

The caged bird in your chest settles, and your next breath is a deep one. You nod slightly, eyes meeting his, and something in his expression eases. "I trust you," you murmur.

Something a little darker enters his eyes, but it's gone in a flash, like it was never there to begin with.

He lets go of your leg, turning to his team, but the calm in your body stays.

"Player 132," 120 calls to you, capturing your attention. "Do you know any of the games?"

You hesitate, then tentatively say, "I only know Ddakji... and I wasn't very good, against the recruiter."

120 looks oddly sympathetic, but there's a determined edge to the anxiety in her eyes. "Alright. Flying Stone is pretty simple - you throw a stone at another stone, trying to knock it over. Gonggi is definitely out - that requires years of practice--"

"I can do Gonggi," the older woman says firmly, leaving no room for argument. 120 nods.

"Jegi is simple. You kick a weighted paper jegi in the air a set amount of times, not letting it hit the ground. Spinning Top requires some skill, but it's not too hard to master, just requires calm hands and speed. You wrap some twine around a top, then throw it to the ground, trying to get it to spin."

"Uh-- could I take Flying Stone? I've never been good at jegi, and I don't have the precision for Spinning Top," player 007, the son, cuts in, looking a little nervous.

"That leaves Spinning Top and Jegi. Are you good with your feet?" 120 asks, not even skipping a beat. You have to admire her resolve - it's comforting, how she takes control. You're so used to handling everything yourself, that it helps to have someone else who knows what they're doing.

You shake your head slightly. Admittedly, the only game that you thought you had a good chance at was Flying Stone. You've always been clumsy from the waist down, and you've never played hacky-sack, which Jegi reminds you of. 120 stares at you for a moment, then nods. "It's decided, then. You take Spinning Top." Her eyes flick to player 095, and they begin discussing who should take Ddakji and who should take Jegi.

You stare at the ground, hoping your team doesn't get called first. If you get to watch a group play Spinning Top first, maybe you'll have a chance.

As the room settles again, the announcer's voice crackles over the speakers, instantly capturing your breath. The guards gesture for a group from each side to get to their feet, and you sigh in relief - you're not first. As the teams line up and get buckled together, Young-il murmurs your name. You look over instantly, your nervous eyes locked with his. "I got Spinning Top too," he murmurs. "Let me teach you how to play."

You smile, but it's barely a quirk of lips. "We don't have a top," you remind him.

"It's all about the motion," he says intensely. "You can do this."

It's the best chance you have, and you find yourself nodding.

As the game starts for the first groups, Young-il goes into explaining how to correctly wrap the twine. "The first thing you do is wind the twine around the axle. From there, you wanna wrap it tightly around the first three loops." He mimics the wrapping motion, and you nod, trying to visualize it. It's definitely different than it is in America - there are no grooves for any kind of twine back home, just the axle to spin the top from. "You wrap the rest of the twine, and then hold the end of it tightly - tightly - between your pinky and ring finger. It puts the top on a leash, gives you control." One of the teams succeeds in a game, and you glance over, the cheers of your side calling for your attention. "Hey. Eyes on me," Young-il says, firm and commanding, and your breath catches. You couldn't even dream of disobeying, your head snapping to look back at him. His lips quirk, almost forming a smirk, but it's gone as soon as it came. "The next part is all about speed. You hold the top in your hand, then flick your wrist out, throwing it. With the twine still between your fingers, you pull your hand back quickly, almost like a snap." He mimes the motion - flicking his wrist, then pulling his hand back. It's a fast movement, one that makes your own hand shake. You can't do this, there's no way you can be good enough at this game to pass before time runs out. Anxiety seizes your chest, and you take a few quick breaths, staring at his hand. Details. Focus. Smooth palms, square in shape. Rounded, well-maintained fingernails. Deep lines over the shape of his knuckles. Strong hands, that he only needed one of to take down a grown man.

You wonder what those hands would feel like, tracing the shape of your skin.

The thought startles you, but at least you've regained some steadiness. Your heart thumps for an entirely different reason now. One hand reaches out to cup the back of yours, almost gently, and you feel a shiver run down your spine, despite everything. The same hand that pet your hair until you fell asleep, perfectly at peace. His other hand reaches out to take your wrist. He curls your fingers for you, holding an invisible top, and shows your hand the movement slowly. Then again. His palm is warm, but his fingers are cold, and if your dizzy mind weren't already devoting all its energy to the task at hand, you'd find it poetic, metaphorical.

He gestures for you to try the motion again, and you do. You repeat the movement over and over, until the speed comes naturally to you.

Hope enters your chest, the sun dawning through the blinds, and when you look up at Young-il again, he has a small, proud smile on his face.

One of the team reaches the Spinning Top phase, and you turn your head, watching with rapt interest, finally seeing what had only been an image in your mind before. The man playing isn't very good - on his first throw, it simply clatters to the ground. Your chest clenches in sympathy. The team has to march again to pick it up.

"Hmm. I think messing up Spinning Top is gonna take even longer to recover from," player 290 leans over to say to Young-il. He narrows his eyes at him as he leans away, and your heart pounds. It's not comforting.

"Ignore him," Young-il mutters to you.

You nod faintly, focusing on the team as they get back into position.

The games continue. The timer runs down. It feels like every second passing is a needle in your gut, pinpricks of pain and nerves. And just like that - time runs out. The panicked cries of the players on the tracks fills you with dread, and you make a small, wounded noise. Young-il grabs your arm, tugging you until you almost fall over yourself into the dirt, pulling you against him. He hides your face in his chest, but you can still hear the begging, and then-- the gunshots.

You bury your face in his chest as he strokes your hair, trying to soothe you again. It doesn't work like it did last night. Distantly, you wonder if this is even allowed, but no guards command him to let go of you, or for you to go back to your spot. You take the comfort, eyes squeezed shut. No tears come, just a hollowness in your chest as he presses his face into the top of your head.

The guards clean up the bodies. Eventually, Young-il pushes your head lightly. The coast must be clear, but you're reluctant. Still, you let him. He cups your cheek, holding your face so you can look into his eyes. "It won't happen to you," he says firmly, his voice hushed, urgent. "I won't let it."

You give a dry laugh, humorless. "You wouldn't be able to prevent it, not in this game," you whisper. Focus. Details. The warmth of his hand, the fire hidden in the depths of his eyes, where his expression is usually so cold. The twist of his lips, not quite a frown, but something more determined. His hair, falling over his forehead.

You breathe. Once. Twice.

"Players 007, 095, 120, 132, 149." A guard is standing at the end of our row, his masked face directed at your group. Young-il lets you go, and you only tremble slightly as you get to your feet.

"I believe in you. You can do this," he says, one last parting gift of comfort, and you try to believe him too.

You're led to the track, taking your place on the blue line. Your legs get shackled together, and you try your damnedest not to think of anything at all. You're between 120 and 149, the tall woman and the old one. You link arms, feeling for all the world like you're being sentenced to death.

In-ho stares at you as you walk away, knowing there's not much he can do to prevent your death if you fail in this game. It's a mistake that won't be repeated. Despite your surges of anxiety, you'd surprised him with your focus, with the way your panic eased the longer your eyes traced over him. It made him feel... important. He's already important, it shouldn't matter. He leads these games, is always in control, but he'd never factored in an American girl with a strong will, with searching eyes that seemed to take comfort in him and him alone. He catches the gaze of a nearby guard, his eyes holding a warning, a threat. If you die, he will personally ensure that any guard or player that had a hand in it will die too. When he's sure the message is received, loud and clear, he looks back at you, in time to see your head turn, your eyes finding his. He offers no expression of comfort, just his intensity, that possessiveness that settles deep in his very soul. If you, or one of your teammates fails this game, he'll still have to watch you be shot, albeit non-fatally. Painful, but necessarily. He doesn't feel as in control of himself as he usually does, or as in control of the games, and the dark part of him finds it thrilling, new. It's not new. Another remnant of the man he used to be, but the lack of control is so foreign now, like a childhood friend he hasn't seen since high school, finding him once more. Every other part of him is frozen, holding its breath, waiting for the verdict on your demise.

Your eyes find Young-il's, his gaze locked on you. His expression is unreadable, but you have a feeling he won't take his eyes off you, and it almost feels like he's your guardian angel. The guards finish chaining you together, and you look forward, daring to hope.

The pentathlon starts.

The first game is Ddakji. Player 095's trembling hands hold the folded paper, and you wonder how a girl like her ended up here. She can't be much younger than you, but still, you feel a decade older watching her.

She doesn't flip the ddakji on the first throw. She picks it up again, and you're distantly surprised her fumbling fingers don't just drop it in the attempt. Another throw. Another miss. She picks it up. Your stomach sinks as she misses the next one, too, but then 120 throws her a bone, a tip. 095 throws the paper again. It flips.

"Pass."

The crowd cheers for you, and your team moves on, marching in time with the beat of your heart. Game two, Flying Stone. One of the first two teams didn't even get past it. 007 takes the stone that's handed to him. He throws it, misses. 120 calls out, organizing your march forward. You stop in front of the stone, and he leans down, grabs it.

"Okay! Now, we go backwards!"

All of you chant the march of your steps backwards, until you end up behind the line again. None of you can afford the time loss of him missing again, especially you, when you haven't even played your own mini-game before. You find yourself calling out encouragements, words that are almost meaningless. His mother grabs him, murmuring something about pretending that the stone is the face of someone who wronged him. His face contorts, he winds his hand back. A cry of words is wrenched from him, like a battle call, and he throws the stone.

The other stone falls.

"Pass."

The crowd cries up, the excitement of everyone growing, but you can only focus on marching forward to the next game. Gonggi. Only one away from your turn. You all kneel together on the ground. This is the game you know the least about, and as the older woman starts, you find yourself fascinated by the movement of her hand. She fumbles, a piece drops.

"Mom, you said you played Gonggi with bullets during the Korean War," her son says urgently, and the reminder seems to light a fire in her. She lasers in like you've never seen from a woman her age as she starts again. You don't understand the game, but the quick and nimble movement of her frail hands impresses you, gripping your lungs. You don't breathe, just watching, mesmerized. The pieces are thrown into the air, then land on the back of her hand. Her son speaks again, giving her the same lifeline he'd given her, something to imagine, to motivate.

The pieces are tossed up.

She catches them in her fist.

"Pass."

The crowd roars, and you almost stumble as you get back to her feet. It's your game next, but the determination of your team, the palpable excitement in the room, infects you like the best kind of virus. You come to a stop, and 120 releases your arm as you take the top and twine. Your fingers are surprisingly steady as you wrap the end of it around the axle, your mind on Young-il. The first three loops are wrapped tightly, and you finish winding it, eyes zeroed in on every movement.

You arch your arm, preparing to throw it.

As you move, though, your eyes catch on the blood on the ground, from the team before you. You falter. It doesn't help that you didn't grip the twine tight enough between your fingers, and it slips from your hands. Your heart stops. 120 grips your arm encouragingly. "C'mon--" she says, her voice urgent. You almost forget to take the first step as your team chants. One, two. One, two. It only takes a few steps for you to reach the top, and you bend down, grabbing it, trying to take deep breaths. Your team march backwards. One, two. One, two. You're back in place, and you hold the top and twine, hesitating for just a moment. You don't dare look at the timer. Breathe. You wrap the twine around the axle, the first three loops, then the rest. You grip it, the end of the twine held tightly - tightly - between your fingers. Focus. No time for the details.

As you wind your arm back, you feel the ghost of Young-il's hands, guiding your motion. His warm palm, his cold fingers, leading the way.

You throw the top, and with a flick of the wrist, pull your hand back. The top lands on the ground.

It spins.

"Pass."

The crowd erupts, and your teammates grab you. You can hardly breathe, joy overtaking you. One last game. One more. You march together, pride swelling in your chest, even though it's not over yet. You didn't let your team down. You didn't ruin this.

You come to a stop, and the paper jegi gets passed to 120. It looks nothing like you expected, and definitely not as heavy, and you're glad this isn't the game you chose.

"No one watch me, okay?" 120 yells to you and the team. You blink in surprise, but you don't question her, turning your body away as much as the constraints allow, patting 149 to do the same. "You too. Everybody turn," 120 calls out to the crowd. The reason is lost on you, but you can only assume that everyone listens, because you hear the jostle of paper being thrown up into the air, followed by the first smack of it against her foot.

One...

Two...

Three...

Four...

FIVE.

You cry out in victory and excitement, turning as you hear the final smack of paper on foot. "You did it, you--"

"Pass."

Everyone is yelling and chanting for your team, and the rhythm, the synchronicity is easy to find after doing this together so much. Unison. Comradery. When you pass the finish line, you almost don't believe it, but the roar of the crowd fills your ears. You want to collapse on the spot.

As the guards come up to unlock the shackles tying you together, you find Young-il's eyes. Easily, this time. You know exactly where he is, after all. He's got his arms wrapped around his teammates, celebrating with the rest of him, his eyes on you, only you. The pride, the sheer relief in his expression is practically a physical thing, and you smile at him, feeling drained, but like a winner. He saved you.

You wish you could run to him, throw your arms around him, celebrate in his arms. But that's not an option. The guards finish releasing you, then gesture for you to follow them, and you only have time to mouth 'good luck' to him before you're escorted away.

As the doors shut behind you, you remember that your own victory doesn't secure his. There's a chance that he won't make it back to you at all.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

♡  ⁄ taglist: @pursued-by-the-squid @in-hos-wife @bloooooopblopblop <33333 @nellabear @gloriousjellyfisharcade @politicstanner @xcinnamonmalfoyx @beebeechaos @delfinadolphin @bbrainr0t @ineedazeezee

[tojipie]

Omg please please please write another fic about needy cry baby gf and Toji 😫🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

thinking abt him not realizing when he’s being mean because he grew up in a house full of boys where insults were a form of affection :( we’ve all got a little bit of crybaby reader in us me finks

content: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

────────────────────────

a sea of limbs dance and weave around the court with intricacies you won’t even pretend to understand, leaving you more confused with each passing minute.

you remind yourself that you’re here for toji, wanting to spend more time with him regardless of whether you were into the activity.

toji liked it, so you liked it. at least before the game got confusing.

“that was two points, right?” you ask him, trying to make sense of the shot a player had just made.

toji pauses, holding the chilled end of his beer can to the back of his neck.

“three, baby.” he corrects, kicking his work boots off. the older man relaxes into the soft embrace of the couch with a groan, propping his feet up on the ottoman.

“right… right.” you realize, listening as the announcer gives a rundown of what just happened. you look over and gauge his expression, searching for any acknowledgment of what you’d just said.

“sorry, not really a basketball fan.” you joke, hoping to alleviate the awkward air.

“not that smart either, huh?” toji chuckles, taking a sip of his beer.

your stomach drops at the comment. blood rushes to your ears as humiliation takes over, eyes welling up with hot tears.

you knew he was 100% joking. that’s just how toji was around the people he loved.

you were being too sensitive, right?

the two of you had discussed instances like this before, the older man explaining that that was truly just how he spoke to people.

he never meant to upset you, in fact he’d rather hang than ever hurt you on purpose. his words, not yours.

toji has promised you he was working on it, trying to choose his words more carefully around you.

that’s all it was, you tell yourself. a simple slip of the tongue.

or was he truly mad at you this time?

nope. just a joke. you tell yourself, fiddling with a loose thread in your sleeve to distract from the lump in your throat. you try to inhale around the blockage, accidentally releasing a sob that alerts toji right away.

“hey.” he mumbles, setting his drink down to look at you. calloused hands cradle your face as the older man takes a close look at you.

you pull away, trying to compose yourself. just a joke! you remind yourself.

a joke, not serious. just. a. joke.

“nonono, hey it’s okay.” he whispers, eyes blowing wide as he realizes the gravity of the situation.

“i’m sorry sweetheart, i’m sorry.” he pleads, muting the tv to focus on you.

“m’ not stupid.” you whimper, wiping each eye with the back of your hand.

“course not pretty girl.” he whispers, rubbing your back in soft circles. “i’m sorry, you know that’s j—“

“just how you talk.” you mumble, not sure if his explanation actually made it ok.

“but.” he starts, pulling you into his lap with a grunt.

“that’s not an excuse, right?” he asks you, clearly remorseful.

“need to watch my mouth around my girl, huh?” he chuckles, still rubbing small circles up and down your back.

“it’s ok.” you conclude, resting your head on his shoulder as he presses soft kisses to your cheeks and forehead.

“hate making you upset.” he tells you firmly, nuzzling into the crown of your head.

“you wanna watch something else?” he asks, placing the remote in your hand. “movie, youtube?”

you crawl out of the older man’s lap and onto the couch, pulling up prime to scan the comedy section.

“i fucking hate basketball.” you giggle, the man beside you breaking out in full blown laughter as you press play on the remote.

[omgkatsudonplease]

hello! how do you feel about people binding your fanfiction into physical books? i love your work and would also love to have a copy of BTDS for my bookshelf, though it would be for personal use only.

Hi! I don’t mind, as long as you credit me if/when you share (and maybe bind me a copy if you have the materials? 😉 JKJK… unless???)

[tetzoro]

˖˙ ꔫ — ROUGH & RUGGED, SOFT & SWEET ˚

꒰ synopsis : the growing tension between you and zoro is boiling under the surface at the party of your latest victory. set at the end of the fishman island arc but no major spoilers ꒱

꒰ content : MDNI. zoro roronoa x reader ; first kiss -> mind numbing make out session. alcohol use (zoro + reader share a drink). lots of build up. slightly suggestive. — WC : 5.2k ꒱

You missed this.

This being the utter chaos that would ensue after every fight the Straw Hats would face. After a long two years, you were all finally together once again and now on the cusp of greatness, you’re able to celebrate over your latest victory.

The air was buzzing around you, prickling at your skin and beckoning you to properly join the festivities. All around you were smiling faces, lips twisting into celebratory cheers. The alcohol was pouring along with the praise, everyone getting showered in compliments for their heroics. 

Leave it to the Straw hats to find themselves at another party. Granted, this one was deserved — all of them were anyway. Anytime the Strawhats found themselves on a new island, they always managed to leave it better than they found it. Some stroke of destiny that fell upon them, the magic they carry within them spreads to everything they come across.

That is, until they eat and drink their way through all the food and leave a mess after said party.

The crew never stuck around longer than they needed to, far be it from cleaning up after themselves. They were pirates after all. No one said they had to be the most thoughtful party guests.

With a quick scan of your surroundings, you ease back into the squishy chair you’ve taken residence in, taking a moment for yourself before you decide to properly join the party before you. There were so many thoughts swirling in your head, so many things to reflect on. Each of your crewmates and especially your captain had gotten stronger, new moves being thrown out into battle at every glance. 

It was hard to keep up but it invigorated you nonetheless. 

A part of you missed the clouds overhead, the open sea in front of you with your beloved crew beside you. While  it was pretty nice being here in a palace underwater that was beyond otherworldly and a sight that many don’t get to see — you just longed for the warmth and familiarity of the Sunny. To get back to the days that had kept you sane for the long stretch of time you were all apart.

A twinge of nostalgia stirs inside of you as you look down in your drink. The comfort of a blanket of stars that veiled overheard was instead replaced with the decorated ceilings of the palace. 

It’s something else that entirely enchants you, a buzzing that won’t quit as you look around the room. Extraordinarily beautiful, the Ryugu Palace was effortlessly decorated to the nines. It was an unimaginable place that you had believed could only be found tucked away in the pages of the old books you used to dig up from your childhood home.

Everyone was lost in it, finding their well deserved joy and becoming oversaturated in it. Sure, there was trouble brewing on the horizon — a new threat birthed in the early wake of this victory with an emperor of the sea you hope to never face, but, none of that seemed to matter right now.

Not as you watched your crew finally enjoying their time together, dancing and singing without a care in the world just like how they used to before you were all ripped apart. You couldn’t help but smile fondly and watch them have their fun as you take it all in.

And apparently, you weren’t the only one doing that. The green haired swordsman you left your heart with in Sabaody was also taking a step back from the party. His ever watchful eye taking in the crew — just like you. The seemingly elusive red thread tugs at something deep within you, beckoning you to go over to him and take your rightful place next but you falter, biding your time for the right moment. 

Your gaze lingers on Zoro for a little longer, watching as Jinbe takes a seat next to him with a handful of sake. A weight eases off your shoulders and rolls to the floor when you see Zoro smile, the achingly familiar sight fills your belly with butterflies. It had been far too long since you had seen it, and leave it to his precious booze to be the thing to bring it out of him.

For the longest time, you weren’t even sure if he was okay. The last you saw of him before you were separated, he was on his last legs. The sting of the memory stops you from ruminating on it for too long, eventually shaking the thoughts out of your head.

Reuniting with him was the highlight of your two years apart, being able to actually hug him was a rarity you relished in. The feelings that lingered deep within your core remained, even after all this time and you can feel them bubble up inside of you the longer you look. So with that, you get up, wandering over to him. 

Your ever drumming heart was beating to a tune that could only sound out to his name, guiding you towards him with every step that only ricochets the melody against the cool tiled floors. Politely passing by other party goers, you finally find yourself right where you want to be.

“Oh yeah, that’s the stuff, baby.” Zoro slightly slurs, wiping the residual sake off his lips with the swift swipe of his tongue. You freeze, the pet name that dripped from his alcohol soaked lips struck your very being and almost had you running away, tail shamefully tucked between your legs. But of course, the bastard noticed you. “Sit down already.”

His calloused palm reaches up, disarmingly gently wrapping itself around your wrist before roughly tugging you down next to him. You land ungracefully next to him, shoulder knocking into his. Heat rose to your face at the contact, but he seemed utterly unbothered and back to chugging his precious bottle of sake.

Someone hands you your own bottle and you look at it for a moment, nerves firing up as you’re still pressed against Zoro’s side. The close proximity doesn’t catch him off guard the way it does for you, not with the way he goes about enjoying himself - eye alight with mirth and a sense of contentment as he reaps the fruits of his labors.

Willing everything in you, you take a large gulp but vastly underestimate how strong this stuff was. You barely swallow it down before you try sputtering out the bitter fire you just consumed, the liquid dripping down the sides of your mouth.

Zoro barks out a laugh, the sound filling a piece of you that you would’ve thought had been lost to the graveyard of miserable memories that was Sabaody for the rest of your days. Hope swirls in the haze of the party and suddenly — you’ve never felt so present. The burning in your chest fades a little as his smile, the very one directed at you right now, soothes you.

“Still can’t handle it, huh?” Zoro asks, peeking at you from the corner of his eye. Quickly, you use the back of your hand to wipe off the sake running down your chin. The side of his lip twitches upwards before he sneakily hides it behind his own bottle — steadily gulping down the liquid as if it required no effort at all.

“Show off.” You watch as his adam's apple bobs, sake once again dribbling from the corners of his mouth. Despite the bitter taste that still lingers on your tongue, you find yourself wanting to lick it off of him.

“What? Can’t help that my tolerance is a hell of a lot better than yours.” The swordsman shrugged, leaning back a bit, eyeing you down as if he was about to challenge you. His tongue swipes along his lip, cleaning up the excess sake in a way that makes your heart twist.

“You sound pretty sure of that.” The words flew past your lips, never one to back down from him. Not now, not ever. “Maybe I spent the last two years practicing my drinking so I could finally beat you.”

“Oh Yeah? Based on what I just saw, I'd say you’re full of it.” He chuckles, a heartfelt sound before taking another swig of his sake. His next words came out of his mouth quieter, a little more thoughtful yet filled with a tame curiosity. “But who knows, you might have some luck tonight. Other than the past week or so, I've barely had a drink in two years.”

“What?” Your eyes widen and you can’t help but let out the laugh that boils over and bubbles out from inside your chest and flows to his perked, pierced ear. Zoro rolls his eye in retaliation but it was a lost battle.

“You heard me. Just let me drink, will you?” He swiftly takes your sake bottle out of your hand but you don’t go down without a fight. With what you hope would be a quick show of your strong reaction time, blows back into your face as you try to retrieve it but your fingers barely graze the neck of the bottle, just out of reach.

“Hey! Zoro, that’s mine.” Your hand ghosts along his chest before landing on his bicep, leaning into his space in an attempt to steal back what was yours.

“You don’t like it, anyway.” He pauses, attention quickly flitting to where your hand was resting now. “Didn’t want it to go to waste.”

“Did I actually say that, though?” You scowl, ripping it back into your hands. With a huff, you settle back into your spot, shoulder brushing along his side as faint as a feather. “I'm not sharing with you.”

“Bullshit, you always share with me.” He narrowed his eye. It’s true — in the past you’ve always given him sips of your own drink here and there. It always earned his thanks in the form of one of his special smiles he reserved for you.

“Looks like you just lost privileges.” You tease, as you reel yourself in to make a second attempt to drink the liquid. Squeezing your eyes shut, you guzzle what you can down as it burns every inch of your esophagus, getting ready to breathe fire. All you needed was the match.

“Well, well, there you go.” He claps you on the back in respect and the thread of restraint you had blows up as you let out another vicious cough. Zoro just laughs again, the sound melting your heart but viciously attacking your pride. 

“Jackass.” You mutter as you try to catch your breath.

Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time the two of you had been in a predicament like this, one where you were struggling to keep up with him. 

Your mind flashes back to the reunion with him, to the following days before the rest of the crew showed up. The two of you had been close before but this isolated time allowed something deep inside of you to grow, nurtured by the ever steady presence of the man beside you Late night drinking, fleeting touches, longing gazes. Surely that hadn’t all been one sided, right?

Hope stirred in your chest once again. Honestly, it was nothing new as the last two years were filled with endless thoughts of Zoro. What started out as something platonic quickly turned into something more romantic after having a dream about him that forced you to face the feelings you had buried deep within you.

The lingering question remained in your mind, pestering it relentlessly as your heart struggled to find the answer.

Did he feel the same?

To test your theory, your hand brushes along Zoro's arm, both of you intently watching. Slowly, you start to melt into his side, pushing the bands of fate and hoping it doesn’t all come snapping back in your face.

“You always get so damn touchy when you drink.” Zoro points out but makes no move to get space.

“Is that bad?” Your eyelashes sweep across your cheeks before they open once again, looking up at the man before you. His face betrayed nothing, but his eye was trying its best to hide something you couldn’t quite place your finger on.

“No.” 

“Then quit complaining.” With a reluctant look, you gaze back to your sake, questioning your decisions. Zoro lets out a small puff of air that sounded annoyingly close to a mocking laugh.

“Give up yet?” The look he gives you is enough to double down and keep trying.

“Absolutely not.” You huff, fingers clenching around the hefty glass. 

“There's so many other options besides sake, why don’t you go drink something you actually like.” Zoro vaguely gestured around the party, the half full cup of his own sake sloshes in his hand without managing to spill a drop. “Don’t be so damn stubborn all the time.”

He makes sense, yes, but that would involve getting up and finding it, leaving him behind for who knows how long. So you evade.

“Me? Stubborn? Look who’s talking.” You swish the liquid around in the bottle, wincing at how much is left. “Besides, I said I'd be better at drinking than you, so I gotta step it up, right?” 

“Yeah, that’s never gonna happen.” Zoro smirks, looking down at you as his pride involuntarily puffs off his chest.

“Oh really? That’s what you think?” You look up at him, demanding his attention. But to your surprise, you already had it, a dark look swimming in his eye as he drank you in. 

“That's what I know.” Zoro's gravelly voice was lower now, his tongue slowly swiping up a bit of sake that rested on his lips. Electricity prickled at your skin, stunning you into place for a moment as your gaze remains unwavering.

All of your breath was sucked out of your lungs and you had no idea if it was because of the sake rushing to your head or the sudden close proximity to the man who unknowingly held your affection. 

The rest of the room melts away into nothing but a memory. All that mattered was the man before you, the one who tugged at your heartstrings without any effort. The one who’s gaze on your lips burns more than the sake ever could. 

He was so close — closer than he’d ever been before since you’ve known him. The faint aroma of sake swirled with steel and a musk that’s entirely his own fills your senses, drawing you in closer with each passing second to the point you were almost sharing the same breaths.

“Well, you know what I think?” You start, honestly not knowing where else to go with this as your eyes linger on his lips. Zoro hums softly in response, the proximity close enough that you could feel the vibration of it through your shoulder and course throughout your body. The fact that his gaze lowered to your lips struck a chord within you, embolden you to make your next move. “I think you should—“

“Hey guys!” Luffy beams, throwing his arms around you both as he squishes you together. The spell you were both under shatters. The sake you were holding spills a little, getting onto your clothes, the strong smell filling your nose.

“Luffy!” Zoro barks out. “Watch it!”

“Oops, sorry!” He sheepishly sits next to Zoro. A few of the other straw hats come around in tow to hear another tale from Jinbe. You sneak a glance at Zoro, noticing that he’s turned his attention back toward Jinbe as he starts his next story.

The tension faded out so quickly you wonder if it happened at all — if the few small, harsh sips you indulged in were already playing with your mind and making it all muddy. All you knew is that you couldn’t sit around like everything was normal, walking it off was the best thing to do right now.

Using zoro’s shoulder as leverage, you quickly get up, your face warmer than the alcohol that was trying to settle in your stomach. The group gives you a puzzled look, wondering where you were headed.

“I'm just going to get some air.” You give out a convincing enough smile and luckily, the crew seems to accept it. You slip your glass into Zoro's hand, earning a questioning glance from him. All you can do is just shake your head, making your way around the group.

“But hurry back, okay? We need to have our food eating contest really soon.” Luffy beams over at you, waving you off before bouncing around Usopp and Nami.

The way back to the Sunny was short, mostly spent narrowly avoiding getting sucked back into different groups for the festivities. It’s not that you didn’t want to join, hell, maybe you’d even go back later as the delicious smelling food wafted through your nose. But right now, you needed to get a hold of yourself; you needed to clear your head. 

Unbeknownst to you, the one who sent your mind reeling in the first place was quietly trailing after you, keeping his distance far enough to avoid suspicion. But he was curious as to why you had gotten out of there so quickly, the brush of your fingers along his back still burning against his skin, seared straight through his clothes and injected into his veins that sent his heart beating faster than normal. 

Although the flat of your palm rested on his upper back only for a fleeting moment, it was enough for him to feel it but gone before he could savor it. It's embarrassing how the simple action tilts his world off of its axis, his mind spinning as it fights to align with the pull of your gravity.

Because the effect you’ve had on him has always been like this. The rough, hard exterior he prides himself in shatters into thousands of pieces on the floor with a simple brush of your fingers along his back. a man who had never put too much thought into love, romantic love, until your gaze was set on him and set his soul aflame.

Yet your smile was the very thing to remedy it. a salve to his scarred soul, soothing the steadfast yet slightly frayed walls that were so carefully constructed around his heart until they simmered away into nothing but rubble.

With his defenses down, the infamous demon pirate hunter quickly becomes the prey just from the effortless curl of your lips. No longer is he dressed in armor, ready to scare the world off with his brute strength, no. For now he’s a man who holds his tender beating heart in the palms of his hand, waiting for you to stake your claim on it.

Zoro has never been the most skilled when it came to directions, but somehow he could feel an invisible thread tug him your way, guiding him to the person he needed to see more than anything. 

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when he hears your soft giggle from up ahead — politely refusing another group of fishmen their offer to join them for drinks.

The sweet melody of your laugh strikes a cord amongst his heartstrings, orchestrating them in a symphony he’s never had the pleasure of hearing. An entirely new experience that he wouldn’t shy away from. But it still shot adrenaline through his veins, wanting to chase the sound to the ends of the earth. Not even in his most brutal battles did he get like this, the butterflies erupting from somewhere deep within him — a place that he thought he had buried long ago.

The Sunny comes into view and you slip away into the girls room. A part of him feels a little unsure if he should just barge in but there was something in his gut driving him to do so anyway.

The door opens and he watches as you turn with wide eyes, a vulnerable look dancing in your pretty irises. 

You never failed to stun him. Zoro knew how to appreciate beauty, he wasn’t that much of a brute, but still, nothing seemed to compare to you. 

His heavy gaze landed on your lips again, watching them move in the form of words that never reached his ears, the sound of his own heartbeat driving everything else out as the door clicks shut behind him.

“What?” Zoro grumbles, the words hardly leave his throat. his adam’s apple bobs in protest, finger searing to touch you but he holds back. He always does. 

If only the rest of his body would listen — his cheeks growing warm, no doubt leaving a rosy hue that says more than words ever could. but you don’t say anything, you just give him that sweet little smile of yours like it doesn’t cause his heart to thump a little harder against his ribs every time you do.

“I asked why you’re standing so far away from me.” You seem innocent enough under the soft lighting in the confined space you both found yourselves nestled in, but he knew better. The fact the door was sealed, locked with the key no one else held meant it was time to confront the little game you two were playing, endlessly dancing around each other and your feelings. The safety of these four walls allowed him to open his heart, let in the curious desire that flooded his veins every time he looked at you.

“Come closer then.” The words left his lips and echoes along your heart, increasing the rate as he shifts on feet, itching to have you near.

“You’re the one that followed me here.” A pause. “So, meet me halfway.” You whisper from the other side of the small room. only a few easy steps and you’d be in front of him, a simple task that sent him on his way. And yet, you don’t move. still standing by the bed, frozen in place as he makes his way forward.

“Stop messing around and come here.” Zoro mutters, but there’s no bite in his words. You listen anyway, too curious to back down now. A few steps later and you were finally in front of him. 

“Why’d you come in here?” Softly, you ask the question even when you both know the answer. But your hopeful soul longed to hear the answer, hanging on to every unsaid word emitting from him. 

“To check on you.” Zoro leans down a little, his face growing closer to yours but nowhere near its desired placement. Gently, you take his hands and place them along your hips before reaching out to grab onto his clothes. He lets out a shuddering breath, fueled by a sense of longing that he can no longer hide. “Don’t be coy.”

“‘m not.” Your voice was soft enough to be a lullaby, gentle as the waves on a calm day, lulling him into your atmosphere with each word. Zoro's nose brushes along yours, taking a baited breath as he comes into contact. 

“Then quit stalling.” His breath spreads across your skin. The faint stench of alcohol lingered on both of you, evidence of your participation in the celebrations earlier. The party was still at its full height, no one would know that you slipped away for a little bit. It was the perfect time to take what you wanted and Zoro was waiting, but his restraint could only last so long.

“I'm scared.” Your whispered confession falls against his ears from your restless lips. A destined beginning was on the horizon, completely on the brink of leaving what once was and embracing something entirely new. Moving a millimeter closer would seal this fate, changing the course of your relationship with him. There was nothing you wanted more and yet, self doubt causes you to hesitate. 

Zoro was never one to admit fear. Hell, he hardly felt it. Always charging forward to the battle with his swords drawn and a deadly look in his eyes.

But this is different. This is you. 

“Don’t be.” Zoro hoarsely whispers back, his hand sliding up to loosely cup your cheek. His fingers twitch, wanting nothing more than pulling you closer and finally taste you in the way he had been craving. “You know I'd never hurt you.”

And it was true, Zoro would rather take the blade than bring any harm to you. Something as precious as you should be protected at all costs and it would be one of his greatest honors to do so. Even if this never amounted to anything that his heart yearned for, he’d proudly accept a place by your side no matter the label.

“I really want you to kiss me.” You breathe, fingers digging into the rich green fabric that makes up his clothes. You were so close to him, itching to feel his lips on yours. Sharing the same breath, the tension in the room was so thick it was only pushing you two closer together. “And I know you want to kiss me too.”

The honest truth was out there and Zoro has never been so grateful for your bluntness. He closes the distance, his kiss all consuming, the intensity taking you by surprise as the force of it has you both tumbling back onto the bed. 

It shocks him as your teeth knock together, bodies bouncing onto the mattress and into each other as he catches himself on his elbows. He pulls back momentarily with a look in his steely eyes you’ve never seen before.

“Sorry.” Zoro sheepishly mumbles, face turning red. But you don’t have it in you to care, pulling him back in for more and disregarding his clumsiness. 

The kiss melts into a slower tempo, the initial passion simmering into hot coals that are stoked by the prod of his eager tongue. Sloppy, yet sweet — he consumes you in an agonizingly languid manner. 

The harshness of teeth clashing together was replaced by the slick muscle that runs along your own, swirling your tongues together to get a taste of the flavor of your shared yearning that had been marinating for far too long.

You’ve never been kissed so deeply, so thoroughly — every inch of your mouth being explored by the tip of his tongue.

A soft noise works its way up from Zoro's chest, blooming from his heart and morphing into a love letter meant to deliver right to your own equally rapidly beating muscle. You happily swallow it down, filling you with the warmth of belonging you had never felt before. 

Large palms grab onto your hips, his thumbs circling the sliver of skin right past the hem of your shirt that's ridden up. The contact cools his searing hot touch, balancing each other out the more he caresses you.

A spike of alarm shot through your body, begging for reprieve, crying out for air but your heart refuses to listen. Wanting nothing more than to be suffocated from his lips kissing you that held the same drive and intensity he shows every time he’s in battle.

But your lungs might actually burst so you pull away rather harshly, gulping down air as his forehead rests against yours. The way you try to collect yourself gains all of his attention. Ever the observer, he watches your chest heave, your swollen lips part open, your unblinking eyes under a haze of desire.

“Zo-“ You gasp out, your hands crawling up his biceps and taking hold as if it could ground you back to the reality you deserted moments ago. 

The rest of your words die in your throat as you finally look into his eyes. the steely color replaced by obsidian, overridden with the very desire you had aflame in your core. 

There was a desperate hunger resting behind the irises you’ll never tire at seeing. But this was brand new territory, something sacred and pure that was about to meet its slaughter. The air of innocence burned away from the heat of his longing. 

And you could only pour gasoline over it.

“We…” He trails off, mesmerized by the way you bite your lip, practically beckoning him in for another taste. Years of discipline couldn’t have prepared him for keeping away from someone like you, every inch of his body pleading to divulge into his desires just a little more. 

Your gravity reels him back in as you grip his muscles, a silent plea to resume. His palm quickly finds the back of your head, pushing you closer to him as his lips crash back over you in a violent tidal wave.

Everything buzzed with want — need, to feel him everywhere and all at once. The longing you once held turns into greed and you can’t find it in you to care. Almost desperately pressing your body up for more to gain some sort of friction to ease the pain you were starting to feel in your body from the lack of attention.

His knee innocently slips between your legs, trying to find a way to ground himself as he pulls you closer, chests flush against each other now.

The action shocks you to your core, jolting in his hold as he innocently brushes upon something so sensitive. Zoro hastily pulled apart from your lips, furrowed gaze fixed on you to see if he had messed something up. 

Even in the dim lighting, you can see how rosy Zoro's cheeks are. The soft, vulnerable look etches throughout his features and you can’t help but reach your hand up, caressing his cheek.

Your thumb barely brushes over the edge of the scar that covers his left eye, watching as he shuts his other eye shut in contentment, letting you feel every piece of him.

An unfiltered version of Zoro that's beginning to open up before you, the walls around his heart clattering to the ground like armor falling off a knight. Laid bare for you to explore, unravel. 

The kiss left you in a lofty state, head in the clouds as you carve out your own little slice of paradise with the man before you.

But the dream eventually has to end, reality coming crashing down as the sudden rattling of the door handle breaks both of you apart, Zoro practically flying up to his feet as he hears Luffy's voice — who’s already whining about the locked obstacle.

You look over at Zoro and swallow nervously. Not over the fact that luffy was about to cut in at any moment, but over the uncertainty of what was next between them. 

The pressure of his kiss scars your lips, laced with an unforgiving bewilderment that grates your heart the wrong way and leaves its ghost behind to haunt you long after you part. The spell remains as it imprints upon your soft flesh, waiting for its caster to return and free you of this sweet torment.

But instead, Zoro's face returns to normal. the emotion back to simmering under the ever watchful eye and his walls fortified once again.

For his priority would always be his captain and his own dream, the crew falling in line somewhere amongst the narrow lines of those. But you? 

You could only hope there was a spot left in his heart for you to carve yourself into.

thank you very much for reading !! tagging @luffysprincess ❤︎ mwah !

[rottiens]

contents. satoru gojō x fem reader, alcohol consumption, all the characters are adults, secret relationship au.

"How many shots would you have to take to kiss Gojo?" Nanami asks the group as his eyes are on you, you laugh against the bottle stumbling against your lips. 

The question isn't out of place since you just answered that you would kiss Principal Yaga after taking at least about five shots out of respect and how nervous he makes you feel. However everyone knows what your relationship with Satoru is like, so the question catches you off guard. 

"Zero." Shoko answers for you and Satoru looks at her over the sunglasses, clearly displeased. "There's not enough alcohol in the world to make her kiss him." 

"Oh, no, no, wait... she's really thinking about it!" Haibara points an accusing finger at you and you can't help but laugh again, you feel the skin on your cheeks stretch and burn from the silly grin you can't wipe off. Satoru's stalking gaze feels like a torch on the back of your neck. 

You pretend to think it humming out loud, though the answer is clear to you. "At least about ten," you say, tilting the bottle up to your mouth, getting the group around the campfire to laugh filling the beach with echoes. 

"Heeey." Satoru pinches your forearm which makes you look at him, a tiny pout is later replaced by a couple of wrinkles on his forehead.

"What?" you ask softly and have to force your hands to stay still and not reach out to touch him. 

"Ten shots? That's almost an alcoholic coma."

"There are actually many things that could influence an ethyl coma," Kento clarifies.

"You can't explain much about alcohol to a person who doesn't drink." Your numb brain is sure that was Hibara, too lazy to check since your eyes were still on Satoru who was still indignantly staring at you. 

"What?" you repeat almost in a whisper. 

"Nothing." His attention returns to the campfire, the heat from the fire burns his pink cheeks and the bright flame dances on his face making his eyes look much lighter mimicking the shade of the sea at midday. 

Satoru pushes his glasses up on top of the bridge of his nose, hiding his eyes completely. 

"I'm going to get more beer," you say looking at the group, then tug on Satoru's arm to help him up, who does so reluctantly. "Can you help me with the box?" 

He walks beside you without adding anything else, shaking the sand out of his red shorts and pushing his hair out of his face. 

"Are you really upset?" The answer was obvious but you had to make sure, Satoru walks silently, sinking his feet aggressively into the sand until you reach the parking lot where your toes have never felt more grateful to touch solid ground. "Hey?" you tug on his hand and stop your steps, standing still in front of him. 

"Hhm?"

"Are you really upset?" 

"No," Satoru assures, avoiding your eyes.  

"Satoru, did you really want me to tell them that I would kiss you sober? Without a drop of alcohol?" 

You see him licking his lips battling with himself on whether to stay annoyed with you or understand your point. 

"I know."  

"I thought we were going to go slow..." 

"I know!" His hands cradle your cheeks tenderly, bringing his face up to meet yours to leave a kiss on your lips. "I was dying to touch you." 

"You know we didn't go public for you." You remind him, letting him rest his forehead on top of yours. The artificial taste of the strawberry beer he drank earlier sneaks into your mouth in little gasps. 

"Let's do it when we get back to the city," Satoru murmurs, brushing his lips over yours. "I think they know anyway." Oh, you're sure they know. You're both too obvious but you didn't want to push your boyfriend when he told you he wasn't ready to admit in front of everyone to officially having a partner. "But I don't like having to hold your hand on the sly or sneak out of meetings so I can kiss you and God, I'm just addicted to that watermelon gloss you use."

You laugh giving him fleeting little kisses, taking advantage of the position to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you. 

"Just admit you're addicted to me, Satoru." 

"Maybe I am..." He says in that tone that indicates danger. That voice that tells you you're not going back to the group you had run away from. 

Satoru squeezes your waist possessively, his fingers trace on your sun-toasted skin and you moan between his half-opened lips the moment he asks for your tongue silently, his nose stumbling against yours. 

"We should get back..." you say in a whisper, remembering this fact more to yourself than to him.  

"We can disappear for ten minutes..." Pause. His lips move to your collarbone and his warm breath tickles you. "Fifteen minutes..." Pause. Small bites along your jaw take him to your neck. "Twenty..." His tongue dances over your salty skin, gently licking what he can reach and has to physically force himself not to suck. 

"It's never ten minutes..." you say between a choked moan, tugging at his strands sweetly until he's looking at you again. Dark sunglasses hide his eyes from you but his mouth is at your disposal, half open, red and appetizing and the tiny freckles that bathe his nose make your stomach knot. 

He grunts, as if battling with himself to understand that you are right. Satoru brings his face to the line of your neck and sighs heavily, leaving one last kiss to pull away from you against his will. 

"Let's go back then," he says resignedly. And he had never wanted the weekend to pass as quickly as he wanted it to now, being the impatient person he is, he didn't want to wait to have your hand entwined with his and fill his chest with raw pride where he could finally admit in front of everyone that you were his.

[eilinelsghost]

Absolutely speechless at this commission from @mandhos of the berry fight from These Echoes We Have Left! I’m in awe at the details here and how perfectly they captured the scene. 😍😍😍 Thank you so much for this!!

From this excerpt:

They rolled back into the trillium and Balan scrambled atop him at last, pinning his arms to the ground and grinning down at him in triumph. “Bested,” he gasped, laughing still as he caught his breath and tightened his grip about the other’s wrists, eyes glinting. “Loose thine hand, I’ll have my vengeance.

But the other lay frozen, a sea of gold splayed about his head, and his eyes were fixed on Balan’s, unblinking. And again, as amid the dancing at Tol Sirion, Balan knew he might have him if he wished. The king lay at his mercy here within the trillium and violets, marked with the grass’ long shadows falling sharp against the golden light. He would yield. Balan could bend down now and press his lips to the other’s, stained bright with the berries’ dye, and no resistance would meet him. He could slip a hand behind his neck and draw him in, taste the tart fruit upon the other’s mouth and feel him fall away beneath his touch. And he had been dizzy with the knowledge of his own power.

“Open your hand,” he had said again, in his own tongue now, and obediently Nóm’s fingers parted. The airna’akran glistened in the sunlight, bright as blood against his skin. They had been crushed in the struggle, but held at least somewhat intact, and Balan shifted up slowly to gather them in his mouth. “There is a saying amongst my people—the nectar of justice is as honey upon the tongue.” His lips brushed the other’s palm and amusement rumbled through his voice. “But these you’ve left me are tart as gooseberries.” A trickle of juice had run down along the wrist and he set his lips to this in turn, little bothering to disguise the kiss as he lingered, the other’s pulse pounding against his mouth. It pounded too against his palms where they held Nóm’s arms pinned in the grass beside his head, and Balan hesitated for a moment, then let his lips brush along the other’s forearm as he drew back to meet the grey eyes once more. “A creature of flesh after all, ghomenno?”

“Never anything other.” Nóm’s voice had been scarcely a breath, shivering as it drifted up to meet him.

Read the full fic on AO3

[lydiimae]

Jealousy

A.N: OMG I am finally starting this blog. I am so so excited. This is a Benedict Bridgerton fic ofc. The true loml. I'm still debating if I will write only Bridgerton orrrrrr others? I dunno... but for now, here is a lovely, smutty, cutie, Ben fic hehe <3

Warnings: semi-public sex, fingering, vaginal sex, drinking, dirty talk, heavy praise, talk of public heavy petting ;)

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Minors DNI!! 18+

He sighs from beside Eloise, shifting on the picnic blanket for what has to be the millionth time. "Brother, you worry too much about that woman." She mutters with an amused glint in her eye, taking a bite of one of the strawberry tarts the family maids had made for the occasion.

A family picnic was not a rarity during the social season, especially for the Bridgerton's. What was a rarity is that Benedict had invited a woman along, an incredibly important woman at that. Y/N L/N, a daughter of an influential Viscount. The woman he found himself to be head over heels in love with.

"I am not worried. I am merely observing so our brother does not make a fool of himself in front of her." He replies with a huff, taking a sip from his flask before tucking it back into his pocket.

You were merely speaking with his brother. His happily married older brother. He has no reason to be jealous, really, but something in him still tugs painfully at the sight of you speaking to another man. It is only when Kate comes to steal her husband away that you scootch back over to him, a bright smile on your face.

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You move back over to Benedict and look up at his cute pouty expression, smiling at the warmth that blooms in your chest as a result.

You wished to get to know his family before the inevitable happens. Marriage. You know, as well as he does, that you were both going to tie the knot as soon as it was acceptable to do so. You also know that he would scoop you up and marry you tomorrow if he had his way.

At the very first ball of the season, Lady Danbury insisted that she had someone for you to meet. Someone who enjoyed painting just as much as you did. So, she took your arm and led you away from your father to the Bridgerton family. You were confused, at first, when the already happily married Viscount, Anthony, turned to greet you. And then, as if the sea was parting, he appeared. A crooked grin on his face as he moved to see you. Benedict Bridgerton, although he is a second son, stole your heart as soon as you saw him.

From then on you waited with bated breath for every dance you would share, dreamt of him in your bedroom when you got home, and thought of nothing but him in between. You shared stolen glances at every event and even snuck off to any hidden corner or garden you could find for breathless kisses and entirely impolite words that sent your mind into a whirlwind you could not explain.

Soon enough, he started inviting you on promanades and even sooner he wished for you to dine with his family. Get to know his life outside of the stuffy ballroom, to which you found yourself falling even deeper in love than you could've ever imagined.

"You're pouting, Ben." You hum, taking a sip of your lemonade with an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Indeed. Perhaps if you were not so caught up with my brother I would not have a reason to pout, hm?" He returns, moving to take another sip from his flask.

He was jealous? Of his married brother? You sigh and move your hand over his, shaking your head slightly. You hand him a glass of lemonade. If he truly is jealous, the last thing he needs is whiskey.

"If you truly wish to hear what we were talking about, I shall tell you." You return as he takes a sip of the lemonade you gave him. He moves his hand over yours, just out of sight of his family. A possessive gesture that makes your heart flutter.

"Yes, in fact, do enlighten me." He grumbles with a sigh. "His wife, Benedict. He was talking about his lovely wife, which if you have forgotten, happens to be my dear friend." You sigh, running your thumb over his knuckles.

He looks over at you, his green eyes sweeping down to your lips, then your chest, before finally looking back up. "I care not of what you were speaking about, I should like you to speak with me when it is I who invited you." He practically growls, the tone of his voice making the place between your legs heat up and dampen instantly. A feeling that only happened with him, something he had explained as both desire and arousal.

"You know that I-" You begin, but are cut off by him pulling you to your feet. The glasses of lemonade are now completely forgotten. "Mother, I should like to promenade with Lady Y/N." He fibs.

What he would really like to do is rip the skirt of your dress open, spread your legs wide, and plunge his cock so deep inside of your soaked cunt that you forget everything else. He wants to paint your insides with his seed right here, in front of the whole ton, so that every man can get a glimpse of who you truly belong to.

"Of course, dear. We shall not keep you." Violet replies with a smile before delving back into conversation with Eloise, who also looks up with a confused expression but quickly rolls her eyes and continues to speak to her mother.

You shoot him a questioning look to which he just raises an eyebrow and offers his arm. You take it and he begins to lead you away from the picnic canopies that many families have set up to dine under.

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"Where are we going?" You question after a moment, realizing that you are not following the path around the lake but rather the path to the carriages.

He stops and tugs you behind a tree, pushing you up against the trunk. The bark bites into the little exposed skin the back of your dress grants you and your cunt flutters when you see his expression.

Desire is different for men, he taught you. You can see it in the way his trousers tighten at the front and in the way his eyes haze over. His hands move to your waist and he bends down, pressing kisses all the way up your neck until he reaches your ear.

"Agree to marry me and I shall show you." He whispers, biting the soft flesh beneath your ear causing you to shiver and whine. He grins and licks over the tender skin, soothing the sting.

"You already know very well that I would say yes to any proposal you give me." You breathe, leaning your head back as your eyes flutter shut. His hand skates over your stomach, running up the smooth fabric of your dress until he meets your breast. He cups one and swipes his thumb over your hardened nipple through the fabric.

He pulls away, swiping the saliva off his bottom lip with his thumb before picking you up. You squeal and he chuckles, paying the driver of his carriage off before tucking you inside. He closes the door and the curtains on the window, darkness enclosing the both of you.

"Benedict." You whisper as he lays you back on the velvety bench. "Hush, my love. I shall not do anything before asking I swear it." The title makes your heart almost burst out of your chest. He dips down once more, pressing his lips to yours briefly.

You pull him back down before he gets very far, chasing one of those open-mouthed kisses he gave you at the last ball. He groans, his tongue swiping over yours. He grins over your lips at the sound that escapes, moving his hands to yours where they rest on his chest before breaking the kiss.

"Ben please." You whine, wanting him to continue so desperately. He only smiles, taking off your gloves. "You must have patience, my sweet girl. I am going to ravish you in due time." He assures, pressing soft kisses from your palm all the way up to your shoulder as he takes off his gloves as well.

He reaches your neck, to which he takes a deep breath. Taking in your scent of lavender and citrus, making him groan as it always does. "Do you remember when I taught you to ride my thigh?" He whispers, running his tongue down to your collarbone, nipping the skin.

The memory makes you flood your underwear. You remember well, how could you not? He had lead you to the garden at one of Lady Danbury's balls and sat you down on his lap on the edge of the fountain. He hiked up your skirt and led your hips back and forth until something inside of you snapped so hard you saw stars and stained his trousers. That is where he taught you about his arousal, about yours.

"Yes." You breathe, your eyes fluttering shut as one of his hands moves under your skirt. His slender fingers skating teasingly up your thigh. "Good girl." He praises. He cups your cunt without warning and you cry out, your hips canting.

"Fuck. You are absolutely drenched." He whispers, relishing in the moans he draws from your body just from keeping a hand over your cunt. "And I told you about sex, do you remember that darling?" He murmurs, watching your eyes flutter.

He slowly pushes your skirt up so he can slide off your panties. He tucks them into his pocket, smiling to himself. "Yesss." You moan as the air hits your bare sex. "You told me it happens when we get married." You whisper between whines as his hand comes back, his fingers curling into your pubic hair.

"Such a good listener. So good for me." He praises, sliding two of his fingers along your drenched slit before finding your clit with expert touch. He rubs a slow circle on your button and you moan loudly, throwing your head back. "Now, when a man has honor he waits to take a woman's innocence. But my honor disappeared when I saw you with my brother," You try and protest but he pinches your clit and you cry out before you can get so much as a whisper out.

"So I will take you now. In this damn carriage." He growls, moving his free hand to your hips to hold you down. You whine when his fingers move down. "Fuck you are perfect," He breathes. "I'm going to slide one of my fingers inside now, darling, alright?" He murmurs, the switch from possessive to sweet sending your mind reeling. So overwhelmed, so mindless Just how he likes you.

You nod tentatively, your heart rate spiking which he picks up on. He shifts so he is over you, and kisses the crown of your head. "I'll go slow, hm? Nice and slow. All you need to do is pat my arm twice and I'll stop." He assures, calming your heart. You nod and nuzzle his neck.

He slowly plunges a long finger into your weeping cunt and you whine at the invasion. "Good girl, fuck you are so tight." You gasp and writhe as he curls his finger, the feeling sending a shock straight to your clit. He slowly adds another finger and you moan loudly, your eyes rolling back.

"Ben... so good. Feels...." You cry out when his fingers curl into a spot that sends waves of pleasure through you. He grins and begins to rock his fingers, drawing heavenly noises from your soaked cunt. The carriage filled with the sound of your moans and the squelching of your pussy.

He licks a stripe up your neck, beginning to suck as he rocks his fingers. You curl a hand in his thick curls and tug, your hips desperately trying to move against the palm of his hand.

He kisses your jaw, and then your chin, before finally capturing your lips. His tongue immediately sliding past your swollen lips and tangling with yours. You moan into his mouth as his thumb presses down on your swollen clit, moving clockwise as he rocks his fingers into your body.

He breaks the kiss and pulls out his fingers, much to your dismay, before unbuttoning his trousers. "Benedict... why did you stop? It felt so very nice..." You whine, grinding on nothing to try and gain some sort of feeling.

He groans at the sight, bending down and pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek. "My harlot of a fiancee. So needy for something she does not even know the half of." He praises as he slowly frees his cock, the sight along with his filthy words making you gasp.

He pulls back and strokes himself with the help of your delicious wetness, before looking back at your sweet face. All flushed and wide-eyed. He moves his free hand to your chin, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

"It will not fit, Benny." You whisper, suddenly frightened. His eyes soften and he moves down pressing a swift kiss to your lips. "It will, my love. We will go slow, I promise. Remember what I told you, two pats on my arm and we will stop." He hums, peppering your face with kisses which causes you to giggle and calm a bit. "Perhaps one pat for apprehension, hm?" He murmurs with a smile, pulling back. You nod.

"Good girl." He hums. He leans in and runs his length through your soaked folds drawing moans from the both of you. "Fuck. God, I love you." He grunts and you smile, draping your arms over your eyes to cover your blush. "I love you too, Benedict." You whisper back.

He slowly pushes into your body, throwing his head back at how tight your pretty pussy is. You cry out at the invasion, your hands shooting down to grasp at the edges of the carriage bench. The feeling is a strange mix of pain and something different. A tart taste on your tongue paired with a tingly feeling in your already hot womb. "Fucking hell." He groans before tucking his face in the crook of your neck, stopping halfway so you can adjust.

You whine and wrap your arms around his neck after a moment. "P-Please..... more. I need more, Benedict." You gasp after the pain subsides. God, he almost comes right there. He wants you like this all the time, mindless for his cock. Begging him to fuck you.

"Good fucking girl, Y/N." He grunts before bottoming out inside of you. You moan and toss your head back into the seat cushion and he groans at the feeling. "You feel so good, my love. So ripe, so wet. God, so very tight just for me." He praises.

He begins to move slowly, the slap of thighs meeting thighs filling the carriage. The feeling is so foreign but fuck you never want it to stop. Moans and whines slip past your lips before you can even begin to try and stop them, and you cry out as he speeds up. The noises he is drawing from your body would embarrass you if you didn't adore the way he feels inside of you to the point that you can think of nothing else. You wish to be like this as much as you can, full to the brim with his cock.

"Benedict." You moan and he stalls, gritting his teeth. "Never ever stop moaning my name, you vixen. God, I am a lucky man. The luckiest man in the world." He praises you as he begins to slam into you.

You grip his coat so hard you are surprised the velvety fabric hasn't torn. You cry out when his thumb finds your clit, the feeling sending you up to the clouds. "Come for me, my love." He grunts from above you with a slight slap on your thigh. That sends you over, your vision going white as you scream his name.

He thrusts a few more times before pulling out and pumping himself. He releases with a groan onto your stocking-covered thigh before collapsing on top of you.

After a moment he lifts his head to look at you, brushing your fallen hair out of your face. You smile, almost drunkenly, as you look at him. "That was heavenly." You whisper and he smirks, pressing a kiss to your lips.

"Just wait until we are married. I cannot wait to fill you with my seed and see you plump with my child." He murmurs. resting his head back on your shoulder. Your hand absentmindedly finds his hair, running through his messy curls.

"We have to go back." You whisper to which he shakes his head. "Not yet. I paid off the driver. We have as much time to rest as we wish, dearest." He hums, his eyes closed. You grin and close yours as well, slowly dozing off with him.

You are the luckiest woman in the world.