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badgerbl00d · 2 years ago

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one piece boys getting jealous pt.2

☆ characters: law, shanks, kidd

☆ up next: making one piece boys considering fatherhood

☆ summary: what happens when you pair pirates, a pretty lady, and another man finding her attractive? jealousy! , suggestive content

☆ a/n: law fever is rotting my brain.. suggest characters for part three!

☆ part 1 here!

law

1.26k words

“Hopefully we can come up with something good,” Law explained, “Or this whole plan is going to fall apart pretty quickly.”

You gently pat his back as you walked with him, “You will, Captain.”

He smiled, appreciative of the gesture.

You both stopped in front of an intricate hand-carved wooden door with a gorgeous brass handle.

You both lightly laughed at the breathtaking beauty of the door.

The Straw Hats’ shipwright didn’t cut corners.

“Nicest library entrance you’ve ever seen in your life or what?” you joked, opening the door.

He laughed and you felt a strong hand on your back guiding you into the library on the Thousand Sunny.

Sanji was in the library reading and stood up as soon as you walked in.

“Y/n!”

You waved, walking over towards him.

Law begrudgingly followed.

He didn’t dislike any of the straw hats, but he also didn’t have a fondness for the flirty cook who couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off you.

“I was just about to start dinner,” he whispered, “Care for a drink?”

Law rolled his eyes. Was the whispering necessary when he was standing less than five feet away?

“Oh! I’d love to!”

Law sighed, “I’m gonna head to the meeting room, Y/n.”

“Okay,” you replied, “I’ll see you later then?”

He nodded, giving you a soft smile before turning to Sanji and excusing himself.

The cook didn’t miss how his fists clenched at his sides on his way out.

“Ready for a drink?” Sanji asked you.

“Ready!”

He responded with some french expression and led you towards the kitchen with him.

Once there you offered to help Sanji with cooking dinner and stationed yourself in front of the window.

He took a few things out of the oven and you watched as he rubbed a lime wedge around the rim of a shot glass.

What the hell is she doing?

Law watched you through the kitchen window, washing vegetables, holding a pretty drink,

taking sips as you laughed at whatever unfunny thing the straw hat cook what saying.

He had brought you on board with him because he knew you liked their company but this wasn’t supposed to be some play date.

It was a strategy meeting.

For him, at least.

He lost track of what Luffy and Robin were saying as he watched the two of you through the window.

Sanji placed an apron over you, gently tying the strings to fit you. Clearly looking down at your breasts.

He looked up, making eye contact with Law, catching onto the glare the surgeon was giving him.

Law watched a subtle smile spread across the cook’s face.

Pervert.

He heard Luffy mention something or other, no doubt a useless strategy he would refute if he were thinking straight, but all he could imagine was if he were standing in Sanji’s place.

He’d be making something different that’s for sure.

Law knew you hated carrots, but he also knew you’d never complain about anything and felt his fists clench as he watched you politely wash the vegetables.

He also knew you hated alcohol but watched you sip your drink anyway.

You were too nice for your own good, and Law felt like he had the responsibility of making sure you weren’t taken advantage of.

You washed the last of the vegetables and placed them in a bowl.

��Let me help with more,” you insisted, “I’m no chef but I could cut these.”

“Of course! As long as you don’t get hurt.”

You giggled, “Trust me, I’ve dealt with worse,” you jokingly gestured over toward the room Law was in.

You started chopping away at some carrots, stopping when you realized yours were a lot less even than Sanji’s.

“Want some tips?”

You nodded, slightly embarrassed.

Sanji stood behind you.

You felt his chest against your back and he softly placed his hands on top of yours, showing you the correct motions to use when chopping.

You stood still, letting Sanji’s arms wrap around you, his hands resting on top of yours, continuing your previous conversation.

Law looked up again and saw red.

He knew the cook wasn’t stupid, and that you were probably appreciative of the attention he was giving you.

He broke the pencil in his hand and tensed his jaw.

He looked ready to explode and Luffy and Robin turned around to look at what had pissed him off.

“Mugiwara-ya,” he started, his stomach twisting, “Tell your pervert of a cook to get his hands off my sniper.”

Law was seething.

Luffy turned to look into the kitchen and laughed, “Don’t worry, Traffy! Sanji is always nice to women.”

Robin who had also turned to look and stood up, a sly smile spreading across her face as excused herself, making her way towards you and Sanji.

Law’s nerves worsened, Shit, shit, shit.

He knew Robin had most likely caught onto what his anger was about.

He didn’t need anyone else to know how he felt about you.

It was difficult enough for him, and he’d rather cut off his hands than let you find out.

He felt trapped.

Luffy was yapping nonstop, none of which he was registering.

He could hear his heart pounding in his chest and felt sweat forming on his forehead.

This was going to ruin everything. He was awkward and non-sociable. He didn’t make you fancy drinks and wasn’t naturally romantic, and most importantly he was about one hundred percent certain you didn’t feel the same way.

He felt nauseous as he watched Robin open the kitchen door and approach the two of you.

He watched you and Sanji look up at him.

His stomach dropped.

You turned towards Robin, a concerned expression taking over your face, starting to put away what you were doing.

You approached the door, but Sanji stopped you.

He untied the apron he had placed on you and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, whispering something to you.

That was it.

Law stood up and slammed the door open, marching straight toward the kitchen.

Luffy followed in hot pursuit, confused.

The kitchen door swung open and Law almost ran into you.

“Blackleg,” Law started, “What exactly do you think you’re doing with her?”

“Cooking,” Sanji responded, playing innocent.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” you started, a very shameful appearance on your face, “Robin told me.”

Law let out a short exhale, still glaring at Sanji.

Robin… what?

Law’s heart dropped and he looked at you, eyes slightly widened.

“She told me that I should’ve been helping you strategize,” you explained, “I completely forgot that I had the blueprints and your notebook with me.”

Law exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose, flooding with relief, “Right- the, uh, the blueprints. Could you bring them?”

You nodded, turning towards Sanji, “Thanks for the drink! I appreciate you making it non-alcoholic for me!”

Law felt like his head might explode.

Of course, he had made you a non-alcoholic drink.

“Anytime, mon Coeur,” Sanji grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on the back of it.

“Room.”

You found yourself next to Law walking back towards the room he’d been in.

“Don’t get distracted next time,” he scolded you.

You nodded, not saying anything.

You felt Law take your hand in his, brushing off where you’d been kissed, before holding it.

Your cheeks turned a violent shade of red.

“Sanji, you ought to be more careful,” Robin said, making sure Law was still within earshot, “I never would've taken him as the jealous type!”

shanks

1.2k words

Shanks never got jealous.

And if he was anything, he was confident. It was no secret that he had a woman waiting for him on every island and that he could have anyone he wanted.

Except you.

The newest addition to the crew and the most beautiful.

He’d traveled the world, all four seas, and never once come across anything as gorgeous as you.

Not a single thing compared to any part of you.

Unfortunately, Beckman seemed to agree.

He watched as the two of you sat and talked, sharing a bottle of wine, no less.

Any progress he seemed to make with you, or any time you seemed to be reciprocating his affections, he’d find you and Benn together the next day.

“I’m kind of hoping being at sea all the time will eventually get less nauseating,” you said.

Benn laughed, “It will! The first time I set sail I was seasick for three weeks. Thought I’d never accommodate and was just about getting ready to hang up any hopes of being a pirate.”

“What changed?”

“Shanks helped, actually. Told me to try sucking on mints. Worked wonders.”

“Mints?”

“Yeah,” he explained, “Apparently they have a numbing effect which ends up canceling out nausea. He has them on hand all the time.”

You took a sip of your wine, “Maybe I should ask him for some.”

“Just be careful with him,” Benn teased, “He can be a handful. Mind giving me a light?”

You leaned over towards him, holding your lighter to the cigarette between his lips.

“Do you know where he is?” you said, standing up, downing the rest of the wine in your glass.

“Try his bedroom, he might still be sleeping. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind being woken up by you though,” Benn said, a sly look spreading over his face.

You’d have asked what he meant if nausea hadn’t already started to set back in.

You knocked on his bedroom door lightly, trying to steady your breathing as you weren’t sure if you felt like fainting or throwing up.

“Um... Captain?” you called out, “I know it’s early but, uh, I was wondering if you had any mints?”

This was awkward. You should probably feel more comfortable talking to the man who invited you to be a part of his crew.

You waited by the door for a few minutes with no answer.

You groaned and decided that you’d have a peek inside only to see if he was sleeping and if he was you’d.. well, you didn’t know.

It would probably be weird to go in and wake him.

You took a deep breath in and slowly turned the handle, opening the door as little as possible to see if he was inside.

“Whatcha lookin’ for, baby?”

A strong voice called out to you from the end of the hall.

You nearly passed out.

“Captain!! I was- I was just- Oh my God, I’m so sorry I know how this looks I was just looking for you because Beckman said that you might still be sleeping and I needed-”

Shanks held up a dismissive hand to cut you off.

“Cute,” he said, looking at how your cheeks deepened in color, “But if you wanted some time in my bedroom with me you could always just ask.”

A flirty smile settled onto his face, and he wasn’t shy about holding eye contact.

You averted your eyes to the floor and tried to explain again, “I need a mint. Benn said I could ask you for one since you carry them all the time.”

His smile faltered for a split second, “And what would you and Benn need a mint for?”

Your cheeks darkened even more and you felt embarrassment creeping up your neck and onto your face.

“Oh, n-no it’s nothing like that! I just-,” you paused not exactly wanting to admit to your captain that you got seasick very easily, an arguably bad trait for a pirate to have.

“Hm,” Shanks tossed you two mints with a wink, “Give him a high five for me.”

“It’s not like that!”

Your protests fell on deaf ears, as he was already on his way out.

The rest of your day was calm. The sea seemed to have taken pity on you and the waves evened out after your first mint.

You’d found a spot on the upper deck of the ship earlier in the week. A corner tucked behind the captain’s office, where the railing was wide enough to sit quite comfortably on and you got a nice view of the sunset.

It was nice to have a serene little spot to yourself where you could enjoy the peace and quiet. You turned the corner, ready to relax, when you saw Shanks sat on your ledge.

“Came to find me sweetheart?”

“Sorry to intrude,” you started, “Didn’t know this was your spot.”

Shanks laughed, “It is directly behind my room you know.”

“Right, yeah.”

You awkwardly shuffled your feet.

“I get really seasick,” you said before you could think it through.

Shanks looked at you with amusement, though you could tell he didn’t really understand.

“That’s why I needed a mint. I got nauseous and felt faint and I asked Benn for help and he told me to ask you. Said you’d helped him with the same thing.”

An irritatingly sly smile spread across his face.

You bit your lip, not wanting to say anything, but clearly irritated at his enjoyment of the fact.

“What the hell is that face supposed to mean?”

“Sweetheart, you just made my day,” he said.

“Is that so?” You understood what was going on pretty clearly now.

He nodded, standing up and extending a hand toward you.

You hesitantly took it.

He pulled you in towards him and placed a hand on your lower back, leaning you slightly backward and bringing his face to hover over yours.

“How could I not be hurt that such a beautiful woman was showing no interest in me?”

“I assume that means me,” you teased.

“It does.”

“And what makes you think I’m interested now?”

“Well, aside from the fact that you have no protest to my current hand placement, you were very clearly interested in the prospect of joining me in the bedroom earlier-”

A harsh slap to his arm cut the rest of that sentence off.

He let out a loud, hearty laugh.

“You are very handsome, Captain,” you started.

“Please go on.”

“But I can’t say I’m terribly interested,” you said.

“And why is that?”

“You know every man in this world has heard of your terrifying power. How strong and feared you are.”

His face was gleaming with pride.

You laughed to yourself. He really thought he had you wrapped around his finger.

“But every woman? Every woman has heard of-”

“My muscles?”

“No.”

“Then surely, my devastatingly good looks?”

“Also no.”

“Then enlighten me.”

“How quickly you leave the morning after.”

He stood still, completely silenced.

You leaned towards him, hovering your lips millimeters away from his.

“But I have to admit that I liked seeing you jealous.”

You gently pulled his hands from your waist, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Goodnight, Captain.”

kidd

1.1k words

Generally speaking, dealing with men was a daily occurrence you could do without.

You were getting better at turning them down, and in your years of experience learned that the best course of action was to bat your eyes and appeal to them, maybe even adopt an apologetic tone, and softly say to them,

“I’m so sorry! I’m just not looking for anything right now.”

Telling them you had a boyfriend only encouraged them to try harder, being rude invited violence and the use of the word ‘bitch’, and ignoring them often led to all of the above.

Of course, if you decided to tell them who your boyfriend was they’d probably leave you alone but it was probable that you’d be accused of lying and you hated having to use his name to be shown some respect or decency.

Ideally, your boyfriend would never know.

The only thing he didn’t seem to be able to control was his temper, and if there was one thing you didn’t want to deal with it was how unbearably possessive he got when he was upset.

And since the majority of the time it was innocent flirting, you just brushed it off.

You woke up and stretched yourself out on the bed, pulling the covers off of you and Kidd.

“There’s a farmer’s market in town today! Wanna come? I really want peaches and we don’t grow any here.”

He groaned and rolled over on his side, facing away from you.

You grabbed his bicep and placed kisses up and along his neck, your movement and eagerness urging him to wake up.

“Please! You never go out with me,” you said, the tone of your voice pulling at a few of his heartstrings.

“I can’t today.”

“You never can.”

You sat up and moved toward the edge of the bed.

The pirate stayed in bed, silently.

“I have… stuff to do, princess,” he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into him.

You couldn’t help but smile at his embrace, you knew this was the closest you’d get to an apology.

“Alright,” you said, “Well I’m gonna go now before it gets too hot out.”

He begrudgingly let go of you, watching as you disappeared into your closet.

He was in a worse mood than usual throughout the entirety of the day and spent his time huffing and puffing around.

He felt guilty that he hadn’t given you the attention he knew you deserved and when he checked the clock and saw it was half past four in the afternoon and you still weren’t back he had to stop himself from breaking everything in the room.

He contained the oncoming rampage as best he could and made his way toward the village. He walked through crowds of people and his irritation was nearing its peak when he saw you.

You had a basket full of different fruits and vegetables and jarred things and a few different wine bottles. It looked heavy and you were clearly struggling to carry it.

He had half a mind to take some of the weight off with a string or two, but decided against it, his irritation getting the best of him.

You made your way to another stall, selling flowers and before you could place your basket on the floor, a young man offered to carry it for you.

He was smiling from ear to ear, and much to the captain’s disgust looked extremely eager to help you.

You smiled back and accepted his offer, handing him the basket, which he happily held for you.

At least she doesn’t have to carry it, he thought, his cheeks turning red with anger.

But he stayed standing where he was and decided to watch the scene before him play out.

You grabbed a few different flower bouquets and turned to the boy to ask for his opinion, it seemed you liked the dark red carnations.

He nodded and you reached into your pockets to grab a few coins.

You laughed when your hand came out empty and began placing the flowers back.

Before you could the boy interjected and offer the vendor a few berries.

Kidd’s body temperature reached a peak and he saw red.

He violently pushed people out of his way, walking towards you, causing a scene as he yelled, “Oi! If you need money, I have some!!!”

Fuck.

You recognized his voice and turned around as though you’d just been caught in the middle of a murder.

“Kidd! I thought you were busy today-”

“Don’t,” he said, turning towards the boy, his metallic hand making its way toward his throat, “I suggest you hand me the basket and fuck off.”

Your cheeks were red with embarrassment and you offered an apologetic look to the boy, who looked ready to cry.

You placed the flowers in your basket- the vendor readily waved any charge - and with Kidd’s hand firmly set on your waist, made your way back to the ship.

“You know he was just being nice, right? And it’s your fault I needed help carrying the basket since you were busy doing ‘stuff’.”

The air quotes you placed around stuff pissed him off.

He stayed silent and you knew that he felt bad.

But you didn’t really care, and you were pissed off. Not only had he caused a scene, but he had pretty much ensured that any other shopping you had planned for the day would have to be left unfinished.

“And if you really want something to be upset about, you should probably know that I didn’t even pay for half of those things because when men see a pretty woman all on her own, they figure she needs some help and are always more than ready to offer it.”

The veins on Kidd’s forehead were popping out and he clamped his mouth shut.

“But I get it! Playing poker and building legos with Killer all day is more important, so don’t get upset at me or the man actually offering to help me.”

You stormed off once you got to the ship and ignored him for the rest of the night.

Heat and Wire laughed their asses off at their moping captain, and Killer went to have some tea with you later that night.

When you went shoe shopping the following day, Kidd made sure he was by your side the entire time, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t get him to let go of your hand.

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on-a-lucky-tide · 2 months ago

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teehee its my birthday buuuuuut i am here clawing for nikprice on the ground like a chicken. anyway i wonder how would a nikprice drunk confession go. i just love that trope to death lol

It's your birthday? Happy birthday, mate! A small gift...

Price gets a medal and then gets drunk at the after party. Nik is surprised to hear what he has to say. No one else - and I mean, no one else - is.

cw: alcohol, drunken kiss.

"I hate these bloody things," Price mumbled into his scotch, staring bleary-eyed at his own reflection in the mirror behind the bar. His speech had been short, concise, and he had spent the majority of it talking about the bravery and dedication of his Task Force. The rest of 'em had prattled on for ages about themselves, preening their egos with the new metal on their chests.

"It is a party in your honour, captain. You did a brave thing. And," Nik leaned back to pluck a canapé from the tray of a passing waitress, "there is free food." He pulled the honey-soaked sausage off the cocktail stick and chucked it in the air, catching it in his open mouth, much to the consternation of a gaggle of RAF officers nearby.

None of them were brave enough to let Nikolai see or hear what they thought of him, because they had all heard enough whispers of his service record to steer well clear. Even top brass were scared enough of him to overlook his multiple active Interpol arrest warrants so that he could attend.

Price smiled as Nik chewed, clearly pleased with his feat of dexterity, and then proceeded to slosh his scotch all over himself as he leaned his elbow against the bar... but missed said bar by about an inch and a half. "Bollocks," he growled, as expensive alcohol soaked into the equally expensive wool of his number one uniform.

Nik chuckled, snatching up a handful of serviettes from the bar. "I am starting to think you are a lightweight," he said, swivelling around in his bar stool so that his knees bracketed Price's, a folded serviette pressed to Price's chest to soak out some of the scotch.

"'M not," Price... slurred, fuck, maybe he was. "You wearin' cologne?"

"Da, number one majesté impériale."

"Sounds posh," Price said, lifting his scotch for another swig.

"Hm, it is $215,000 a bottle."

Price choked on his drink, spluttering it back into the glass. "You spent nearly four times my salary on some cologne?" He wheezed.

"It is a special occasion."

"Bloody fucking christ, Nik. It's a medal ceremony, not a bloody coronation."

"It is more important to me," Nik said, "because it is you."

Price felt his cheeks and ears warm. It didn't help that Nik's big hands were still on his chest, careful to pluck away the stray fibres of serviette from where it clung to the damp wool. This close, Price couldn't help but stare.

Fuck, he was so... handsome.

Nik had made an effort to look, and smell, his best. In his expensive tailored three-piece, no tie, because... well, who would be brave enough to tell Nikolai to put on a fuckin' tie? The open top button gave Price a really good view of his chest hair peeking through at the top. Oh, fuckin'... Hot, it was hot in here. Damn uniform.

"Careful, captain, you will fall," Nik said softly, palm pressed to the centre of Price's chest. Price had been leaning forward. Leering. Oh, this was embarrassing. He cleared his throat, shuffled back, and beckoned the barman over for a refill.

Two more glasses, one of vodka and another of scotch, and Price chanced a glance over at Nik again. "Thanks... for, uh, coming to this. The boys like the schmoozin', Simon doesn't stay longer than the talks, don't blame him, but, I, uh..."

"You find it hard to navigate the politics because you are honest and they," Nik waved his hand vaguely around the room, "are not."

Price smiled faintly. "Yeah, guess so. Full of compliments today, Nik. Man might get the wrong idea."

"Or... the right idea."

Price froze with the glass halfway up to his mouth. Even through the drunken dog, he managed to parse the meaning behind that. In payment, however, his brain had decided to bury his entire knowledge of the English language, so all he could do was make a small noise in the back of his throat, which he smothered with a large mouthful of scotch.

Nik hadn't turned in his stool, his knees still spread wide either side of Price's, and Price wanted to shuffle a little closer. He wanted those hands back on his chest, and he wanted... Christ, he just wanted. He had wanted for a long fuckin' time.

"Here," Nik said, sliding a plate of sausages over to Price. "It will absorb some of the scotch."

"Urf, naw, can't stomach that shit..."

"Then we shall go elsewhere."

"Wot?"

"Come, captain. The sergeants left for the clubs ten minutes ago."

"They did? Bastards..."

"Da. I will get your coat."

The fresh evening air hit Price like a sledge hammer to the face, and he was pretty sure he would have fallen in the gutter without Nikolai to lean on. He was intimately aware of the strong arm around his waist, one of his hands clinging onto Nik's expensive wool coat as they staggered into the local Maccy D's for a Big Mac and chicken nugget share box.

Nik paid for it, flashing his most charming smile at the young girl behind the counter as he collected the highly decorated SAS captain from where he was clinging onto a nearby condiments bench for support, takeaway bag in hand.

They ended up sat on a bench by the Thames, dressed to the nines, Nik smelling of thousand dollar cologne as he wolfed down over-salted MacDonald's chips at Price's side, and Price couldn't stop staring at him.

Nik could be anywhere else. Anywhere. He could be partying with the wealthiest men and women in the world, walking among the elite, and yet here he was sitting in London eating shitty fast food with a drunk soldier. He chose Price every time. Every time. Price felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. "Nikolai..."

"Da, captain."

"I think I love you."

Nik grinned, huffing a soft chuckle. "Mmhm."

"No, no," Price swiped his beret off, which had somehow managed to cling onto his head while they had staggered through the mean streets of Westminster. "I... I'm serious. I... I love you. Have for, uh," he hiccuped, fucking hiccuped, tried to recover by puffing into his clenched fist, "...have for a while," he squeaked. Oh, fuck, was that indigestion?

Nik put his box of chicken nuggets aside and turned, arm draped over the back of the bench. He slid a gloved hand under Price's chin and turned his head up. Seconds later, they were kissing. Fucking... Nik's fucking lips were on Price's and, and...

Price hiccuped again.

Nik chuckled into his mouth, before drawing away to smooth his thumb through Price's beard. "This is not how I imagined it, but it is... somehow, right."

Price's face was bright red, he could feel it burning, and his eyes were wide. "You, uh... You..."

"For many, many years, solnyshko."

"We've... that's a... a long time." Price said softly.

"I am a patient man. And you are worth waiting for."

After that, Price didn't really recall much. The MacDonald's hit the deck and Price climbed Nikolai like a bloody tree. They ended up in his hotel room, with Nik's expensive suit and Price's (honestly, perhaps slightly less) expensive uniform on the floor. It might have gone further than boyish fumbling if Price hadn't fallen asleep face down in the pillows after saying he didn't want to take advantage of Nik in his current state. Nik had chuckled at that and laid down next to him, stroking his hair.

Price woke up in the morning with a sore head and a dry mouth, and found Nik sitting by the open window in a hotel dressing gown. "Nik, did I..."

"Nyet, captain. You were an absolute gentleman." Nik put the newspaper aside and took his glasses off, delivering the waiting pint of water and aspirin to Prices hands. "Do you... remember what you said?"

Price's cheeks reddened. "Yeah, look, I'll understand if--"

He didn't get to finish. Nik kissed him squarely on his stupid mouth, stroking a big palm through his hair. When he drew back, he hummed softly. "Drink that and then we will go to breakfast," he said, walking away. Price couldn't help but stare as the dressing gown slid down his broad back, revealing a full arse framed in black boxers. "And brush your teeth."

Price downed the water and staggered from beneath the duvet. He was ready to head down within ten minutes, desperate for a strong coffee and a greasy sarnie. Unfortunately, the rest of his task force, Los Vaqueros, Chimera, Laswell and a handful of her agents happened to be in the dining room already.

"Eyy, there he is!" Gaz called, toasting his mug of coffee.

Soap looked round, glanced at Nik and then back at Price. "Fuckin' finally."

Laswell rested her chin on her palm. "Bagged your man then, Nik. Well done."

Price blinked, squinting in the bright morning light. "So you all--"

Simon walked past, his plate heaped with bacon and eggs, and shoved a coffee into his captain's hand before patting his shoulder. "Yeah. Everyone did 'cept you."

Price looked at Nik for help, only to receive a shrug and a quirked eyebrow before Nik wandered off to the buffet.

"Bloody bastards," Price muttered, glancing at each triumphant face, thumbs up and smirk, before slumping into a nearby chair. Bloody. Bastards

#captain john price #cod nikolai #nikprice #cod #call of duty

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oneforthemunny · 1 year ago

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hot blooded |boxer!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: eddie's boxing at underground fight clubs to make money. after a victory match, he meets you at the bar. or the beginning of you and boxer!eddie.

contains: mean reader and mean eddie lol. mainly fluff. eddie munson au. happy one year!

Bloodied knuckles raised in the dim light of the bar, a triumphant yell mixed with a grunting of disappointment of those who bet against him when Eddie’s hand was raised, declared the winner. Henry Harrington fisted a wad of cash into Eddie’s hand; six thousand dollars, enough for the entry fee for the middleweight match at the end of the month.

Mr. Harrington snickered, clapping Eddie on the back. “Help yourself to anything at the bar, alright? On me tonight, Champ, you earned it.” And for a fleeting moment Eddie pictured busting his nose, knocking the smug man clean onto the concrete of the bar, letting his blood pool at his feet.

Instead, he shoved on the robe they gave, covered up his sticky, sweat soaked skin, blossoming with bruises and cuts he’d still hadn’t gotten to tend to. Maybe Max would still be up when he got back home, she could patch up the ones he couldn’t reach.

“Double Blanton’s on the rocks.” Eddie grumbled to the cocktail waitress in front of him, not bothering to meet her gaze as he unwrapped his tape from his knuckles.

She didn’t move. Electric red nails on her hip, the others drumming against the mahogany of the bar. Eddie lifted his gaze, lids throbbing with dull pain that was just beginning to set in. “What?”

“You’re bleeding.” Your eyes rolled over his frame, stopping at the cut on his jaw, dripping onto his robe, crimson droplets on the bar.

“Yeah.” Eddie clicked with annoyance. “No shit. Double Blanton’s-”

“-You’re bleeding all over my bar.” Your nail jabbed onto the counter, next to the splotches of blood dripping there.

Eddie blinked, unimpressed, annoyed. “Can you make me my fuckin’ drink or not?” You don’t move, staring at him still, nails still clicking against the counter.

“For fucksake,” Eddie huffs, teeth gritting, reaching over the edge of the bar to swipe the napkins off from your station. Palm slapping on the counter, wiping up the small spot. “There. Happy? Good? Can I get my fuckin’ drink now?”

Pushing up from your stance, you swiped the glass from the clean stack, setting it on the counter. Eddie huffed, slumping back in his chair. He should’ve just gone home, he bristled, familiar agitating heat rising in his chest, clenching his fists.

“Harrington’s tab?” You lifted your gaze to his, yanking the cork out of the bottle by the brass horse.

Eddie’s steely gaze met yours. “What?”

“Harrington’s tab?” You repeated, slower, tone teetering on an edge. “You’re on Harrington’s tab, correct?” You huffed, nodding down towards the man at the end of the bar.

“Yeah.” Eddie grunted.

You rolled your eyes, a heavy pour of the bourbon you didn’t bother to measure. “The fuck is your problem?” Eddie’s palm slapped the bar, an echoing of a hit that the people next to him scurrying away. “Are you just a bitch for fun or do you have something against me?”

“You came bleeding all over my bar,” You scoffed, brow raised in a dangerously demanding way. “Don’t bother to ask for a napkin, or even acknowledge me, really. And I’m a bitch?”

Eddie’s tongue rolled over the front of his teeth, knee bouncing furiously under him. “Sorry, I’m not feeling up to small talk. I just got done gettin’ the shit knocked outta me for six rounds. Did you miss that, sweetheart? Not see all the fuckin’ people in the middle of the room?”

“No, I was a little busy.” You were quick, response rolling off your tongue in a fiery whip of an answer easily. “Busy working.”

“Yeah? What the fuck do you think I was doin’?” Eddie scoffed. “Holding a fuckin’ tea party for the Sunday Social over there? I was working too.”

“Working?” You snort, rolling your eyes again. Eddie’s teeth clench. “You call that working?”

“I got paid.” Eddie hissed. “What would you call it? Since you seem to know everything?”

“Not enough money in the world to make me do that for them.” You narrow your eyes at him. “Hardly call that working, it’s so demeaning.”

“Demeaning,” Eddie repeated, rolling his eyes. “I provide entertainment, sweetheart. Same as you do, I’m sure.” He nodded down towards your tiny dress of a uniform.

“Entertainment? That’s entertaining?” You nodded towards the ring.

“Yeah, it is. Boxing? A lot of people find it entertaining. Thought you would know that.” Eddie snapped, viscous, defensive.

“Watching two grown men beat the shit out of each other, so these other grown men can bet on you like horses?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes with a sneer. “No, can’t say that’s very entertaining to me.”

“So why are you here then, huh?” Eddie scoffed, jaw clenching in irritation. “Just here for your wonderful personality?”

Your lips twitched, the fainting of a smile, surprising Eddie. “Something like that.” Your lips rolled, twisting back to their resting snarl. “Here for the same reason you are, I guess.” You set the glass on a black napkin, sliding it over to Eddie.

“Yeah, why’s that?”

You cut your eyes towards Mr. Harrington, loudly talking and howling in laughter at the other end of the bar. “Money’s good. Right?” Your eyes squint, nearly in challenge.

“Let me know if you need anything else.” You purred, throwing a wink in his direction. Eddie’s head was spinning, and not only from all the punches he’d taken.

He blamed it on his spinning head clouding his thoughts when he waved you over again, ordered another. And another. And a final one. When his head was swimming, mind a little clouded, nerves a lot calmer, he called you over again.

“Another?” Your brow raised, snagging his empty glass off the counter.

“No.” Eddie shook his head, the ache in his knuckles starting to set in. “What if it wasn’t here that I was fighting?”

“What?” You scoffed. “What are you talking about?”

“You said it was demeaning in here.” Eddie’s finger jabbed the counter for emphasis. “What if it wasn’t here?”

You squinted at him, lips pulling in a line that had his heart skipping. “Are you drunk?” Your voice fell flat, unamused. “Do you need me to call you a ride home-”

“-If it was at a real place.” Eddie continued, eyes never leaving yours, an intensity in them that started and intrigued you. “A real match at a real rink with real people. Nobody betting, just two guys fighting for a title. Would it be demeaning then?”

You paused, watching him carefully, studying him nearly. “I guess not.” You answered cooly, level and calmly.

“So you’d watch that then?”

“What?” You snarled. “Are you alright? Do you need me to call someone, or-”

“-Would you come watch me fight if it was at a real place?” Eddie asked, eyes narrowed in the same way they were before, burning you right to your very core. “In Bloomington in a few weeks.”

Your fingers pressed into your hip, willing yourself to stay composed, not falter though your heart skipped at his ask. “Maybe.” You sighed sharply. “I still don’t get the whole beating each other for fun thing-”

“-You don’t have to.” Eddie rolled his eyes, lighter this time, more playful. “Thanks for the drink.” Eddie pushed his chair back, groaning lowly when he pulled himself out of the bar stool, body stiff and tight. “Sorry for bleeding all over your bar.”

You bit back a smile, fighting the way your lips twitched, tracking him with your eyes. “No problem, Champ.” You quipped, eyes flashing in a daring way that had Eddie smirking, shaking his head.

“See you around.” Eddie waved, one last look over his shoulder that had you burning, turning to empty his glass, hoping to hide your fluster.

You were shocked the next day when two tickets in an envelope were waiting for you in the office, Mr. Harrington’s exaggerated tone about how much Eddie liked you. And he must have, you decided, looking at the small note that had his phone number scribbled at the bottom.

Eddie never heard back from you, let it slip his mind in the next weeks of training. Of course you hadn’t come, why would you have? You made your opinions abundantly clear to him that night.

Still, he was shocked to see you, in the sea of the crowd, sitting in the row by his corner, arms wrapped around your torso, looking a little more than unsure. You even waved at him, small and shy, and Eddie was sure his cheeks were going to split with how wide he smiled.

He invited you back to his locker room after he won, a victory Camel hanging from his busted lip, torso still covered in a sheen of sweat. You had no issues this time when the blood from his busted lip dripped on your sneakers, when it smeared over your own lips when he kissed you, pressed against the cement walls, bruised knuckles and fingers in your hair.

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charliedawn · 3 months ago

Note

Do you still accept orders? If so, I'd like to see a post about how slashers would react to seeing a nurse as a single mother with a baby in her arms and taking him to work. I became obsessed with the idea of her carrying her baby in a carrier while she works. Note: I need our Uncle Bates in love with this baby!

HAPPY FRIDAY THE 13th !

Norman Bates:

Norman was surprised when he first saw you with a baby. It had been a few months since he had last seen you and he didn’t know why you had decided to suddenly leave until…He opened the door and here you were, as radiant as ever and with a baby in your arms. You then asked him to watch your baby for a second as you walked in and brought your luggage in with you.

Norman looked at the absolute sunshine in his arms and it didn’t take him long for him to love him. He immediately started singing a lullaby to the baby while gently swaying him left and right.

"Hush, little baby, don’t you cry; Uncle Normy’s going to sing you a lullaby. Hush little baby don’t say a word; Uncle Normy’s going to buy you a mockingbird. If that mockingbird won’t sing, Uncle Normy’s going to buy you a golden ring. If that gold ring turns to brass, Uncle Normy’s going to buy you a looking glass. If that glass begins to crack, Uncle Normy’s going to buy you a jumping jack. If that jumping jack is broke, Uncle Normy’s going to buy you a velvet cloak. If that velvet cloth is coarse, Uncle Normy’s going to buy you a rocking horse. If that rocking horse won’t rock, Uncle Normy’s going to buy you a cuckoo clock. If that cuckoo clock won’t tick, Uncle Normy’s going to buy you a walking stick. If that walking stick falls down, you’ll still be the sweetest little baby in town…"

Michael Myers:

When he saw the baby in your arms, Michael smiled and understood that you had left for a very good reason. The other slashers were a bit shocked or surprised at the sight of him. You showed your baby to them with a proud smile and all the slashers seemed to adopt the child pretty quickly. But then…Michael realised that you had brought a baby in a SLASHERS’ asylum. He looked at Penny and Pennywise who used to eat children, at Jack who almost killed his own kid, at Jason and Brahms who could crush the little one in their big arms, at Freddy who was well…Freddy.

The moment you had to leave the baby alone for a moment to get back to work, all the slashers looked curiously at the kid…Before anyone could touch the baby however, Michael had swooped him in his arms and glared warningly at the other slashers.

Yeah. That baby won’t leave Michael’s sight.

Penny/Pennywise:

MAYDAY ! MAYDAY ! BABY IN DANGER ! I REPEAT ! BABY IN DANGER !

Penny is working on himself. Yes.

And he had a kid himself. True.

But that doesn’t mean he can be left unsupervised with a child.

If you care about that baby, do not leave him alone with Penny or Pennywise unless it is absolutely necessary.

And if you have to leave him in one of the Penny Brothers’ care ? Choose Pennywise. Pennywise has better self control. And the baby has better chances of survival with Pennywise than Penny.

Pennywise would keep the baby at bay.

Penny could hurt the child without meaning to.

Biting him. Eating a leg or an arm. And he would then smile happily at you with blood around his mouth and say that he didn’t know that babies were so fragile. So, be very careful.

Jack Torrance:

Jack was having a drink at the bar when he saw a baby crawling towards him. He looked around and saw that you had gone to discuss hospital business with another nurse.

He looked back at the baby who was still crawling towards him. And then, the baby attempted to stand up and Jack’s eyes widened as the little baby started staggering forward.

He smiled and was about to call you to witness that incredible performance when the baby started losing balance and threatened to fall.

Jack’s pint of beer dropped and crashed to the floor in his hurry to grab the falling baby. He fortunately managed to catch him in time and you were relieved when you saw it.

For the rest of the afternoon, the baby sat on Jack’s leg while he was drinking his second pint of beer. You even smiled as you noticed that your baby started imitating him with the milk bottle that Jack held to his mouth.

Brahms Heelshire:

Brahms was happy to hear the news and he smiled when he saw the baby. He begged you to let him hold him and was thrilled when you agreed. He took the baby in his arms gently and smiled softly at the baby in his arms before carrying him to his bedroom.

Brahms then proceeded to give him a full tour and show the baby all of his toys and plushies. He then set the baby down in front of his pile of favourite plushies. The baby chose one and started drooling on it enthusiastically.

The plushie was the baby’s first gift.

And years later, your baby would know and remember the nice masked man who had given him that plushie. Brahms stayed alongside you and watched the baby grow. They played and had much fun together. And even when your baby became an adult, Brahms kept watching over him…to the very end.

Freddy Krueger:

You actually just dumped your baby in Freddy’s arms and left. Both the baby and Freddy stared at each other in surprise before Freddy looked back up at you.

"What ? No no no. Hey ! Get back here ! Get that thang away from me !" He shouted, but you ignored him. You knew that Freddy didn’t like babies, but you had no choice. He was the closest to you and you had things to do.

Freddy sighed in defeat when he saw that you weren’t coming back before looking down at the baby who was staring at him with those weird big baby eyes…Freddy was crept out and scared.

"Whatcha lookin’ at, ya lil’ shit ?"

The baby grinned and even laughed. Freddy raised his eyes to the sky and shook his head in disbelief.

"Great. Now, even the baby’s makin’ fun of my ol’ ass…" He sighed.

"Ass !"

Freddy was stunned when he heard that word out of nowhere. Who the heck said that ? He then had a frightening thought and looked down at the baby who was still staring at him with that wide innocent smile. He scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. Yeah right…As if. He even thought he had imagined it for a second before the baby spoke again.

"Ass !"

Freddy’s eyes widened.

Oh shit…

You were gonna kill him. But, since he was already one foot in the coffin…He grinned down at the baby.

"Yeah. That’s right. Ass. Now, let’s see if you can say tits, yeah ? Come on. Repeat after Uncle Freddy. Tits."

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #pennywise 1990 #pennywise 2017 #slashers #pennywise x reader #michael myers x reader #freddy krueger x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #jack torrance x reader #norman bates x reader

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thebearer · 1 year ago

Text

rosé flowing with your chosen family | carmen berzatto x reader|

anyways here's a blurb inspired by my lil friendsgiving i hosted and how i think it would be with carmen bc im delusional in my head lolz

"Carm, look at this for me." You frown, turning the bronzed pumpkin at the center of the table.

"Yeah, one sec," Carmen muttered, turning with the pot in his hand, stirring the whipped potatoes vigorously. "What am I looking at?"

"The table." You tilt your head to the side. "Should I just move the pumpkin? It's too much with the candles, right?" You huff, the tapered candles flickering in their brass holders.

"No, baby, looks nice. Leave it. We can move it if it gets too crowded." Carmen hummed, a tiny curl of his lips had your heart swooning. "Need to go get ready. It's six-thirty."

"I just have to put my clothes on." You wave him off, fixing a napkin so it was centered on the plate, each place card in it's assigned place. "Are you sure you don't need help?"

Carmen shot you a look, rolling his eyes playfully. "No, I got it, alright? Go get ready." He shook his head gently, pushing the asparagus around in the pan.

You scurried behind him, pinching his jean clad ass gently, grinning at how he jumped before pressing a kiss to Carmen's cheek that left him blushing.

Your first Friendsgiving hosted at your place. An apartment a little bigger than Carmen's old one, but still cozy and all your own- the two of you. What better way to spend your first holidays together than to invite your friends over?

You were fussing over the glazed carrots on the counter when Sydney arrived, always early. "Hey," She crept in awkwardly into the kitchen, her head poking around the corner. "I, uh, I brought a dessert."

"Wow, that looks amazing." You grin, taking the dish from her, hugging her briefly in greeting. "What is this?"

"It's-"

"-It's a champagne cake with whipped butter cream frosting and a light raspberry spread." Marcus finished, stepping in behind Sydney, balancing a bottle of wine and his coat. "Don't let her take all the credit. I made it."

"Ok, well, I told you to add the raspberry-"

"-Well, I was the one who made it and added it-"

"-Alright." Carmen huffed, his voice edging on the tone he used at work. "Glad you both are here, alright?. The cake looks amazing."

Marcus whistled dramatically, peering over at the food laid out on the counter tops. "Looks good in here, Chef." He grinned.

"Thanks." Carmen muttered, brushing the rolls with butter, checking the oven again.

"Do you guys want anything to drink?" You ask, pulling the fridge open. "I have rosé or wine or anything?"

"I'll take a glass of rosé." Sydney nodded, shedding off her coat and hanging it over the back of the couch.

"Yeah, better get some now." Carmen snorted lightly. "Before Alicia comes."

"I have her a backup bottle." You smirk, pulling out the bottle proudly. "Alicia and I were watching the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills reunion, right? And she-" The door closed and you turned, your best friend walking in with a huge grin.

"-And she literally brought her own bottle of rosé." You laughed, shaking your head at her.

"I did." Alicia beamed, hugging you tightly. "Carmen, I promise I will not throw up or sob on your couch this time. I'm very stable now." She grinned at Carmen's huff of laughter.

The kitchen was packed, crammed at the table, laughing and swapping stories over the food. Carmen looked at you, the glow of the candles you insisted having to make it feel more homey- they did. How you were grinning, laughing at Fak and Richie bickering, giggling to your own friends and reminiscing.

For once, the holidays didn't feel like a chore. Carmen had been dreading this dinner, not the cooking or the setting up, but having people in his space. He didn't dare say anything, you were too excited and he'd never ruin your glee like that. Still, for him, the holidays were chaotic, everybody tense and scared.

Not here.

Not next to you, surrounded by all your friends.

Carmen finally got why people loved the holidays so much, why it was the most wonderful time of the year and all that. In his tiny apartment, sitting next to the love of his life, your hand holding his gently under the table, thumb swiping over his knuckles, squeezing it lightly when you'd look at him, eyes crinkling in a smile.

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austinbutlerslovers · 7 months ago

Text

Eternal Ink 🪽

Label Mature 18+

Summary Austin is a renowned tattoo artist with his muscular physique covered in intricate ink. After careful contemplation and a little liquid courage, you decide tonight is the night you will finally get the tattoo you’ve been wanting at his shop. Upon entering, you’re immediately struck by his handsomeness and drawn in by his skill. As he works on your tattoo during a quiet, late night session, the intimacy between you two intensifies, fueling a passionate connection. At the end of the session, he satisfies you with something far more exhilarating than the tattoo.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Edging with unprofessional touch • seduction • dirty talk•nipple play•fingering•Austin covered in tattoos size kink •protection •sex on a tattoo table•multiple orgasms

Master List ••• Upcoming List

*Thank you for your votes! 🗳️ war camp will be released shortly *Please enjoy the winner tattoo 🏆

Eternal Ink 🪽

You stepped out of your car, feeling the cool night air against your skin as you made your way towards the tattoo shop. You were dressed nicely in fitted jeans a plunging halter top and mid calf leather boots. You’d been thinking about getting inked for a while now, and after a few drinks with friends for courage, tonight felt like the perfect opportunity.

Before you even set foot inside, you where well aware of this place’s unrivaled excellence, a testament to the exceptional skills of its artists. But it was the masterful artistry of the owner Austin that truly commanded attention. His reputation resounded through the city streets for his artistic brilliance.

The neon sign above the door glowed softly casting a warm light onto the pavement. ‘Eternal Ink’ it read in bold stylish letters. The sign was a striking blue its light flickering slightly creating an almost hypnotic effect. It was framed by a pair of tattooed wings that seemed to flutter with the movement of the light adding an artistic flair to the shop’s entrance.

The store front itself was equally impressive. Large glass windows allowed a glimpse into the shop’s interior, showcasing walls lined with framed tattoo designs and artwork. The door was a heavy dark wood with a polished brass handle, adding a touch of old world charm to the modern, edgy aesthetic of the shop.

Pushing the door open you were greeted by the scent of antiseptic mixed with a faint hint of bergamot. The lobby was both inviting and intimidating, a perfect blend of artistry and rugged masculinity.

Dark polished hardwood floors gleamed under the soft overhead lights, and the walls were covered in framed pieces of tattoo art each one more impressive than the last.

A plush black leather couch sat against one wall, next to a display case filled with tattoo designs and equipment. Next to the display case was a high table covered in tattoo design books. A large ornate mirror hung along the back wall reflecting the lobby making it feel even larger.

At this late hour it seemed the only occupant of the shop was the owner Austin working behind the counter organizing ink bottles.

He stood with his back to you his tall fit frame outlined against the soft lighting from the glass shelving he stood in front of.

His sandy brown hair was slightly tousled giving him a rugged yet polished look. The muscles on his back and shoulders were clearly defined, each contour accentuated by the soft lighting.

Tattooed angel wings adorned his shoulders, their intricate details peeking out from beneath the fabric of the black muscle tee clinging to his athletic form.

His chiseled arms were a canvas of intricate tattoos, each design seamlessly flowing into the next all the way up to his neck and down to his wrists. For a moment, you simply stood there, captivated by the sight of him.

The way he moved with such confidence and ease was mesmerizing. As he turned your eyes met and your breath instantly hitched in your throat as his piercing blue eyes locked onto yours. He was irresistibly attractive.

“Hey there,” he said eyeing you in return, his voice was smooth and deep with a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. He stepped around the counter and extended his hand.

“I’m Austin. How can I help you tonight?” you took his hand feeling the strength and warmth of his grip. Your eyes locked again and you felt a spark of something more pass between you.

His touch was firm yet gentle, his skin warm and roughened slightly from years of tattooing.

“Hi..yeah…” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. “I was hoping to get a tattoo tonight. Am I too late?”

His smile deepened, and he held your hand a moment longer than necessary before letting go.

“You’re just in time,” he said not even glancing at a clock. “What are you thinking about getting?” He asked as his gaze traveled subtly down your body, taking in your curves with a look of appreciation that sent a thrill through you.

When your eyes meet again Austin’s gaze lingered on yours and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement mixed with nervousness.

Despite his commanding presence there was a warmth in his eyes that put you at ease.

You shifted slightly, suddenly unsure of what tattoo you wanted. “I’m not exactly sure what I want,” you admitted, feeling a bit sheepish.

Austin’s smile remained “No worries, Let’s take a look at some tattoo books. We’ll find something that speaks to you.” He said reassuringly and gestured you to follow him to the high table in the lobby which was adorned with a variety of tattoo design books.

As you flipped through the pages together his hand would occasionally brush against your sending sparks of electricity flying through you.

You slowly regained your composure and began to explain your idea to him, a small intricate design on your inner hip, something personal and meaningful. He listened intently, his eyes focused on you with understanding as you discussed the details.

Then with a fluid motion, he pulled open a drawer from the table, retrieving his sketch book and flipping open a fresh page. “How about this?” he suggested his hand moving slowly as he sketched a design on the piece of paper.

Once finished, he handed it over for your approval and as you examined the drawing in your hand, you realized it was exactly what you had envisioned, perfect in every detail.

“That’s it!” you said your voice filling with excitement. “I love it!”

As your eyes lifted from the drawing to his you could see a hint of pride in his expression as a warm smile spread across his lips.

“I’m glad you like it,” he replied, his voice low and genuine as his eyes lingered on you. “Let’s get you set up.”

He led you to a back room, his private tattoo space that exuded a dark masculine energy. The walls were painted a deep charcoal gray adorned with framed photos and artwork. Black leather furniture sleek and stylish filled the room. The scent of leather mixed with the faint aroma of ink and antiseptic created an edgy atmosphere.

There was a large framed picture of Austin on a powerful motorcycle above his desk, looking every bit the rugged artist that he was. Next to it were pieces of his favorite designs, detailed and vibrant tattoos that showcased his incredible talent.

In the center of the room was a black leather tattoo chair, its surface smooth and inviting. It looked like a throne, commanding attention in the dim lighting.

Austin gestured for you to sit and as you settled into the chair he pressed a button making you lay all the way flat, filling you with a mix of excitement and nerves.

"First time?" he asked, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he turned on his work light and directed its beam on your hip.

“Yeah,” you admitted, laughing nervously. “Go easy on me?”

He chuckled, a warm, reassuring sound. “I’ll take good care of you, don’t worry.”

As Austin prepared the equipment, his movements were precise and confident. The room was quiet the only sounds being the snap of his black gloves fitting onto his hands and the soft buzz of the machine as he tested it.

You took a breath and unbuttoned your jeans pulling them down low to reveal your right hip bone. His eyes remained steady on his task as he cleaned your skin.

His touch was gentle and professional, yet still he managed to send a shiver down your spine.

“Ready?” he asked, looking up at you with his intense blue eyes.

You took another deep breath and nodded. “Ready.”

Austin’s eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to the task at hand.

He dipped the needle into the ink, and his fingers pressed lightly against your skin. As the needle touched your skin a sharp burning sensation shot through you. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, painful and sharp, but also exhilarating.

The intensity of the sensation was constant but there was a rhythm to it, a hypnotic quality that made it bearable. You winced a bit biting your lip as the discomfort quickly began to mix with a strange, almost pleasurable sensation.

Austin paused for a moment lifting his gaze to meet yours. “You doing alright?” he asked with his hand gently rested on your hip.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah, I’m okay. It hurts, but it’s… different. Not as bad as I expected.”

He gave you a small, understanding smile. “Just let me know if it gets too much, alright? We can take a break if you need.”

His words were comforting and the way he looked at you with genuine care made you feel completely at ease despite the pain. You nodded and he returned to his work.

The needle continued its steady hum and his fingers occasionally brushed against your skin to wipe away any excess ink. The sensation of his touch, coupled with the steady rhythm of the needle ignited a wave of arousal within you, transforming the discomfort into a tantalizing pleasure.

You found yourself captivated by his face as he worked. His handsome features were well defined, his high cheekbones and strong jawline catching the light of the overhead lamp as he worked.

His intense focus made him even more attractive, the way his brows furrowed as he concentrated, his full lips pressing together in a thin line of determination.

Each time his eyes flicked up to meet yours it sent a thrill through you, unable to deny your desire for him. It became evident he felt the same way as the depth of his emotions mirrored your own, the undeniable attraction between you both conveyed through each intense gaze.

He leaned in closer to fill in the intricacies of the design and you felt his warm breath against your skin, each exhale sending a gentle shiver down your spine causing you to move slightly. His grip on your hip reactively tightened. His fingers pressing into your flesh in a way that felt both possessive and protective.

“You’re doing so well for me,” he encouraged, his voice low and soothing, keeping you calm as he worked on a vital area of the design. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he manipulated the needle in delicate lines of precision.

His face displayed such a focused intensity as he masterfully inked the tattoo needle into your skin that it made you feel a mixture of anticipation and exhilaration knowing his skilled hands were marking your body permanently.

You calmed your urges focusing on the steady rhythm of his breathing and the gentle caress of his hand, until it transformed into something more.

His fingers began to trail across your skin with a subtle intimacy that stirred the arousal in you once more and you couldn’t help but fixate on his hands. You began feeling increasingly turned on by the way his fingers moved with purpose, each touch deliberate and confident, sending waves of desire coursing through you.

The warmth of his touch and the firmness of his grip stirred a deep lust within you. As his fingers ventured closer to your pelvic line, your pulse quickened, and your breath hitched in your throat.

Austin looked up at you again, this time the intensity of his stare sent a thrill through you. There was a spark there that ignited within a wordless heat growing more intense between you two at every passing moment.

He paused, leaning back to wipe away any excess ink, his fingertips trailing along your hip in a tantalizing manner. The deliberate slowness of his touch sent waves of excitement through you, intensifying the already electric atmosphere.

Sensing your attraction for him he couldn’t help but feel a surge of his own desire rising. Firmly gripping your hip he began seductively tracing his thumb along the edge of your tattoo.

Each stroke elicited a soft gasp and a subtle shift in your breathing a silent acknowledgment of the pleasure he was bestowing upon you. As your eyes met he gazed at you with an allure that made it clear his touch fueling your arousal was intentional.

“You have very beautiful skin,” he said softly, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and desire. His gaze traveled down your body lingering on the curve of your hip where he was tattooing. “Perfect canvas.” He said passionately.

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, your body reacting to the intensity of his gaze and the intimacy of his words.

“You’re doing incredibly well for your first tattoo,” he praised, his voice a blend of reassurance and seduction. “Almost done,” he confirmed.

His eyes locked onto yours with a smoldering intensity, and a playful smirk formed on his lips revealing his desire for you.

You nodded, unable to speak, your body trembling slightly with the intensity of the experience.

His touch returned even more intimate than before as if he was savoring the contact, making your breath hitch and your heart race on each touch. The warmth of his hand and his fingertips lingered after every stimulating touch, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake as you became wet for him.

His eyes lifted to meet yours with a mischievous glint dancing within them. He spread his large hand wider across your pelvis, keeping the needle centered, as his fingers sensually teased under your panty line. The intimate touch ignited a fire within you, and it was evident he relished the effect. His smile only adding to the allure, intensifying your desire for him.

The sculpted muscles of his bicep flexed subtly as he finalized the design, showcasing the intricate tattoos adorning his own skin. Every movement he made captivated you, from the ink on his forearms to the designs gracing his neck. With each glimpse, your arousal heightened, fueled by an intense curiosity about the hidden artistry concealed beneath his clothing.

When he finally lifted the needle for the last time you let out a shaky breath, feeling a rush of relief and exhilaration from the intimate experience.

“All done,” he said, sitting back and snapping off his black gloves admiring his work. “Take a look.”

As you sat up he offered his hand, helping you to stand. You walked to the full length mirror in the room, lifting your shirt and pulling your jeans lower to admire your new tattoo.

It was beautiful, exactly what you had envisioned. The lines were clean and precise, the design was delicate yet striking. You turned to him filled with gratitude and something deeper swelling in your chest.

Before you could second guess yourself, you closed the distance between you stepping into his space with purpose. “It’s perfect,” you praised, your voice tinged with a hint of arousal.

You reached for him with a flicker of uncertainty dancing within as you gently placed your hands on his broad chest. “Thank you, Austin,” you breathed, your voice barely audible as you gazed up into his striking blue eyes overcome with desire.

He looked utterly irresistible, his hair tousled in a way that only added to his allure, a few strands falling playfully over his forehead and framing his beautiful blue eyes. His features exuded a quiet confidence and undeniable charm, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief as they met yours.

His full lips curved into a smile and he pulled you in closer slowly wrapping his arms around your waist. "Stay a while?" he asked, his voice was a deep rich tone sending a surge of anticipation through you.

“I’d love to,” you breathed and he lowered his lips onto yours in a passionate kiss, the intensity of the moment flooded through you entirely. His kiss was tender yet hungry as his hands roamed your back holding you tightly against him.

You broke apart from him nearly breathless form the moment and he smiled down at you. His eyes locked onto yours showing the depth of his desire as he gently caressed the curve of your cheek.

“You know I own this place,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “So we have all the time in the world here.” He said with a smile that exuded confidence as he held your gaze.

“That’s good to know,” you replied, your voice laced with seduction. “I wouldn’t want to rush with someone as skillful as you,” you teased as you gazed up at him full of desire with a sensual smile spread across your lips.

Austin chuckled and tantalizingly traced his finger gently along your jawline “You’re something else, you know that?” He asked with his eyes narrowed.

You shrugged playfully as you responded “I get that a lot” with a hint of allure in your voice.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “I bet you do.” He said moving closer. You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks as he leaned in, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. This time it was deeper, his mouth explored yours with an intense passion that made your heart race. His tongue teased and tasted yours each movement sending jolts of electricity through you as his hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and contour.

His grip was firm yet gentle on your waist as he broke the kiss pressing you against the leather edge of the tattoo table. His body was so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him in waves. His eyes darkened with desire locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter.

He leaned in so close that his lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, “I’ve wanted you from the moment you walked in.” His words sent tingles of excitement throughout your body as he gently trailed his fingers down your arms. “I never imagined you felt the same,” he confessed, his voice thick with desire.

You felt a surge of anticipation fill you as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes with a slow sensual smile curving on his lips. Then without another word kissed you hard and demanding, his hands exploring your body gliding down your shoulders and over your chest gently squeezing the curves of your breasts through the fabric of your shirt.

His fingers teased your nipples with featherlight strokes until they hardened. Then with a tantalizing pull he gently tugged at the buds, eliciting a soft gasp of pleasure from your lips. His touch ignited a fierce desire within you, and you melted into him, your own hands reaching up to thread your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer as your mouths came together in a heated clash.

The tattoo table was sturdy behind you supporting as Austin’s kisses increased with desire. His lips moved from yours trailing down your neck, their warmth igniting a deeper lust with every tender press.

“You taste incredible,” he murmured, his voice a low caress against your skin. His teeth grazed your neck eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips as his hands roamed possessively over your curves, lingering on the bare flesh where your halter top didn’t cover.

“You feel so soft,” he whispered, his voice filled with admiration and lust, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

He brushed his hand against the skin of your neck. “I want to see every inch of you,” he said, his eyes smoldering with desire. “And I want to touch every part of you,” he said his hands traveling possessively down to grip your hips.

A shiver ran through you as you finally answered. “Then take me, Austin. I’m yours.”

Austin’s breath hitched as he heard your words fulfilling his desire. With a hungry gaze, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered “I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

His eyes darkened with lust as a smirk formed on his lips. Your consent giving him the final push to satisfy his overwhelming urge to indulge in the passion between you.

He kneeled down in front of you swiftly unzipping your boots, easing them off, one by one with a steady hand. He pulled down your jeans revealing your skin inch by inch to the cool air as he took them off. His eyes never left yours as he peered up at you hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your wet panties sliding them down until you stepped out of them.

As he stood his fingers grasped the hem of your shirt tugging it upwards. You lifted your arms, allowing him to pull it off and toss it aside. He paused for a moment, his eyes roaming over your naked form with a look of pure desire.

“You’re irresistible,” he whispered, bringing his hands to cup your breasts with adoration as his thumbs traced your nipples. His lips found their way to your neck trailing a line of soft kisses. “Do you know how beautiful you are?” he murmured against your skin as his lips continued their journey up your neck.

As you opened your mouth to answer he captured your lips in another searing kiss his tongue boldly delving into your mouth, exploring with an irresistible need.

“Austin..” you breathed, pulling back slightly, your hands sliding up his muscular arms, feeling the strength beneath his skin. “I need you,” you confessed, holding his gaze with your faces mere inches apart.

”I need you too” he whispered against your lips. His words were filled with longing and urgency and he readily lifted you onto the edge of the tattoo table positioning himself between your legs. With his body pressed firmly against yours, you felt tingles of anticipation surging through you.

He stared into your eyes as he placed his hand on your thighs, gently spreading your legs apart on the tattoo table. His passionate touch sent waves of anticipation through you.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice was thick with desire.

You nodded, your breath coming in short gasps. “Yes, exactly.”

He smiled, his hands gripping your thighs tightly. “You have no idea how badly I want you.”

You shivered at his words, the anticipation building even more. “Then don’t hold back,” you urged, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Austin’s eyes darkened with lust as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “I won’t.” he vowed.

His hand reach between your bodies and his fingers made contact with your wetness applying a gentle pressure, slowly gliding them along the slick surface of your folds. With each stroke he explored the contours of your most sensitive areas, looking into your eyes and paying attention to the subtle responses of your body.

The sensation intensified as he lingered on certain spots, teasing them with the delicate precision of his fingertips, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through you as you stared at him in shock.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice filled with desire as he looked into your eyes again seeking your confirmation. You nodded quickly as your heart raced in anticipation.

With a deliberate and tantalizing slowness he pushed his fingers deep inside, the sudden intrusion making you gasp in pleasure. The sensation was intoxicating as your walls clenched around his fingers, each movement of his expertly seeking and stimulating a sensitive spot within you.

He curled his fingers as he pushed them in and out of you sending surges of pleasure throughout your body, intensifying with every thrust as he skillfully explored your depths.

He wrapped his other hand around your throat, his lips returning to yours as he moved his fingers through you in a steady rhythm. Every touch, every kiss, and every thrust of his fingers sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your body.

The pain from the tattoo faded away, replaced by a pleasure so intense it left you breathless. You felt the familiar tightening in your core as Austin’s fingers worked, pulling along the ridge of your most sensitive spot with each skillful thrust.

With the deliberate strokes of his fingers, expertly penetrating your inner walls you felt yourself giving in to the intoxicating waves of pleasure crashing over you and began to tremble and pant into his mouth as he kissed you. His lips trailed down to your neck and he sucked on the soft skin causing your walls to flutter against his plunging fingers. “Let go for me” he whispered against your neck.

His seductive command was the final push to take you over the edge. A loud uninhibited moan escaped your lips, the sound echoing the room as he skillfully brought you a climax. Your core throbbed with the release of euphoria as sparks of ecstasy raced through every nerve ending in your body as you orgasmed.

You could barely form a coherent thought, let alone a response from the pleasure he had just allowed you to endure. “Austin!” you panted trying to form words as he stared into your eyes with a knowing grin. The desire to be consumed by him overwhelmed your mind entirely.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent as he removed his fingers from you. He brought them to his wanting mouth his eyes never leaving yours as he traced along each finger with his tongue savoring the taste of you before sucking them clean. His eyes roamed your body with a hunger that made your heart race.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said, his voice low and intimate as he leaned in capturing your lips in another erotic kiss.

You pulled your lips back to meet his gaze. “Then show me,” you whispered, the intensity of desire evident in your voice.

His eyes bore into yours with a primal desire to conquer you before he deliberate took a step back, creating space to undress.

He knelt first and unlaced his boots, removing them with his socks before setting them aside and standing back up.

You watched in anticipation as Austin gripped the hem of his muscle tee, effortlessly lifting it over his head in one fluid motion and flinging it aside.

The sight that greeted you took your breath away. His torso was a masterpiece of art and strength. His skin was covered in intricate tattoos, each one telling a story, that highlighted the sculpted muscles beneath.

His chest was broad and firm adorned with a phoenix that rose majestically in the middle, its wings spreading across his pectorals in vibrant hues of red and gold.

On his rib cage, a dragon coiled, its scales meticulously detailed, the black ink contrasting sharply against his tan skin. His abs were a series of defined ridges, leading down to the waistband of his jeans.

Austin’s gaze met yours, a smoldering heat in his blue eyes as he reached for the button of his fly. With practiced ease, he unbuttoned and slid his jeans off, revealing his long, thick cock.

You couldn’t help but gasp at its size. He was impressively endowed, his cock throbbing with desire and anticipation, every vein pulsing beneath the smooth skin was a visual testament to his undeniable readiness to claim you.

His strong, muscular legs were also decorated with tattoos. A compass adorned one thigh, its points perfectly aligned, guided by the celestial bodies and a hyper realistic wave design graced his calf, as if the ocean itself had been captured in ink.

On his other thigh, an astral pattern began that extended down to his shin, depicting a cosmic journey in ink.

He stood there for a moment, letting you take in the full view of him, his body a striking combination of raw power and delicate artistry. The room seemed to pulse with the intensity of the moment with anticipation and desire.

“You like what you see?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

You nodded, unable to find your voice.

Austin stepped closer, cock swaying as he leaned to reach his hand into the low drawer of his tattoo station. He retrieved the golden packet of a condom glinting in the low lighting as he tore it open.

You watched as he rolled the condom down his large cock with a practiced skill and a look of anticipation gleaming in his eyes.

“You ready for this?” he asked with his voice full of desire. You met his gaze, your eyes filled with a mix of excitement and longing.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart.

He returned to you, positioning himself between your thighs as you sat on the tattoo table. Every inch of him felt larger and more commanding, the embodiment of strength against your softness.

He reached down and wrapped his hand around the base of his thick shaft. With a firm grip, he guided his throbbing cock to the entrance of your soaking wet pussy, teasing the head along your slick folds, feeling the heat radiating from your core staring into your eyes.

“Ready for me?” he asked as he positioned himself at your entrance, seeking confirmation before the inevitable plunge.

You nodded eagerly, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through you wrapping your arms around his muscular back reveling in his strength

He slowly pushed forward the tip of his cock parting your lips, the sensation of his hardness pressing against your softness eliciting a loud moan from your lips.

Each inch he pressed inside made you gasp, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth, as you gripped his back tightly, your nails dug into his skin as you moaned with pleasure.

He groaned in response, easing the rest of his remarkably large cock inside of you until he filled you to your core. His eyes locked on yours as he felt your walls throbbing around his cock, trying to adjust to his size.

He brought his hands to hold your hips, steadying himself, as his lips brushed against yours.

“You feel so good on me,” he whispered capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

He withdrew his hips, slightly sliding his cock out before returning it back in smacking his hips flush with your body as his tip pressed against your core beginning his strong rhythm.

With each of his thrusts the intensity grew, driving him deeper into you sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You felt his muscular chest pressing against yours, skin sliding together with each movement as he held you firmly against him, bracing you to take the impact of each powerful thrust. His breath mingled with yours as your bodies moved in perfect rhythm.

“You feel incredible,” he groaned, his voice filled with desire staring at you for confirmation. You only gasped in response, unable to form words as the pleasure washed over you in relentless waves.

He increased his movements and your back arched with the quick jolt force of his thrusts as your skin began making slapping sounds between your bodies.

You gasped, feeling the intense pressure of his hardness against you cervix as his hips clapped between your legs.

“Yes, Austin, yes just like that!” You finally cried out, unable to contain the overwhelming pleasure of being so completely filled by him.

Austin groaned in response to your plea “You’re making me so hard,” he rasped, his voice thick with arousal as he wrapped his hand around your throat in a possessive gesture continuing to thrust into you. Each clap of his hips between your legs igniting a new wave of pleasure.

You began gasping and panting for air between moans, locking eyes with him, knowing your orgasm was imminent. His eyes met yours with a primal hunger, his grip your throat tightening, adding to the overwhelming sensation of his control as he thrust into you with unyielding determination.

You could feel every inch of his powerful body dominating yours, his strength and authority driving you wild. In that moment, you were completely lost to him.

He panted against your lips, his grip firm on your throat as he thrust into you hard and fast

“I want to feel you cum for me,” he rasped over the hard claps of his hips between yours. Each word sent shivers down your spine, and you moaned in response, unable to form coherent words as the pleasure consumed you.

“Fuck!” he whispered sharply “You feel too good.” he admitted and shut his eyes tight enduring the pleasure as he rode into you ramming you full of him.

“Yes Austin take me” you relented arching your back, eagerly meeting his thrusts with your body trembling with ecstasy. “Im gonnna cum!” You gasped.

He growled eagerly, his primal instincts taking over as he locked eyes with yours. Without hesitation, he forcefully thrust into you, each movement becoming more intense with every snap of his hips, driving you both over the edge.

Your moans of pleasure mingled in the air as he delivered his a final, powerful push and gripped you tightly as his cock spasmed releasing rope after rope of his cum into your body.

You scratched your nails down his tattooed back and cried out feeling the throbbing sensation of his cock buried against your walls.

He hungrily captured your lips in a kiss, accepting the pain and pleasure, his tongue dominating yours, igniting a fierce passion that consumed you both.

He pulled his lips from yours and the room fell silent, only the soft sounds of your breaths mingling. He looked at you with his eyes softening. “Stay with me,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “Don’t leave.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, pulling him in for another kiss.

With Austin’s muscular tattooed arms wrapping tightly around you flexing against your skin, you felt the warmth of his body pressing into yours. The fresh tattoo on your hip still tingled, a reminder of the intense connection you had just forged.

You could feel the tension building as Austin withdrew sliding his thick cock out of you with a slow and deliberate pace. Each inch leaving you causing a yearning to feel full of him all over again. When the tip finally slipped out, he immediately pulled you close, craving the intimacy of your connection once more.

In that moment as you looked into each other’s eyes you both smiled feeling completely satisfied. The depth of your connection was undeniable, a powerful bond forged in the heat of passion and intimacy. You knew that you had experienced something truly unforgettable, a moment that would remain tattooed in your hearts forever.

❤️‍🔥END❤️‍🔥

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thebastardscull · 4 days ago

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Part 2 of being Sevika’s favorite bartender!

Part 1:

She’s late.

3 hours late, in fact. Sevika’s glass has become warm and watered down and you are bored out of your mind. It’s a slow day, perfect for standing around and chatting up your favorite girl patron. You’ve had time to take all of the orders for the meager rush, to clean the bar top to bottom, organize the bottles with the labels facing out, you’ve even had three smoke breaks (which mostly just consisted of you standing next to the bouncer at the front door and looking out into the street for Sevika.)

Every time the door slams open, your head perks up. Only to look back down when you’re not met with a pair of cool grey eyes. You sweep, and mop, and clean everything until it sparkles. Silco’s goons that usually crowd in alongside Sevika just shrug when you ask where she is and get back to their card game.

Your mind is only taken off of Sevika when a man that’s been sitting in the far corner table starts getting rowdy after losing a game of dice. You feel bad for the poor bastard until he flips the table, spewing curses and pointing fingers. You keep a watchful eye on him, hoping it doesn’t go too far, until he throws the glass in his hand towards the bar. It flies over your head, glass and liquor spraying above you.

You call it, walking around the bar, getting ready to kick him out. You can handle yourself, you’ve been doing this job a long time before you and Sevika became familiar. But the man is having none of it and begins to direct his anger towards you. He’s throwing insults at you, his spit spraying in your direction until he’s red in the face. He stalks forward, poking at your shoulder and screaming every name in the book. You’re about to make your way to the bouncer at the front when the fucker tries to throw a punch at you.

It doesn’t land. Instead, a flash of copper and purple shoots past you, grabbing the man’s fist before it can hit your face. Jumping back, you look to your left, and there she is. Sevika’s standing there in all her six-foot-something, muscular, gorgeous glory. If looks could kill, the man would be dead in an instant. She shoots you a quick wink before the mechanical hand squeezes down, and a sickening ‘crunch’ resounds through the now silent bar. Your clit does not throb when she does it. That would be insane. The drunkard squeals in pain before Sevika drags him out by the arm and through the doors as you put the table back in its place.

She’s outside for a solid five minutes. You can hear her rich, bassy voice, shouting at the man as she brings more blows down onto him until the bouncer takes over. She makes her way inside, and you wouldn’t even be able to tell she was beating the daylights out of someone if it wasn’t for the small spatter of blood on the brass knuckles of her prosthetic arm. She happily walks back to you, a smile on her face, her flesh arm tucked behind her back.

“I leave you alone for a few hours, and you start fighting people?” She asks with a smirk. You only give her a huff of laughter and walk back to the bar with her, pouring her drink. She stands there rather awkwardly as you push the drink towards her, flesh hand still tucked behind her back.

“So? Where’ve you been?” Sevika’s expression turns sheepish as you question her, and she brings her human arm forward. It’s clutching a large bouquet of flowers—Your favorites. You had only mentioned it once in passing, admiring them from afar at a market stand when she walked you home one night.

She got flowers. Flowers are so hard to come by in Zaun. She got you flowers? Sevika did? She got you flowers and now she looks like a nervous teenager about to ask you to prom and she’s blushing like crazy? Sevika? Flowers?

“I uh… I got you flowers. Had to fight off a crowd to get ‘em.” The bashful smile she gives you is all teeth and the gap between the two fronts makes you weak in the knees. You can barely hear her words, they come out in a low, abashed tone. You blink and look at the flowers, and back to her. And then back to the flowers. And then back to her.

Your brain is short circuiting and your heartbeat is in your ears. You stand there and look at her dumbfounded, while Sevika shifts from foot to foot, the flowers still in her hand.

“These are for me? You got them for me?” Your words come out in a squeak, a blush creeping up your ears and neck. Sevika nods and chuckles a little bit, handing you the bouquet. You take them with a grateful smile and inspect them closer. They’re wrapped in brown butcher paper, tied with a little bit of twine. The flowers are fresh and smell delightful—but the happy look Sevika gives you is even more so.

You admire them and Sevika can’t help but admire the happy grin on your face. She can’t help the way it makes her heartbeat pick up as you look at the gift. She thinks you look beautiful like this, glowing under the dim lights of the bar, your gorgeous smile lighting up your face. She’s trying her hardest to not lean over the bar and kiss you, but she wants to do this properly. To ‘woo’ you, or whatever Silco said. Not like he ever got any, but whatever.

“I wanted to ask you to dinner too, if that’s alright.” Her voice is a low murmur, she fiddles with the glass in front of her, suddenly too shy to meet your gaze. You choke on your spit a little and try to recover your dignity with a small cough, but she’s quick to catch it. A little snort of a laugh sounds from her, and it’s your turn to blush.

“I think dinner sounds really nice, Sevika. I’d like that.” Your voice is a little hoarse when you answer, you have to clear your throat before you speak again. “But I’m not going anywhere with you when you have blood on your hands.” You reach for her prosthetic hand, the cold metal warming up in your palm.

She watches as you polish it off gently with the rag that’s usually slung over your shoulder. Butterflies erupt in her stomach at your gentle touch, and the way you bite your lip a little in concentration. The corner of her lips curl in another small smile as she studies you silently.

“So… it’s a date?”

“Yeah, Sev. It’s a date.”

—

Authors note: HELLO HI? I did not expect that last one to blow up like it did, thank you so much! I hope everyone enjoys the second part!

Also! My ask box is open and I’m accepting asks and prompts! Until next time 💕

#sevika x reader #arcane imagine #arcane sevika #sevika x you #sevika blurb #sevika #sevika arcane #arcane x reader

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sewersaga · 2 months ago

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YOUR TEETH IN MY NECK- aventurine x foxian! reader

bee's masterlist

9.6k words. sorry (not)

warnings: female bodied reader with she/her pronounce, v v suggestive, mentions of past abuse (aventurine), alcohol usage, sexual cotent BUT NO SMUT, miners dni

Now that you think about it, you can hardly remember the name of that planet.

You remember the rustic hotel bar, the foreign music thrumming in your veins as you savored your drink. The setting was far different from the last planet you’d been on, but the welcome change of scene and the alcohol settled in your veins, leaving you antsy to learn everything the place had to offer. The others were off who knows where, probably sticking their noses in business that didn’t concern them, although, wasn’t it the nature of the Trailblazers to always want to play the hero? And despite being one of them, and treasuring them like your own family, you preferred to get your kicks elsewhere. And who could blame a creature like you for craving a bit of chaos?

That night, chaos sidled up to you at the bar, ornately dressed and smooth as vermouth, gesturing for your drink to be put on his tab.

You don’t remember what you talked about initially, just that the conversation quickly devolved into one of barely veiled innuendo and mutual debauchery, although it was impossible to ignore the way he devoted his entire attention to you when you spoke. He fixed you with his stunning gaze beneath those rose tinted glasses, and you quickly began to wonder why he continued to wear them even inside the dimly lit room. The exchange felt like a masquerade of sorts, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him startlingly beautiful and even more intriguing.

Although, it could be said that those with the most gorgeously deceiving outward appearances are the most dangerous. Surely, he was no different. Everything about him screamed well-dressed danger, but luckily for the both of you, your body seemed to crave it.

After a few more drinks, you decided to take proceedings upstairs to your room to avoid drawing any curious eyes. After all, a pink haired foxian and an ostentatiously outfitted blond would surely not be overlooked in a situation like this, and considering his deeply refined appearance, the man likely had a status to uphold. Namely, one that didn’t involve getting overly familiar with a petite fox eared woman out in public. Although you fit right in with the other foxes on Xianzhou, your species was rather rare on other planets, quickly allowing their residents to recognize you as an outsider. The man that kissed you hungrily against the door to your hotel room was clearly not a local either, despite sharing some common features with the native people.

Now that you think about it, he mentioned his affiliation with the IPC quite early on in the discussion, and it piqued your interest because he decidedly did not reveal his awareness of your affiliation with the Astral Express. Of course, it was only your first encounter with the man, so he had no obligation to reveal anything to you. Hell, you hadn’t even exchanged names. Still, he didn’t seem like the type to not speak carefully, and every word exchanged between the two of you that night seemed to further the gamble you weren’t yet aware you had a hand in.

Until hours later when you had thoroughly reaped the rewards of your shared win, the heartbeat of this stranger insistent beneath your cheek. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret a thing.” You craned your neck up to look at him, the shell of your ear brushing his face. “But you don’t even know my name.”

You felt him hum, amused, his arm lazily draped over your body. “Do you know who I am?”

The pieces had long since arranged themselves in your mind. You’d done your due diligence as an Express crew member to research the top brass of the IPC, and only one person fit this description. “Of course, Aventurine.” Just your luck to end up in bed with one of the Stonehearts, although his position meant nothing in the end. Not unless he wanted something more from you, which they always seemed to do. But the man seemed different somehow from all the others who ended up as blocked numbers in your phone after one breathless night spent together. You decided to chalk it up to the fact that he was by far the most attractive man you’d slept with in a while.

He laughed, a hand trailing ghostlike up your spine and you shivered. “You could’ve said that earlier.” His fingers came to rest between your shoulder blades, and if you were a stupider woman, you’d almost think he was pulling you closer to him. “Now I feel like a fool for not asking your name.” Noticing your sudden fit of chills, he pulled the thin bed sheets to cover more of your bodies, seemingly not realizing your state had nothing to do with the room’s temperature.

“Maybe you don’t know my name, but you know who I am.” You were simply bluffing, but he seemed to take you seriously. His hand drifted back down your body, landing on your hip, the warmth bleeding through to the bone.

“Wouldn’t that defeat the point of being a Nameless?” He asked coyly, and you giggled, ultimately unsurprised, adjusting your position so that you were practically laying on top of him.

“You do know.” He squeezed the ample flesh of your hip beneath his hand as you shifted, and a breathy sound escaped you, one you quickly swallowed upon seeing his smug expression.

It was his turn to shrug as he smoothed the skin with his palm in an insincere apology. “I didn’t. It was a lucky guess.”

You snorted, somewhat incredulous. Still, you’d indeed heard stories of the unbelievable luck of Aventurine, and the various schemes in which he’d lay his life on the line and still come out on top. “Some luck you have.” How bold a person would have to be to bet the ultimate chip, knowing that if they lose, it’s all over. Such recklessness, such utter disregard. What went through his head in those moments? You looked deeper into his radiant eyes, but saw nothing behind them but flagrant amusement and mild enrapturement.

“It’s sort of my thing.” He blinked, offering you a self-assured smile, and you began to wonder how much of that pretty exterior was all for show.

“Sure.” You allowed your body to relax on top of him, unable to stop your own train of thought despite what they say about curiosity and the cat. Perhaps the fox will be the one to be eaten alive this time, although the idea didn’t sound at all unfavorable. Suddenly, struck by an unpleasant notion, you sat up, catching his attention. “Was this all a part of some scheme to wager for our compliance?” You pressed a palm to his bare chest teasingly, and he chuckled lowly, the sound rumbling beneath your hand. “You’ve already gotten everything you’re going to get from me.”

“If I wanted your compliance, I would already have it.” His wandering hand found its way to your chin, tipping your head down to meet his gaze as he looked at you with those dazzling eyes, the kaleidoscopic hue like that of a rare gemstone yet to be named. “And I don’t make wagers that I’ll lose.”

You wondered if he could ever be categorized like a mineral, easily decoded by his most notable traits and studied beneath your curious gaze. They’re usually so easy to read, those lucky souls who get to share your bed. But true to his occupation, this man didn’t get to where he is by being transparent, and his eyes were as showy and incomprehensible as diamonds.

Perhaps he was about to say more, but your little exchange was rudely interrupted by the bothersome ringing of his phone, which sat face down on the bedside table. He sighed, his annoyance palpable, as he allowed you to dismount him, untangling himself from your limbs to reach for the device. Now shamelessly bare and suddenly cold, you rose from the creaky bed to grab your robe from where it lay discarded upon the chair in the corner. Funnily enough, you hadn’t noticed how noisy the bed was earlier, although you were likely far too occupied with other things to pay it any mind. You made a silent apology to the neighbors as you crossed the room, praying your crewmates were still out trying to save the world.

You didn’t bother listening to his conversation as you draped the cheap pink fabric around yourself, securing it with the thin band around the middle before making your way back to the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight as he hung up the call. You weren’t here for more information about the IPC after all, and you’d both gotten what you came for, literally and figuratively. You’d be the last one to care about whatever pressing business he had to attend to at this hour, although you supposed corporations like his own never really slept. Such was the nature of business, and those boring topics were of little interest to you.

It was quite hard to ignore, however, the way he began to dress, recovering his clothes from where the two of you had carelessly discarded them at the bedside. “Already tired of me?” You stood on the bed, making your way over to drape your arms coquettishly around his neck. “And here I thought it would be more fun if we went again, this time using each other’s names.” You were only teasing, evidenced by the little sway of your tail behind you against the sheets, but if he agreed, that worn little robe of yours would be tossed back on the chair in an instant, and you’d be his for the rest of the night.

“It would be, wouldn’t it?” He laughed off your advances, but made no move to evade your loose hold on him. “But business calls, I’m afraid.” You figured this was likely routine for him, slipping out of strangers’ rooms in these ungodly hours to attend to whatever business he had to handle. Coming from any other man, it would almost certainly sound like an excuse, although you never let them stay long enough to brush you off. That wasn’t your style.

And thus, a desire to make him stay was ignited in you, an unfamiliar urge to be different from all the women he’d had before. “In the middle of the night?” Your voice was almost a purr, inching dangerously close to the shell of his ear. You were well versed in your craft, after all, and sure enough, you felt him tense momentarily beneath you, seemingly considering the idea before he relaxed, casting it away.

Unwilling to give up, your hand traveled across his chest, coming to rest in the spade shaped opening that revealed the bare skin of his chest. He sighed, seemingly reluctant to let you go, and you got the sense that this little victory was yours. “This job has its perks, but I’m on call at all hours.” He turned slightly to press a kiss to your jaw, and despite the hollowness of the gesture, you froze momentarily, coming to terms with the fact that you’d actually lost. “Where’s your phone?”

You removed your arms, sitting down on the edge of the bed, effectively defeated, and a little inexplicably shaken. “On the desk.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, picking it up and staring at the home screen for a moment. “Password?” You shot him a glance that hopefully conveyed how stupid the question was. He raised a hand in surrender, passing the device for you to unlock before pulling on his gloves with his now free hands. You handed it back to him, watching as he entered his phone number.

“Here’s my contact.” He pulled on that garish fur coat of his, throwing you a wink as he made for the door. “I look forward to our partnership.”

“Partnership?” You followed behind him, tail swishing with your movements as he lingered in the doorway. “Is that what this is?” How pathetic you probably looked then, a confused little vixen trying to convince a stranger to stay the night with her. This wasn’t how you usually operated, and the way he looked at you then made you realize that he could tell.

“It’s whatever you want it to be.” With that, he leaned down, kissing you chastely on the lips, lingering for a moment longer than a goodbye warranted. He pulled away, smiling almost fondly at your uncharacteristically stunned expression. “I’ll be in touch.” You didn’t have anything else witty to reply with, so you watched him go, suddenly dizzy and weak in the knees despite what you’d let him do to you just hours earlier.

Yes, dangerous was certainly the first word that came to mind as he threw you a wave halfway down the hallway. Perhaps you were unable to categorize him like the rare and beautiful stone he is, but that fact was certain. That, and if he didn’t call you up again, you would find him yourself and demand answers. And you’d never felt that way before. And ever persistent, fate had its own plan for the two of you, and his good luck might rub off on you soon enough.

Sure enough, fortune weaved its fickle design, and your clandestine, if not brief, meetings continued for some time, in various hotel rooms. Of course, there were a few instances over the phone as well, ones you would coyly and unconvincingly deny if brought up by a fellow crew member who heard something they’d rather they didn’t. But you were always known for being quite shameless, and you didn’t mind the reputation. People could think whatever they wanted to think about you, for you were the only one who truly knew who you were. It was always that way, you supposed. No one brought up your past, for it was never relevant to the various smaller disasters your crew handled on a daily basis.

And if anyone noticed your occasional disappearances while docked on a random planet, or the way you’d return smelling of expensive cologne, or even the time March 7th stumbled upon an untouched pristine gold watch in your room, they never said anything. Knowing you, they probably assumed you’d spill the dirty details if prompted. And they wouldn’t be entirely wrong, although these tokens ultimately meant nothing to you, and sometimes made you feel cheap. You couldn’t stop him from buying you things, though, and if you got rid of them, he’d just send you a replacement. You supposed it was a nice problem to have, but you were certainly the wrong person to have it.

And despite your experimentation on the various other planets you stopped on, no one else made you feel that sense of vertigo he provoked when he kissed you. So until you figured out what that was all about, he wasn’t going anywhere. And if his affections towards you were anything to go by, he didn’t want to. Rather risky, indeed, but you’d always loved playing with fire, or so a certain general told you a long, long time ago.

But the past didn’t matter, nor was your future set in stone, and luckily for you, that damned gambler had found his way back into your life. Seeing him among your crewmates in the hotel lobby as you checked in rather than in a dimly lit room was a bit jarring, considering the fact he hadn’t exactly made a favorable impression upon the group. “You know this guy, [Name]?” March had asked then, confusion knitting her brow.

“We’re old friends.” He had responded immediately and naturally, and who were you to deny him? Perhaps your future was indeed preordained, for you realized that rather than wanting nothing to do with him, you wanted to see him more and more.

The day Alisa went missing was one of the worst days of your life, and in a lifetime as long as yours, there were plenty to choose from. You were docked upon the Planet of Festivities, Penacony, a stop that you were particularly excited for because of the pure indulgence that awaited you upon it. When Alisa failed to join the rest of you in the lobby that day, alarm bells quickly rang, for that committed and devoted girl would never neglect her responsibilities, much less leave you all to worry in her absence.

Delicate, white ribboned, and naively beautiful, you couldn’t stop thinking about the possibilities of what Alisa was being subjected to. You couldn’t help but feel like the sweet dream of Penacony allowed for the most depraved minds to thrive undisturbed in the shadows, and an angel like her would be swallowed whole in the dark syrupy quicksand of immorality. A self-proclaimed sinner like yourself would know these things from personal experience, understanding how easily your past can lead you down the path of an unfavorable future.

The relentless worry wrought your mind to no end. The girl went through enough in her life, and the last thing she needed was to be taken by someone who didn’t have her best interests at heart. As much as you liked to tease the girl (really, she was so easy to get a rise out of) you’d grown very fond of her, and her disappearance weighed heavily upon you.

You confessed this to Aventurine at the hotel bar, the interaction a twisted mirror of the night you first met, although this time your unrelated unease was palpable. Your fear for your friend’s life made it impossible to keep the walls up that you typically reserved for your dalliances with strangers, although the man beside you could surely no longer be considered such considering the extent of your relationship. Nevertheless, you felt like the heart you typically kept so shielded was now stitched to your sleeve. He watched you while you spoke of your concerns, his expression unreadable as usual, brilliant eyes glimmering beneath his glasses. “I can help, if you like.”

“You can help?” You were unable to stop yourself from scoffing, for what reason did he have to offer his help? Any loyalty he had toward the Express was due to some sort of yet to be revealed shared interest, and his not so covert extracurriculars with you. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Aventurine, but what sort of command do you have over the Dreamscape that would allow you to find my colleague?”

He raised an eyebrow, adjusting his sunglasses. “Mr. Aventurine? Your friends aren’t around, so you don’t have to address me as such.”

You tilted your head, almost mockingly. The stress had seeped far into your bones, and his inability to speak directly, although alluring in the bedroom, was presently getting on your last nerve. “Why? Does it bother you?” He simply smirked handsomely, and you plucked his glasses from where they rested on the bridge of his nose, momentarily stunning him. “Answer my question, Aventurine.” You placed them on your own face, praying they conceal your true emotions like they did for him.

He raised an eyebrow at you, amused, but making no move to take them back from you. “None.” He shrugged, sipping his drink. “But I have my suspicions, and you know even my guesses are seldom incorrect.” How dare he be so cavalier when your friend’s life is on the line? You didn’t know if his reckless betting was a part of his true nature or a symptom of a far more concerning ailment, but you lacked the patience to investigate any further at the moment being. “How odd for Miss Alisa’s disappearance to coincide with the death of that man’s sister.”

“You’re awfully confident with that assumption, aren’t you, gambler?” You returned his grin with one of your own, although not without a bit of fang and venom. You tipped the sunglasses down to look at him properly, hoping he wouldn’t call your bluff. “And if you help us, what’s in it for you? I seem to recall you saying you never make deals where you’re on the losing end.”

“Your memory doesn’t fail you, sweetheart.” He spoke with a laugh, his voice dripping with something that made you squeeze your thighs together in remembrance of all the prior times you heard that sultry twinge in his tone in a far different setting. You raised an eyebrow at his audacity, ignoring the urge to take him upstairs to vent your frustrations when there are far more pressing matters at hand. “But don’t worry, I know where I’m not wanted. I’ll leave you and your friends to your own investigation, but don’t say I didn’t offer.”

Your ears lowered with mild displeasure, exposing your feelings about his statement despite your eyes being hidden behind his rose tinted shades. “The others won’t be too pleased if they found out you came to me. They don’t fully trust you as is.” The worst part of your foxian nature by far is your body’s propensity towards revealing your true emotions when it’s in your best interest to conceal them. Surely it would make you a horrible gambler, although it’s only one of many reasons why you would never try your hand at a game.

He cocked his head at you, that stupid lazy grin still at home on his face. “And you do?”

You sighed, a sound laced with self-hatred, because the way he was looking at you almost had you reeling. How weak of a woman had you become that all a man need do is look at you to get you worked up? “I didn’t say I did. But I’m far more familiar with you than they are, and I’m telling you to stay out of it.” Perhaps you could attribute your current state to the alcohol you consumed? More research was certainly needed in order to find a way to become immune to this man, for that’s all he is. He’s just a man.

“Fine, fine.” You’ve known so many men before, but this one infuriated you when he waved you off, and despite trying to maintain a calm facade, your ears lowered even further. He fixed you with a mirthful look in response reaching out to run a gloved hand through your hair, his fingers lingering at the base of your ear. You tried to remain outwardly impassive, but your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch as your ear twitched pleasantly in response. “Don’t let this put a damper on your stay. I’m sure she’ll turn up soon enough.” He raised himself from the barstool, heading off to who knows where, and leaving you sufficiently flustered. “Later.”

Your phone went off a few moments later, and of course the asshole had sent you the price of your drinks and a couple ten thousand credits more. Tip the bartender as much as you like, but I sent more than enough for you to have some extra spending money. You stared at the screen in confused distaste for a moment before another message came through. Oh, and keep the glasses. They look better on you. You didn’t need his charity, and you sent him a message letting him know in no uncertain terms, but he only sent you more money. He was impossible to reason with, and that’s why you found yourself resenting him, despite how undeniably alluring you found him.

And despite everything going on, you had half a mind to not text him back right now to meet you in your room in ten, if not just to return those stupid sunglasses. Although in all honesty, that would be the last thing on your mind were you to be alone with him.

But as sure as the prodigal son’s return, Alisa turned up, having been held gently as a dove in the bleeding palms of none other than Sunday himself. Despite her long absence, she showed no signs of physical or mental trauma, and on the contrary, she seemed just as gentle as before, draped in the finest silks Penacony had to offer. Something didn’t make sense, but of course, Aventurine’s suspicions regarding that man were entirely correct, leaving you to regret brushing off his help so readily. Perhaps if you hadn’t been so quick to cast him away, you would’ve found her quicker, although something told you she wouldn’t have been ready to leave. But despite the complicated logistics of the situation, one fact was certain in your mind: anything Sunday had been forced to let go of was left with claw marks from his controlling grip.

And perhaps control was a form of love? You wouldn’t know, but the notion was entirely ridiculous to you, that the thorns that bound Alisa to him could’ve been born of anything else but a desire to possess. Still, when you looked at Alisa, you saw no sign of claw marks, nor thorny brambles. She was just as unmarred as the day she left, and that confused you even further.

Before you left that hedonistic heaven of a planet, however, you found yourself knocking on Aventurine’s door for answers. After all that had happened, you’d learned far more about him than he was willing to tell you himself, and you became even more convinced that all of the smooth-talking and flaunting of wealth was overcompensation for a deep-seated sense of worthlessness. It upset you deeply, because as much as you told yourself you had no reason to care for this man, for this almost stranger who shared your bed, you still worried for him.

What made him different? Was it his dangerous beauty, his immense wealth, or his cavalier nature? Or perhaps, it was the way he touched you like you were worth every single treasure in the world? It didn’t matter, because that meddlesome little feeling in the pit of your chest wasn’t going away any time soon, not until you got the answers you sought.

Aventurine had really gone and done it now. Destroying a cornerstone was sure grounds to be demoted, if not fired completely, but a break wouldn’t necessarily be the worst thing to happen to him right now. Maybe he’d get lucky and they’d do away with him altogether. He could only hope as much.

Penacony was a disaster, sure, but the IPC had gotten what they wanted, and there were certain colleagues who would undeniably be on his side through this flaming pile of shit whether he wanted them to or not. And in all honesty, he hadn’t expected to be around long enough to see the aftermath. So how was he supposed to go about living when he never intended to continue in this twisted labyrinth in the first place? How was he to live in a world that took everyone he ever loved from him? If this was what it meant to be blessed, then he truly was given a shitty hand.

But then, there was you. He hadn’t seen much of you since your friend’s sudden disappearance, and he could tell the event had shaken you to your core. In fact, something told him you were even more torn up about it after her return. Of course, he made sure you were aware he’d be here to comfort you in any way you needed, but was that really what he wanted from you?

That was the tricky thing about being a gambler. You have to always know what you want out of the game, or else your efforts are pointless. And Aventurine could not remember a time that he ever knew what he truly desired. Even when he was younger, his focus was always on survival, on buying and selling, being bought and being sold.

Still, he could hardly consider whatever he exchanged with you pointless. In fact, some of the moments he spent with you were the only times he felt any semblance of meaning in a very long time. You made him feel like a person rather than a trading chip, and perhaps that was what he never knew he wanted.

He’d met up with you once more before the shit really hit the fan, sitting beside you on the couch in your hotel room as you apologized for being so harsh with him when you rejected his help. He wasn’t sure what happened to change your mind, but you seemed earnest, far more than someone like him deserved. He had certainly overstepped in your moment of vulnerability, but he really had wanted to help you for nothing in return, a fact that surprised him just as much as it did you.

Despite your shared proximity, his arm draped lazily around your waist, you hadn’t shared more than a few kisses. The situation felt far more intimate than the typical nature of your relationship, and before he left, you took his face in your palms tentatively. “Be safe, alright?”

The tender exchange was so unbefitting of the both of you that it took him off guard. There were always moments like these between the two of you— touches that lingered for a few moments too long, shared glances amongst a group. These instances threatened to thaw something within him that froze long ago, and it was scary. He had to disregard everything, to forget you, if he wanted to bring the grand mirage that was Penacony to its end by bargaining the most significant chip he had left.

In the Dreamscape, that twisted version of himself told him to die without regrets, and he thought he made his peace. He told himself that you would be better off without him, that you were simply two planets that orbited the same sun for a time, nothing more, nothing less. Of course he knew it was a fib, but in his world, lying was a form of survival, even if the one he was fooling in the end was himself.

Despite his fortunate foresight, however, he hadn’t expected you to seek him out before the Express left Penacony, considering the way things ended. However, as he sat contemplating what the future he never thought he’d see might bring, there was an insistent knock on the door of his room.

“Why do you do it?” You questioned him the moment he opened the door, his guard still somewhat down. He blinked, surprised, as you waltzed past him into the room, visibly agitated.

“Hm?” He quickly resumed that easygoing air of nonchalance that you were used to from him, watching as you approached the Dreampool, your gaze fixed upon its bubbling surface to avoid his gaze.

“Risk your life for the possibility of zero reward.” You hesitantly turned back to face him, the pool’s aquamarine glow lighting you in a way that made you look divine. “That’s not a very wise gamble.”

He chuckled softly, unable to conceal the fondness that crossed his face when he looked at you. “The phrase ‘wise gamble’ itself is an oxymoron, sweetheart. If we were wise, we wouldn’t be gambling.” He approached you, hoping his words would be enough to dispel the concern on your face. “In a game of chance, the one who comes out on top is the one who has the most to lose.” You really did have a horrible poker face, and as much as he would love to bring you along to a game or two, you’d probably accidentally reveal his entire game plan with a few poorly timed twitches of your ear.

And like clockwork, your ears lowered as your expression soured. He envied you for a fleeting moment, the way you couldn’t hide a single thing you felt. “That’s just stupid.” He wondered if he would ever be able to live like that, with his heart on his sleeve. But in his experience, being able to express one’s feelings was a death sentence. Better to swallow them down and gamble with his words, doing everything to hide that imperceptible twitch of his hand that threatened to betray his self doubt.

He shrugged, turning away from you so he wouldn’t have to see that expression of yours. “Maybe to you, but it’s my livelihood.” Any moment longer under your gaze and he’d ruin his game, he who never faltered. You were quiet for a moment and he took the opportunity to move to the couch, casually sitting down and patting the spot beside him for you to join him.

You did not move, remaining in front of the incandescent Dreampool like a goddess. “You have so much more to give. Information, money, power. Why resort to the ultimate sacrifice?”

“Those things are worth nothing to others. But my life?” He paused, and you raised an eyebrow. “Well, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” And despite the statement being disguised as a joke, it was probably the most honest he’d ever been with you.

He watched as you blinked at him in mild surprise, your fangs threatening to reveal themselves along with your mild annoyance. “You’re kidding me, right?” You moved purposefully towards the couch, before suddenly taking the opportunity to straddle his lap rather than sit beside him. “How can you look me in my eyes and tell me your life is worth nothing?” At his non-response, you leaned in so you were face to face, your noses almost touching. Your eyes were wide and watery, and he hesitated again, taken off guard by your sincerity. “Go on. Look at me and say it.”

And surely, it had to be you who was joking. There was no reason for you to care about him. There was no reason for him to hold any sort of value in your life, for if he did, he would have let you use him however you wanted long ago with zero question. He would do that for you, and perhaps he would even do anything for you. But he still could not, for the life of him, figure out why you were looking at him like your world would collapse if he disappeared.

He sighed, responding with a question of his own. “Why are you upset with me?”

You snarled, an expression he’d seen you direct so many times at others, but never him. “Why do you think?” You were visibly angry and hurt all at once, although he feared you hurt more for him than for yourself. And he felt it was so terribly unfair that you felt obligated to waste your time on a former slave with a raging inferiority complex despite having so much to offer yourself.

“I’m sorry, [Name].” He hadn’t expected those words to leave his mouth, and it seemed that you hadn’t either, for your eyes widened, and the tears that threatened to fall earlier began to spill down your cheeks.

Despite your tears, you scoffed bitterly. “Why are you apologizing to me? You’re only hurting yourself.”

He took your face in a gloved hand, wiping a stray tear with his thumb. “You’re the one crying.”

“I’m not—” You pulled back, looking at his finger, moistened with your teardrops. Your hand came up to touch your face, and you laughed bitterly, leaning back upon his thighs. “Maybe you’ll finally listen to me.”

“I want you to listen to me.” He spoke gently, afraid of upsetting you further, but still wanting to say his piece. If you continued to worry about him, you’d be the one ending up hurt, and didn’t he promise not to involve anyone else in his schemes, to keep them all concealed to protect the ones he loved? “What happens to me has nothing to do with you. I promise, everything will work out in the end. It always does.” He tried his best to sound jovial, reassuring, but you were a smart woman, and you weren’t buying this gamble. He sighed, thinking of the people who died because he failed to protect them, the lives he’d taken to prove his own worth. He couldn’t bear to add your name to the list.

“Is it so hard to believe that your life has value to someone?” The notion made him falter completely, and you had effectively called his bluff, beating him at his own game. Honestly, he would be kind of proud if the situation weren’t so grim. “Do you want to die, Aventurine? Do you?” You took it one step further, hitting terribly close to home.

When his future self confronted him in that dream, he essentially asked him the same question. Whenever he had to make a gamble, the thing that meant the most to others, and the least to himself, was his life. How was he supposed to think any differently when he’d always been seen as nothing more than something to buy or sell? He was free of those bloody shackles that enchained him, and he would never again be looked down upon like that. But he still wasn’t certain exactly what he planned to reap from life now that he was free.

So he told that man, the one who looked just like him, that he’d know the answer once he got to where he was going. And since that moment, he had been to death’s door and back, and you were still here waiting for him. You sat on his lap now, weeping for him. Perhaps it was a sign from the universe, an omen pointing him in the right direction. But Aventurine no longer believed in the power of the universe, the same one that had taken everything from him.

So what else was he supposed to do except leave you before he destroyed your life even further? His non-response was the only answer you needed, and your annoyed demeanor quickly deflated into one of sadness and defeat before you climbed off of him, smoothing your clothes. “Goodbye, Aventurine.”

Naturally, things didn’t end there when it came to the happenings on the Planet of Festivities. Everyone with skin in the game had their own agenda, and the Astral Express was not an exception. Luckily for you, though, the crew needed someone to stay back with Alisa as her impromptu jailkeeper to ensure she didn’t leave the Express. No one expected you to volunteer, for you had been the most excited to explore everything the planet had to offer. But you had admittedly less important matters on your mind that you had to think through.

And Alisa seemed to be taking her protective punishment quite well, for she still buzzed around the Express doing her daily tasks, and cooked all of your meals happily. She clearly sensed something was wrong, for you were unknowingly horrible at concealing your own sadness, and doted on you as a result, although you couldn’t help but think it should be the other way around. And despite her nature causing her to behave pleasantly, Alisa still wore her sadness upon her back like her own personal cross to bear.

Despite being such a typically talkative woman, you and Alisa often sat in silence those days while your crewmates wrapped up affairs on Penacony, curled into each other on the couch while she gently stroked your ears. It was the nature of a Foxian to enjoy a pet or two, and you lavished her attention, but not before explicitly warning her not to tell a soul.

And day after day, the jailbird still sang sadly, peering out between the bars of her cage with a melancholy look upon her delicate face. The girl was always prone to lovesick contemplation, but for you, this was all so very new, and every sensation was unfamiliar and raw. You found yourself deeply thankful, however, that you weren’t alone, and Alisa’s penchant toward pondering loves of the past and present began to wear off on you.

What made this situation different? You’d ended affairs before, both concisely and messily, but never had you cried over someone who you crossed paths with, and never had you walked alongside someone for so long that you’d grown to care for them. Never before had you tried to nullify someone else’s self destructive tendencies, because never before had you stuck around long enough to learn who they truly were. And despite what his actions had told you, there was still so much more you didn’t know about that man. As you sat beside Alisa, tears silently streaming down your face, you were embarrassed.

Every time you allowed your own heart to cloud your judgment, it led to your downfall. You forsook your own family back on the Yaoqing, and for what? A man who wouldn’t even look your way after he got what he wanted? And perhaps Aventurine had received what he desired from you, and was now willing to throw you to the wolves in favor of clawing his way down to hell, and that had nothing to do with you. Time heals all wounds, and soon enough, you’ll have forgotten all about him, and he will have ruined himself by his own hand. And if the notion made you sob a little harder in Alisa’s arms, it was entirely unrelated to him, nothing but a byproduct of your own stupidity.

As you let her brush through your tail with an antique jade comb, the soothing motion coaxing your deepest anxieties out into the open, a new fear came to mind. Before, maybe you were alone, but you never once felt lonely. But now that you were no longer in contact with the one person you thought you could connect with on a deeper level, you suddenly worried that you would never be able to feel that way about someone else. Once the words left your mouth, you regretted them, for Alisa’s ministrations with the comb halted. “Don’t speak as if he’s dead.”

You scoffed. “He wants to be.” You spoke bitterly through the thickness of tears lingering in your throat. Alisa hummed before continuing to brush your fur.

“He’ll be back.” She reached down to pat your head, and your ears twitched in a combination of annoyance and resigned enjoyment. You turned back to face her, your eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.

“What makes you so sure?” She offered you a small, knowing smile, the expression right at home on her face. You envied her ability to be so hopeful on your behalf despite being in a state of bereavement herself. Despite your own jealousy, it endeared her to you further.

“I know a lot about these things. He won’t stay away from you for long.” She ran a lithe hand through your now smoothed tail, passing you the jade comb. “He can’t.” You wished you agreed with her, but a small part of you prayed she was right, and that much like the quickly escalating situation on Penacony, things between you and Aventurine wouldn’t end here.

And after tensions boiled over, and the rest of the crew had sufficiently resolved the volatile situation, Alisa’s predictions came to fruition. The first thought that crossed your mind just three days later, when you opened the door to your cabin and saw Aventurine standing there, examining the antique fox statue on your nightstand, was that the Astral Express really does welcome all passengers. “What, do you have a work assignment on the Express or something?” Trespassing was certainly frowned upon, although the sight of him amongst the trinkets of your room wasn’t necessarily unpleasant. All of that to say that someone had to have invited him aboard, and it certainly wasn’t you. “Gonna gamble us out of every last credit we’ve got?” There was a hint of mirth to your tone, but it did little to mask the unease that you felt in the moment.

He’d told you that day through his actions that he wanted nothing to do with you, content to throw himself down a spiral of self-hatred and despair. If that was what he desired, it was fine by you, for you refused to stand by while he destroyed himself even further. And when you found yourself sobbing into your pillows for days on end afterwards, you told yourself you were only angry with yourself for feeling this way, not the fact that you mourned his absence or anything like that.

The man standing in your room like a ghost from the past turned to face you, his eyes murky as if snapping out of some sort of trance. He threw you a lazy smile, clearly unable to read your demeanor. “Something like that.”

You sighed as the door shut behind you, making no move to venture any further into the room lest this be another dream. “Why are you here?”

He shrugged, laughing almost nervously as he tentatively approached you. “Well, the IPC did want my head on a platter for a minute there, but everything’s resolved now.” He looked down at his shoes then, biting his lip momentarily before meeting your gaze again with those brilliant eyes of his. “I figured it was high time for me to make some personal calls.”

And how difficult it was for you not to crumble before him right then and there.

You steeled yourself, although you were subconsciously inching closer to him when you spoke. “And this is the first stop on your victory tour?” He swallowed, looking down at you as you stopped just centimeters away from him, so much so that you could smell his expensive cologne from where you stood. “Congratulations, you got your job back, what does that have to do with me?”

He smiled once more at you, although the expression was absent of the usual venomous honey that typically accompanied it. “Those friends of yours called me. They were really worried about you, you know.” He gently placed a gloved hand on the side of your face, and like clockwork, your body leaned into his touch. “I owe you quite a few explanations.” He kept it there for a moment, feeling the heat of your cheek against his clothed palm, before bringing it back to his side hesitantly.

Effectively placated, you blinked up at him. “You don’t owe me anything, Aventurine.” Your tone was missing its usual bite. How many times had you imagined this moment before cursing yourself for being so pathetically hopeful? Whatever happened between you was brief, ending because you cared far too much for a man who couldn’t care for himself. But maybe, just maybe, something within him had changed, with you as the catalyst.

“On the contrary, I think I owe you everything.” He responded sincerely, and his tone was unlike anything you’d ever heard from him before, except in those quiet moments the two of you shared when the rest of the universe was fast asleep. Those multi-colored eyes glimmered at you like a kaleidoscope, and the feel of his hand against your face lingered upon your skin like a phantom sensation.

“What are you saying?” Despite your nature, you had come to accept that you were weak before him, even though he had never asked you to be. And like himself, something beneath your exterior, far behind all the walls you put up to protect your own heart, made itself known whenever he touched you, and stirred a fire in your chest that you thought died out long ago. You decided to give him a chance, taking his hand gently in your own and leading him to sit beside you on the window seat. Once you were comfortable, he didn’t let go of it, instead resolving to intertwine his fingers with yours.

“I’ve thought a lot about our conversation that day. It seems there’s a lot more I need to come to terms with about myself.” He paused then, and you sensed that he was preparing to give you everything he had to offer, this particular gamble oddly innocent. “I’m sorry that I hurt you by involving you with me. It wasn’t my intention.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his apology, but he squeezed your hand just as you were opening your mouth to object. “But I want you by my side. Every day.” His gaze bored into your own, intense and earnest, as his characteristic smile dissolved, emphasizing his sincerity. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You were silent for a moment, and he took the time to bring your hand to his lips, brushing them against the soft skin. You let out a breathy laugh, and he met your eye, smiling expectantly. “You’ve really got to stop apologizing to me for things that aren’t your fault”

“And your answer?” He lowered your hand, decidedly not unlacing his fingers from yours. He laughed in a self-deprecating manner. “You can say no. I won’t be offended.”

“Yes.” You answered with zero hesitation, for it was the response that resonated in your soul. He could’ve asked you anything in that moment, and you would’ve responded affirmatively because you knew you were too far gone. There was still a long way to go in terms of communication between the two of you, but you were willing to try for him, if only to preserve the way you felt when he looked at you like that. “I’ll stay by your side, if you stay by mine.”

“Of course.” He pulled you to him until you sat atop his lap. “I’d never dream of leaving you again.” A hand ran through your hair before he leaned in, his lips meeting yours sweetly. Despite how many times you’d been in this situation before, your entire body felt like jelly as you kissed in front of that window, his hands finding purchase at the base of your hips as yours wound around his neck.

You pulled away reluctantly, looking him in his eyes. “Do you promise?”

He leaned in, stealing one more kiss from you, ignoring your protests at his delayed response. “I promise.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “And when have I ever broken a promise?”

You giggled, a bit delirious from the way he kissed you. “You haven’t exactly made me many promises.”

“Then let this be the first. I’m not going anywhere.” He grabbed at the fat of your backside much like he did the night you first met, although this time there was a far more possessive undertone behind the action. “And neither are you.”

“I wouldn’t plan on it.” And perhaps you had a possessive nature of your own, for when you kissed him again, you had every intention of marking him as your own, of sinking your fangs into him until the only name he remembered was your own. Or, perhaps, you were getting a bit ahead of yourself, but the way he was moving beneath you told you he wasn’t at all opposed to the idea. “Shall we seal the deal?”

He nipped at your bottom lip as he reluctantly parted from you, that alluring grin of his cementing your intentions. “What did you have in mind?”

You threw him a teasing smile of your own, although the way your tail swayed behind you in anticipation betrayed your want far more than your words did. “I have some time to spare if you do.”

“You have my complete attention, darling,” He spoke smoothly, his honeyed words ghosting your lips. “What do you want from me?” You giggled. Was he really going to make you say it? Well, no matter. You told him in no uncertain terms exactly what you wanted him to do to you, and he did it, because he would happily do anything and everything for you. And afterwards, when his deft hand pressed against your spine amidst the formerly pristine sheets of your bed, you knew he wanted you even closer to him than was humanly possible, because you wanted the exact same thing.

And wasn’t that new? Knowing just what the other wanted, and doing everything to make that happen? Perhaps that was what love was all about. You weren’t sure, you thought it might be something like the way his fingers laced through yours as you pressed your forehead to his, your tail moving insistently and pleasantly against your bedsheets.

Aventurine could not decipher the looks on your crewmates faces as you sat beside him on the couch in the parlor car, fingers interlaced with his, as if you hadn’t just told them that he would be accompanying them to the next stop on their voyage. “So? Aren’t you guys going to say anything?” You smiled at them, although not without a hint of fang, as if daring them to object to your decision.

“Of course.” Himeko spoke, that blessed, caring woman. “The more the merrier.” Her response and the warm smile that came along with it seemed to placate you sufficiently, although Aventurine still felt horribly out of place. But he got the feeling that wherever you were, he’d fit in just fine. The others responded with varying degrees of welcoming affirmation, although it was very hard to ignore the way Stelle and Alisa were elbowing each other and giggling to themselves, and even harder to ignore the threatening looks you were sending them. He turned to you, smiling fondly, and as you looked back, squeezing his hand, he realized this was the most at home he’d felt in a long, long while.

“Well, where to, then?” You diverted your attention back to Himeko and the rest of the crew, subconsciously leaning further into Aventurine’s side.

The group all shared a look, and you raised an eyebrow as if to ask what the hell is that supposed to mean? Finally, Stelle, ever the menace, opened her mouth. “Well, while the two of you were occupied, General Jing Yuan invited us back to the Luofu to attend the Wardance Ceremony.”

A sharp, sudden laugh escaped you, presently ignoring Stelle’s pointed comment about what the two of you had been up to. You didn’t seem to care what the rest of the crew knew, so neither did Aventurine. It was a rather freeing mindset to have. “The Wardance Ceremony? Been a long time since I’ve heard about that. I suppose I’ve been traveling with you all for too long.”

Himeko chuckled good naturedly. “You don’t seem to have any complaints about that.”

You offered her that pretty grin of yours in return, fangs peeking out. “Oh, believe me, I have none. Are we going?” There was that shared look again, before March 7th nodded. “No way. You guys must be itching for a fight then. It’s mostly martial arts contests.”

Alisa smiled, coming to sit down beside you. The girl seemed to have recovered well from her stint with the Family, and Aventurine found it nice to see her up and about. So much so that he even let go of your hand to allow her to take it, although you settled further into him to compensate. “Have you ever competed?”

You snorted. “Nah. Do you think I’d stand a chance there? It should be fun though.” You shrugged, your tail beating with anticipation against his leg, and he exhaled mirthfully at the fact that you didn’t seem to notice.

“Mister Aventurine?” Alisa craned her neck to see around you, making eye contact with him. He hesitated, not expecting to be addressed so directly by any member of the crew. In fact, he’d been ready to be treated as just an extension of you for a while, something he really wouldn’t have minded much at all.

As such, he shrugged in a way he hoped came off as nonchalant. “Well, seeing as I’m the newest guest, my opinion shouldn’t mean too much in the grand scheme of things.” You scoffed, elbowing him. Right. Whenever he would say something that edged too close to the line of self deprecation, you would let him know in no uncertain terms.

“As long as you’re traveling with us, your input is important.” You turned back to him, taking both of his hands this time. You shot a pointed look at the rest of the group, a warning to comply hidden in your tone. “Right?”

The crew murmured in agreement, although they didn’t seem to harbor enough ill will towards him to ostracize him from the rest of the gang. He sighed inconspicuously, the sound edged with relief. “Well, it certainly sounds entertaining. I’m down.”

Stelle grinned deviously, and he prepared himself for the worst. “Good. Because we already decided to go while you guys were holed up in your room.” A slightly less direct reference to the hours he’d spent with you prior to making the decision to come along. He’ll take it.

You groaned, reaching out to swat at her legs, which she quickly avoided as if used to it. Knowing you, she probably was. “What was the point of asking us then?”

“Inclusivity.” She snickered, and Alisa jumped up off the couch to join her lest she too be within your radius of swatting.

Himeko smiled fondly at your antics, and Aventurine decided he could get used to being a part of this family, albeit an extended member. “Let’s set off then.” He’d made many gambles in his life, but staying by your side was by far the easiest and most advantageous decision he’d ever make.

#beeswax #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr aventurine

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izvmimi · 1 year ago

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"you either tell her or you leave her."

as usual shoto is painfully blunt, enough that katsuki considers throwing his glass of bourbon at some point, either at him, or at the wall behind him to prove a point, but instead he picks it up and lets the ball of ice rock gently in his aged bourbon. katsuki glances at izuku whose face is contemplative, idly fidgeting with the wedding band on his ring finger. he has nothing to add yet. katsuki sighs and throws the rest of the alcohol back, hoping the burn as it hits his throat will draw some clarity out of him. it doesn't and he sighs, uncrossing his legs, before leaning in and nearly slamming the glass on the wooden coffee table.

the deep scarlet and brown tones of the high brass offices have never reminded katsuki so much of bloodshed until this very moment. last night wasn't that much more violent that what has been typical in his years in the mafia, but for the first time, he'd been fighting with the explicit aim to protect, not to control or conquer, and he'd been far more concerned than usual whose blood was being shed.

katsuki lets his head fall into his hands and rubs his face. izuku chimes in finally, his hands now steady.

"just tell her," izuku offers. his voice is soft, a reminder that he doesn't really belong in the underworld except the times in which he is the most cruel of them all. "if she loves you, she'll stay by your side anyway."

"plus she's probably already pieced it together," shoto adds. the glass before him is untouched and sweats and shoto downs it at once as though he's just remembered he's been offered a drink.

katsuki conjures up your terrified expression in his mind's eye then bites his lip. is he willing to risk bringing you into this world with him? constantly worry about your whereabouts and whether or not he can protect you if you're ever used like a pawn like izuku does? or will he let you go, pining from afar without accepting his feelings like shoto?

he frowns.

he can protect you.

and he doesn't want to pine.

"fine." katsuki says out loud, more to himself than the other two.

izuku smiles but katsuki frowns.

"why are you smiling? get the fuck out, i have calls to make."

which only makes him smile wider.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #daydreams: bnha #mimi’s notes

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eatmangoesnekkid · 4 months ago

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No matter what I always choose beauty. What comes with choosing beauty is more intention and alignment. Intentional living.

Thinking about how there is nothing more beautiful than cooking with a lover while dancing and kissing and sipping on a cocktail. If you are like me and don’t really drink, you sip when the mood feels rightfully beautiful.

No matter what I always choose beauty. Like Saidiya Hartman wrote, "beauty is not a luxury."

Beauty is nutrition.But beauty requires something more from us in exchange for its nutrients.

Beauty is not something this world gives to us and there is no guarantee that we will be ready, available, or present enough to really receive it.

Beauty is something that we have to be willing to claim, to pause and take notice of, to shut the fuck up and listen to, or to put in time and effort into feeling.

A beautiful sunset will just pass on by if you don't look up from your phone at the right time.

The effort it takes to put on a nice-fitting dress while home for no reason at all other than it feels beautiful on your skin or to take time to plate your home-cooked food in an artful way is something only you can give to yourself.

A beautiful bouquet of wildflowers brought home will be meaningless if you don't take time to contemplate and notice them.

I always choose beauty in the mess, in the ugly, in art, in meal prep, in lighting a candle, and in the shapes my female body makes.

I am on a partial road trip and packed two small ghee lamps. Even with a packed suitcase, I managed to squeeze in two brass ghee lamps, these little works of art and spirit. Ghee lighting symbolizes purity, peace and love and I light one every night in the kitchen and bedroom in lieu of artificial light and witness how the shadows dance prettily along the walls as I deepen into my night stretch.

I always choose beauty, glass jars tinctures I make by hand and take with me to spa. I could simply pack them into plastic bottles but then chemicals from the plastic would leech into the concoctions and change the molecular structure of the contents. I could just go to the store and buy whatever is available in plastic but it would lack quality. It would be easier to put the concoctions in plastic or just buy something similar instead of making them. I wouldn’t have to be extra careful to not break any bottles or have to take so much time getting ready for the spa, but I choose beauty.

Beauty is less about possession of it as conditioned and more about contemplation, awe, and wonder, witnessing natural light shine prisms through large bay windows.

One personal secret of the universe about me is that I quietly wear pink fuzzy kitten mule house shoes with a 1/2 inch maximum heel height indoors because they feel beautiful and sexy and work cutely with the shape of my body.

Beauty gives us feeling. It gives us height and it gifts us fire. It can turn us on and make us come fully alive.

Beauty can also set us free.

Because when we choose beauty, beauty naturally chooses us back.

--India Ame'ye, Author, From The Melody of Love, Opening Pages to Natural Beauty Chapter (unedited)

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wannab-urs · 1 year ago

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Title: Crawling Back to You

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: After some particularly awful shit goes down, Javi distances himself from you. But he always comes crawling back.

Tags: Angst, smut, more angst, reference to s2e3 events w Carillo, Javi sleeps with Gabriela (that’s the one from S2E3 y’all), sad!Javi, self hating!Javi, references to blood, wounds, rot, etc, all metaphorical, drinking/alcohol, as always: excessive cursing, me trying to speak spanish (translations provided), arguing, manhandling, dry humping, fingering, oral f receiving, face riding but while lying down, hair pulling, actual riding, Javi very briefly picks you up, that one position from s1e2, unprotected PiV, creampie, Javi crying, Javi yelling, reader yelling, did I mention angst? WC: 2130

A/N: I'm sorry? And thanks to the HBH for beta reading <3

Series Masterlist | Javier Peña Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

Crawling back to you Ever thought of calling when you've had a few? 'Cause I always do

Javi has avoided you for two weeks now. He got himself involved in some truly fucked up shit with Carillo and couldn’t bear to face you after that. He couldn’t let you see him like that – completely ashamed of himself, broken. He went to Gabriela instead. He knew she wouldn’t ask too many questions, that she would let him take out his anger and helplessness and shame on her.

When he got home that night he still almost called you, just to hear your voice. You calm something inside him, something dark and violent. But it feels like a sin to expose you to it in the first place. He’s terrified of letting you in. Sure, he’s afraid of getting hurt. Afraid of giving his heart to you and possibly watching you crush it in your hands. But what he’s really scared of is letting you get close enough to see the blood in his teeth, to smell the rot in his chest. Afraid his darkness will infect you, ruin the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on. He is a bad man and you are so so good. You deserve better than him.

And yet he can’t truly let you go. Just another reason he doesn’t deserve you. He’s selfish enough to keep going back to you, to keep knocking on your apartment door and burying his pain in your body, only to tuck tail and run the second you push him for more. Most selfish of all is how much he wants more with you. Wants to come home to you every day. To cook dinner with you, to share a bed with you, to share his life with you. He wants everything you want and more and he’s terrified and horrified at the prospect.

You haven’t called him. Maybe you finally listened to him. Finally accepted he’s not what you want or need. Do you think about calling him? Maybe after a bottle of wine, listening to your maudlin records and relaxing on your couch. Do you drink yourself into a stupor before you can make that mistake like he does?

He dreams about you, about your body wrapped tightly around his, your nails dragging down his back so sharply it snaps him awake. He finds his whiskey glass turned over and spilled on his couch. His back aches from falling asleep sitting up. He eyes the phone.

Fuck calling.

Javi stares at the brass numbers on your apartment door. What the fuck is he doing here? He just can’t leave well enough alone. He pounds on the door until you answer.

“No.” You slam the door closed.

He bangs on the door again, fist pausing mid-air as the door swings open.

“You can’t just come crawling back to me when you get tired of your whores, Javi.” You look beautiful. Standing in your doorway in one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties. Righteous anger puts a fire in your eyes, gives a hard set to your jaw.

“No es así y tú lo sabes.” (It’s not like that and you know it).” Javi steps closer to you, you don’t step back. “Me haces falta. (I miss you). Let me in.”

“Oh you fucking miss me? It’s been two weeks. Y no llamaste. (and you didn’t call).” You didn’t call him either, but that’s not the point. You didn’t show up at his apartment.

“Sé, lo siento. (I know, I’m sorry).”

“No. No lo eres. Déjame en paz.” (No. You’re not. Leave me alone.).

“No puedo. You know I can’t.” Javi looks defeated, run down. You know he needs you. Despite the advice of everyone you know and your own better judgment, you step aside and let him in. “Gracias, cariño.” And he sounds so relieved, you almost feel bad for keeping him out, for not calling him. Almost.

He closes the door behind him and you stalk off to the kitchen, still not quite ready to face him. You pour yourself a glass of whiskey and shoot it, wincing a little at the burn, before grabbing another glass and pouring one for each of you. You set both on the coffee table and sit on the couch, folding your legs beneath you.

“Why are you here, Javi?” He’d asked himself as much.

He picks his glass up off the table and sits on the couch next to you. You watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “I need you. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“Start with why you disappeared.”

“Classified.”

“Bullshit.”

Javi sets his glass down and manhandles you into his lap. He crashes his mouth into yours and at first you don’t even respond to his touch, but it doesn’t take long to fall into him. You can’t deny that you’ve been miserable without him. Craving his touch, missing him so much it hurts. He’s like an itch you can never scratch enough to satisfy. A festering wound that won’t ever heal. So you may as well pick at the scab.

Javi pulls your crotch flush with his. He’s already hard against you. You bury your hands in his too-long hair where it curls at the nape and lose yourself in him. You grind down on him and he thrusts up against you, the denim of his jeans and hard line of his cock creating delicious friction even through your panties.

He breaks the kiss, dragging his lips up your jaw, and whispers in your ear, “Can you come for me like this?” You don’t answer him, simply grind down on him harder, faster, nearly rubbing your thighs raw on his jeans. He peels his t-shirt off your body, throws it behind the couch, and immediately sucks a nipple between his plush lips. He bites down and it sends a jolt straight through your core.

“Fuck, Javi. More, baby. More,” you whine. He grabs your hips and drags you along his clothed length hard and fast. You feel your core tighten around nothing, and a keening moan falls from your lips as you come.

You don’t even have time to catch your breath before he’s thrown you onto the couch. He drags your ruined underwear down your legs, tossing them over his shoulder, and buries his face between your thighs. He sucks your clit into his mouth and pushes two fingers inside you, pumping slowly and rolling your clit gently between his teeth.

You arch up into him, and instead of pinning you down like he often does, he lets you grind your pussy on his face. The hard ridge of his nose, the rough drag of his mustache, the plush softness of his lips, so many different sensations hitting you as his fingers plunge into your cunt, curling into your g-spot over and over. It’s completely and utterly overwhelming. You fist his hair and hold him tight to you as you ride his face, and he moans into your cunt. He fucking loves it when you let go like this, unabashed moans filling the room, probably filling the whole apartment complex.

You fall apart again, like this, hips stuttering to a stop as you squeeze his fingers so hard it almost hurts. Javi peers up at your blissed out face, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, takes in just how beautiful you are. He drags his tongue through your slick one more time before hovering over you and licking into your mouth.

You suck your own slick off his tongue, licking into his mouth as you feel him shove his jeans down enough to free his cock. He pulls back, sits on the couch and drags you into his lap. You straddle him and he helps you line up before grabbing your hips and pulling you down on him.

You collapse forward, the feeling of him inside you is like being split apart and it would probably hurt if you weren’t so wet. He grabs your hair and pulls backward until your back is arched. “Montarme, cariño.” (Ride me, baby). You start moving your hips, slowly picking up in speed until you’re bouncing on his cock so hard and fast you can barely catch your breath.

He hitches your thighs around his waist and wraps his arm around your back, dropping you on the couch. He shoves his jeans down, stepping out of them, and drops one knee to the couch. He pulls you into his lap, wrapping your legs around his hips. You cling to his shoulders with your left arm and drop your other one behind you for leverage, rolling your hips into his. He meets you with his own thrusts, holding your body to his and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

He’s so close, you’re so tangled up in each other, he’s so fucking deep inside you, barely even pulling out before rolling back up into you. You fall back onto the couch and he follows, still holding you in his arms as he fucks you. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, rolling over your body and giving you chills as your cunt flutters around his cock.

He comes with you, fully collapsing down onto you. You should feel crushed under his weight, but it’s comforting. He holds you so tightly it’s like he’s afraid to let go of you. Afraid that when this moment is over you’ll kick him out and he’ll be alone again. Afraid this is the last time he’ll ever get to touch you.

You pet his hair gently, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. It’s late. You’re so fucked out you feel high and maybe the whiskey is loosening your tongue a little.

“I don’t understand, Javi. If it feels like this, why won’t you love me? What more could you want from me? What am I missing that you need?” This is going to ruin everything.

Javi pushes up on his elbows to look you in the eye. “Cariño. It’s not you–”

“I swear to God, Javi, if you use that line on me I will burn your apartment down with you in it.”

“You don’t understand. You won’t understand. I’m not good. I’m only going to get you hurt or killed.”

“You already are hurting me, Javi,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him back down to you.

He’s silent for a long time before he half whispers into your shoulder, “I’m just so afraid.” His voice breaks and you feel a tear land on your skin. You stroke his hair, drag your fingers along his heated skin.

“I know you, Javi. I know who you are and I don’t care. I think about you all the time. All the fucking time. I can’t stop thinking about you no matter how hard I fucking try. It’s torture.”

Javi shoves himself away from you, standing and grabbing his jeans off the floor.“That’s my fucking point!” You flinch at his volume. He pulls his jeans on, grabs his boots and crams his feet into them, already heading to the door. He turns around. “I am only ever going to hurt you. I am a bad fucking person. I hurt people on purpose and you are not immune from that just because I care about you or because I love you.”

You stand and try to take his face in your hands but he grabs your arms and holds you away from him. “I’d let you crack open my chest, rib by rib, while I watched if it meant I could have you. If it meant you’d be mine. Stop running away from me! I’m begging you!” You’re sobbing, yelling, pleading with him to just listen.

Javi looks at you, brow furrowed, big brown eyes shiny and bloodshot with tears. He lets go of you and steps away slowly, putting distance between the two of you. His mouth opens as if he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. He drops his head and closes his eyes, takes a shaky breath, and walks out the door.

He knows he will come crawling back to you, tomorrow or a week from now, he can’t ever stay away. But maybe this time the wound will be too raw. He will have hurt you too much, and you will shut him out. He fucking hates it, hates the thought of being without you, hates the way it feels like he’s clawing out his own organs hurting you like this. But this hurt is so much less than what he would do to you given enough time. This wound will scab over, form an angry scar, he will have left his mark on you. But you will heal.

dividers by @saradika

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sailorstar9 · 9 days ago

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Cheating Ex Regrets After F/N Had Married Another Man Warning: Anti-Lyney, Anti-Lumine, Angst, Modern AU Trigger warning: Cheating

When the woman Lyney was supporting caused a scene in front of F/N, she broke up with him.

Lyney looked cold and indifferent, as if he had everything under control. “Suit yourself; you really think highly of yourself.”

But he didn't expect that F/N would move out of Fontaine that same night.

A year later, the big shot in the wealthy circle got married and sent an invitation to Lyney. He watched in the audience as F/N wore a wedding dress and completely fell apart.

Pushing open the door to the private room at White Manor, the room was indeed lively.

Five girls were sprawling all over, kneeling and sitting around Lyney and his friends in the centre. In the dim light, the beam of light fell on Lyney's fair face. His lavender fake glasses reflected the light and F/N heard someone speak.

“Who's that college girl who's been clinging onto you lately? Aren't you afraid F/N would find out and get angry?”

The crisp clinking of glasses echoed; the person sounded noble yet cold. “Just a kid; getting angry about this is really petty. But Lumine, she's really pretty.”

The men's muted humming resounded.

The lewd words rose in waves of delicate sounds and F/N closed the door. She never meddled in Lyney's private life. It used to be disdain, but now, it's simply not her concern. He had countless women before, but this Lumine seemed to be different.

The cheongsam was intricately woven with golden thread, representing endless luxury and wealth.

F/N reached out and touched the silk fabric of the red cheongsam and tried on the dress.

The maid stood by, bending down and advising F/N, “Lyney cares about you; look at this cheongsam, it was custom-made for a year.”

F/N slipped on the cheongsam and frowned; the cheongsam was too big, the waist was loose and the cheongsam is short. At that moment. F/N knew, the cheongsam was not meant for her.

“Did he not come back to celebrate our anniversary?” F/N asked the maid.

The maid looked hesitant and and answered after a long pause, “He said go to the White Manor and find him.”

F/N returned to the White Manor a few hours later; the young girls who had been serving inside the private room were gone and Lyney's friends had brought their female companions.

The scent of incense floating in the room with an elusive presence and F/N saw Lyney's lips glistening with moisture. Sweat had soaked through his white shirt as his fingers traced down the neck of the girl; only after a long kiss did they stop.

Someone whistled. “Lyney brought the great adventure to White Manor; it's the first time he kissed in public.. even for F/N, he only did it after drinking.”

Before F/N could even step inside, Lumine shyly ran out. In her hand was a bag from F/N's favorite brand, but one F/N could no longer afford.

Lyney leaned against the sofa, looking interestedly at the girl who had just rushed to him. The two of them were entangled, competing in beauty. She wasn't any uglier than Lumine who had just left.

“F/N, right?” Lumine gave F/N a smug grin and took out a lipstick to touch up her lipstick. “I advise to look out for yourself. Don't upset Lyney. They say you're as beautiful as a goddess but I see nothing special. Now you're just a mistress. Don't you know that being dignified is a sign of a legitimate wife? You should relax a bit. How could you hold on to a man like this? Guess how many times he wanted me last night? It's truly pitiful to be without a man's nourishment. Do you think threatening him will work?” she giggled, walking off. “If not, you can try.”

F/N's heart hardened and she turned her heels and left.

Outside, the winter rain mixed with snowflakes fell chillingly on F/N, but she made no attempt to button up the brass buttons.

At that moment, a black umbrella was tilted over F/N's head and a heavy woollen coat was draped over her shoulders.

F/N looked up and met the person's eyes; she knew this person, Zhongli. True to his name; handsome, refined and indescribably elegant. He had come from Liyue, someone nobody dared to cross. Zhongli's family was also wealthy, showing just a hint would sustain F/N for several lifetimes.

“Hot cocoa.” Zhongli handed F/N an insulated cup. “To warm up. It's not time yet. F/N, if you need money, I happen to be able to provide for you. Want me to be your ATM? Give it a chance.”

F/N flung the steaming cup of hot cocoa, “You give money and I go with you? Do you think I'm out to sell myself?”

“I'm sorry.” Zhongli apologized. “I didn't tell you everything; I'm marrying you.”

F/N was never one to be obedient. Growing up, everything desirable in the world was at her fingertips. She was spoiled recklessly and was able to get what she wanted. She had even captured Lyney, a high—profile figure who was the object of affection for many elite women in Fontaine. But that wasn't love. With F/N family's power dwindling due to her brother's poo business decisions, F/N remembered her mother's dying words, she had suppressed her temper and followed Lyney. She thought he would give her a home out of past affection, only to find out that he kept her around to keep up appearances. And after being submissive for too long, F/N's rebellious nature unexpectedly burst forth.

Zhongli's expression remain gentle despite F/N's temper tantrum, his eyes held a hint of longing.

“How much did you spend to marry me?” F/N asked as Zhongli was driving them back to one of his villas.

In response, a heavy gold card was placed in F/N's palm. “This is a gift. My other assets are all in another villa. Go back and sign.”

“If you dare marry me, what do I have to fear?” F/N challenged.

In Zhongli's villa...

F/N took the initiative and half pushed Zhongli into what she assumed to be a guest room.

Zhongli gave in, his gentle kisses were fleeting as if F/N was the more precious treasure in the world. With a single move of his tall figure, he effortlessly held her in his hands and his fingertips traced delicately over her body.

Just then, at the crucial moment, Zhongli put some distance between them. He covered F/N with the blanket on the bed and was turned to leave. “We'll go get the certificate tomorrow.”

Just then, Zhongli's phone rang and he took the call.

A soft moan could be heard, unintentionally eavesdropping on the conversation. The person on the other end of the phone stood frozen in place, taking a moment to regain their senses. The voice was familiar yet unfamiliar; soft and sweet with a hint of rose-like boldness.

In Lyney's villa...

“F/N...” Lyney knew the sultry voiced belonged to F/N, the woman he had shared a bed with for years but had never crossed the final line. He looked at Lumine sleeping by his side, her young and delicate face showing a hint of innocence. But she wasn't as beautiful as F/N. Recalling his conversation with her in the morning, he felt he had been too harsh. Just this once, he would go and pacify her. After all, she was now almost entirely dependent on him after her family's downfall.

In Zhongli's villa...

The next morning, F/N saw Zhongli open the entire wardrobe wall, revealing countless custom-made clothing and accessories, with the largest section filled with various traditional Chinese dresses and qipaos. Zhongli then picked the most exquisite red qipao for F/N to change into.

“Do we need to find a makeup artist?” Zhongli asked. “This doesn't suit you.”

Later...

Upon reaching their destination, F/N realize Zhongli hadn't driven them to the marriage registration office, but to an ancient church.

Zhongli held F/N's hand and led her into the temple. Kneeling in front of the church crossing, the ring in his hand gleaming, “I made a vow to God, but it's F/N who can make it come true. Will you marry me?”

Letting him put the ring on her finger, F/N sniffled and asked, “We've agreed to get married, so why all this trouble?”

“Marrying you is a big deal.” Zhongli hummed. “Naturally, the ceremony cannot be lacking.”

F/N held back her tears, smiling as they finished taking the registration photos and left with the documents.

During dinner that day, someone asked Chiori, Fontaine's top costume designer, what she had been busy with.

Chiori wiped the oil from her mouth and answered, “Mister Zhongli had a wedding dress custom-made by the most famous old craftsman in Fontaine. The wedding date is drawing near, so he borrowed a few of my tailors to rush the work. I helped with some of the wedding details.”

Hearing Zhongli's name, Lyney unconsciously felt uneasy.

“The size seemed a lot like F/N's.” Chiori recalled. “It's been so long since she came in for a clothes fitting.”

Lyney's unfounded guilt was suppressed; he hadn't given F/N much money for a long time. Even her bag from from a few years ago.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Lumine's handbag next to her and remembered the brand was one F/N liked. It seemed to him that he had indeed treated her unfairly. Right then, he decided he must make it right and cherish F/N and live well with her.

“The day she left the White Manor, I called her, but it seemed F/N's phone was no longer in use.” Chiori took a drink of Fonta. “Being in love and continuously betrayed can be exhausting.”

Lyney had been unable to find F/N for the past three months; he remembered the night before when he went to have a proposal qipao custom-made by Chiori for F/N, he had caught a glimpse of Zhongli from afar. Lyney's eyes widened suddenly when he recalled Zhongli's meaningful smile: the last time he called F/N, besides some murmurs, all that was left was a stifled groan.

After the legal marriage, Zhongli took F/N to meet the rest of his family and F/N was instantly accepted. In just a few months, Zhongli had given her all the affection; the love she had wasted an entire youth on with Lyney and never got in return.

Lyney stopped in front of Chioriya Boutique and entered the boutique.

Chiori, measuring fabric sizes with her head down, looked up. “What's the matter, Lyney? Lumine ordered several clothes. I haven't finished them yet.”

Lyney was stunned; it seemed that even Lumine could come in for dress fittings, but he hadn't given F/N the qualification to come in.

“I want to order a qipao for F/N.” Lyney informed. “The best-looking one for our engagement.”

Chiori looked at Lyney who seemed oddly fixated and didn't say a word. After a while, she spoke, “F/N hadn't come to see me for a long time. This size is from when she was in college. The last I saw her at White Manor; she's lost too much weight. You haven't seen her in a long time, right? Leave her alone.”

“She'll never leave.” Lyney was certain. “She's F/N. She loves me the most. How could she not want me?”

Chiori scoffed, ruthless in shattering his illusion. “She's too good for you. She's leaving because of you.”

“Help me.” Lyney pleaded, shedding tears. “I want to see her. I will bring a ring and go propose to her; give her a home.”

Chiori smirked; she knew the ring F/N had was sent by another man. Zhongli deserved her much more than Lyney ever did.

“Zhongli,” F/N started, the married couple were cuddling in bed. “I want to study aboard; further my education. I've given up too much, I want to reclaim my family pride and business.”

Lyney finally located F/N's whereabouts after much effort. But seeing the door open, pained his eyes. He didn't even dare to ask inside; the soft voice he heard was meant for someone else.

His eyes reddened; his steps wanted to leave countless times, but he couldn't. He couldn't plot against her.

He crouched outside the villa's door all night, listening to F/N's shallow breathing and imagining her flourishing with someone else. He bit his lip fiercely, regretting countless times why he hadn't touched her. Why had he gradually pushed the person he loved most to another?

The door creaked; Zhongli had heard it, had also witnessed Lyney's distraught figure. But in Zhongli's mind, it wasn't enough; he teased F/N's lips to make a more satisfied sound. It still wasn't enough: Lyney had bullied Zhongli's sweetheart for too long. He needed to confront his feelings.

Lyney pondered countless ways of a reunion, but he didn't expect it to be at the wedding.

Holding the golden embossed invitation written in F/N's own handwriting; beside hers, there was Zhongli's majestic and dignified font; clearly written on it was F/N's name alongside another man's.

It was Zhongli who personally sent the invitation, which Lyney, reluctant to face, but couldn't refuse the family's request, if someone personally invites you and insists on your punctuality, why dawdle here? Zhongli's power and influence extended to his family business empire. There was naturally no way to refuse.

Arlecchino's gaze lingered on F/N's name for a long time and told Lyney firmly, “You do anything out of line, I won't forgive you.”

On the day of the wedding, Lyney pocketed the delicate wooden box that held the wedding ring and in the wedding dress box stored the heavy-duty cheongsam he had specially tailored from Chiori. This was his gift; even if Zhongli got angry, he wanted to bring F/N back home.

Full of hope for a reunion, he flew to Liyue.

But as he entered, the wedding was already in progress.

“I do.” without hesitation with happiness and joy, F/N smiled, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she placed her hand in Zhongli's palm.

Lyney stood frozen in place, watching the couple on stage. ; it was as if he saw F/N for the first time. Dressed in the most gorgeous wedding gown, having the grandest wedding; it was just like the request she made back then, but the groom ended up being someone else.

Lyney covered his heart; he realized too late that he had not known to cherish F/N before. He wept, dropping tears and kneeling amidst the crowd's gasps.

But no one paid him any attention.

A/N: Writing this so I can get the Geo grandpa on my main account. A/N 2: Sorry, Lyney. I made you the bad guy again.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x female reader #genshin angst #cheater lyney x lumine #zhongli x reader #genshin x reader #zhongli x female reader

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fanaticsnail · 1 year ago

Text

The Marine's Mistake

Masterlist here.

Word Count: 1,700+ (just a small little drabble for me!!)

Warnings: Clean-shaven Mihawk, lots of flirting, mentions of drinking.

@feral-artistry requested this a while ago, and I finally had enough in me to pump out this little drabble. I can easily see myself adding to this little relationship down the line, but for now it's all short, sweet and innocent.

Hushed whispers travelled along the rotund dining table in the dimly-lit tavern. Hands shielding lips, narrowed eyes, the smallest tilt of chins spread like the trickle of seawater through a crack in the ship’s hull to litter the hallway with the salty liquid.

“What do you think happened?” a red-headed marine uttered to her comrade beside her, eyes widening the longer her sights were held to the table in the centre of the tavern.

“He wouldn’t have shaved it,” another shook their head, raising the cool glass of bitter beer to their lips. A small foam line falling to their top lip as they pulled the glass back to utter: “it’s a part of his look, right? It wouldn’t be intentional.”

“Perhaps it was an accident,” a blonde, tall cadet uttered with a curt nod, “cannon fire, a blast or something.”

“I don’t think he’d be close enough to the end of a cannon for that to happen,” a smaller, pink-haired cadet offered in response as he adjusted his circular glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You sat at the corner of the table, not quite following the conversation falling amongst your peers of marines. This was the third transfer you’d been a part of in the span of a month: the latest ship needing to utilise your skills as a hand-to-hand combat specialist to better the skills of the marines.

Vice-Admiral Garp and his marine cadets were in the early stages of building rapport with you, you only truly interacting with your peers and subordinates while running drills or swapping over watch shifts so far. This venture in land for the replenishment of supplies and to fix up any chipped wood for the ship was truly your first opportunity to really get to know your new crew on a deeper level.

You looked down at the end of your pint-glass, the slosh of the final dregs of the beaded liquid swaying as you held your gaze firmly to it.

“Marines,” you addressed your peers, bringing the attention of your drinking companions over to you, “I’m getting another round,” you rose to your feet, pushing your wooden bar-stool back beneath the table below, “speak now if you’d like another, I think it’s my turn this time?”

A chorus of a resounding “yes!” fell to your ears, prompting a small giggle rise in your chest. The “yes!” gained the attention of the rest of the small dining room, prompting you to lower your palm to the floor with a playful “shh”, the laugh falling as you began taking orders.

“I’m assuming all ales then?” you asked as your laughter diminished, “I should just get a jug, at this stage.”

“Yes to the jug!” the red-head began to chant, a broad smile displayed openly on her lips.

“Aye!” the marine beside her confirmed with a similar amount of enthusiasm.

Another giggle fell from your lips as you turned to make your way to the wooden bar, the barkeeper meeting your gaze with a nod in your approach. As you stood your torso up against the bar with a handful of berry clutched in your hand, your eyes travelled to the body which began their own approach to the bar.

The gentleman was adorning an open, cream-coloured silk shirt, frills embellishing the low collar with a crossed draw-string revealing the crevasses of his muscular chest. Dark and loose curls framed his face, angular and strong arches of his jaw and cheek bones comparable to carved marble. His yellow eyes beneath his long, dark eyelashes held an intensity you hadn’t seen before.

He was breathtaking. Your eyes travelled to his dark, leather pants held by a woven belt with a large, brass buckle. Trailing your eyes back up, you found your gaze met by the gentleman you were shamelessly undressing with your eyes; a warmth rising to your cheeks under the knowledge that you were found out.

“Marine,” he offered in a bored tone as he drew his body beside yours at the bar.

“Beautiful,” you challenged him, a small smirk rising to your lips. He arched his brow upwards in response, his intense frown no longer present atop his handsome features. He hummed, leaning his elbows against the wooden bar and flicking out his index and middle finger to gain the attention of the bartender.

“What are we drinking, gorgeous?” you asked him, turning your shoulders to offer him your full attention.

“We?” he scoffed, yellow eyes trailing over your face as his shaven chin pointed towards your own, “I am not buying you a drink, Marine.”

He turned back towards the bar, completely ignoring your presence beside him as he focussed on trailing the bartender with his eyes.

“I never suggested such a thing, charming,” you taunted him, your index finger trailing the benchtop beside him slowly; drawing his gaze to your digits. He arched his brow upwards, intrigue gracing his honey-coloured eyes briefly. The bartender finally gracing the both of you with his presence, brushing down the benchtop with a tea-towel and smiling broadly.

“What’ll it be?” he asked, placing his white and blue tea-towel over his shoulder and leaning against the counter.

“Three jugs of ale for the table in the corner,” you smiled, turning again to the man beside you, “and add his drinks to my tab, along with two more of what he’s having.”

The dark-haired man snapped his face back towards you, eyes wide at your boldness. His eyes narrowed at you, training over your playful expression.

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” he uttered in a low tone.

“None in the slightest,” you shrugged, your bottom lip falling into a small pout, “but I sure would like to.”

The man was taken aback, his eyes widening before a small smirk grew itself against his lips.

“A bottle of Sangiovese,” he tilted his chin back at the bartender, “and two glasses.”

You scrunched your nose upwards in delight, drawing out the berry to cover your tab and handing it over to the bartender. You turned to face your torso to the room, your elbows finding the bar behind you as you arched your back outwards in your leaning.

“Sangiovese?” you questioned the mysterious man beside you, “you in the mood for something more on the tart and sour side, handsome?”

“There you are again with the pet-names, Marine,” he taunted you with a small purr in his tone, prompting a warm flush to once again draw over your face. You broke away your eye contact with him and looked to the table of your peers; who seemed to have widening eyes and the colour drained from their faces. You shook your head a little, brows furrowing in question as they witnessed a waitress bring over their jugs of ale.

“And here I was thinking my poor mood would travel back home with me, after that meeting,” he uttered under his breath as the bartender came back with a decanted bottle of sangiovese and two crystal wine-glasses.

“What was that?” you asked him, turning your gaze back towards the gentleman who currently captivated you with his mysterious aura.

“Indeed, sweetheart,” he leant his body over yours, towering you beneath his intimidating aura, “something tart that I can roll over my palate with subtle spice is what the current mood of the hour calls for.”

Instead of backing away and cowering beneath his towered stoop, you instead arched your back upwards further and lulled your head to the side with your jaw revealed to him. He hummed down at you, reaching behind you both to collect the glasses and the decanter within his wide fingertips.

“You are intriguing,” he praised you in a deep rumbly whisper, his lips falling dangerously close to your own as he retrieved the objects behind you, “allow me to escort you outside to continue this delicious conversation over the wine you graciously paid for, that is-.”

You tilted your head, awaiting for him to continue his sentence. He turned his head to look to your commanding officer, Bogard and Vice-Admiral Garp, with his brow arched upwards. His lips curled up into a smirk, you watching how truly beautiful his smile grew to become.

“That is…-?” you trailed in question for him to continue, drawing your right hand up to his cheek. You utilised your index finger and thumb to collect his smooth chin and draw his attention back to you. Upon slowly sweeping the room before drawing his attention back towards you.

“That is, if you’re completely ‘off-duty’ for the rest of the evening,” his lips grew into a soft, playful grin. Oh, how gorgeous.

“A whole evening with a gorgeous stranger?” you questioned him, releasing his chin from your fingers and opting to caress his cheek, “and here I thought we were just sharing wine. Honey, you spoil me.”

A small rumbly growl released itself from within his chest to almost purr at you. He withdrew from his stoop, turning with the collected decanter and glasses within his right hand and turning to offer you the crook of his left elbow to escort you out of the tavern.

“You truly have no idea who I am?” he chuckled at you as he led you from the tavern doors, the room falling almost silent amongst the gasps and whispers from your peers.

“Should I, beautiful?” you asked him giving his bicep a small squeeze as you praised him. He sighed with a small chuckle, drawing his forehead in to press against your own briefly as he allowed the doors of the tavern to swing shut behind him.

The sunset hovering over the sea was a welcome sight, the warmth of the day falling on your skin and welcoming it into the romantic atmosphere you had both found yourselves in for the evening.

Dracule Mihawk was going to enjoy this unbridled and flirtatious attention for as long as you would allow yourself to play along with him. It had been a while since his aura of intimidation had been shed from his body, and even longer still since he was the one being approached at a bar rather than himself finding someone to toy with. He simply can’t wait for the pin to drop against the floor and you realise you are literally dancing with death.

And it was all thanks to a horrible prank performed by the chop-chop devil-fruit user. The devil-fruit user who was currently pinned against the hull of his ship by harsh chains of sea-stone as punishment fitting the crime. Perhaps he should even thank the infamous clown-captain for his idiocy, but for now: the promise of wine and a beautiful, flirtatious companion for the evening awaits. How Mihawk adored this attention.

#one piece #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #x reader #mihawk #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader

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