#but bottom line isn’t that what they’re both after

[hardlypartying]

Both JJ and Rafe blowing through their newfound wealth will never fail to make me laugh because yet again they get another parallel. I was too focused on JJ’s case since there were some real (narrative) consequences there while Rafe’s loss just felt… fake? Like he’s a kook and he’ll get back up on his feet but that’s not the case bc he’s so emotionally dependent on the people around him to make choices, let alone good choices, that he’s fucked. He’s never learned to stand on his own two feet and no matter how much he peacocks, everyone knows it and he’s so fucking paranoid about that. He’s just gonna keep losing it to anyone who shows him a modicum of kindness while JJ is entirely too sure of himself because there is no other alternative, he’s all he’s got. He doesn’t ask anyone before he does anything. At the end of the day, the both of them are trying to cosplay as uber rich people lol. They just have vastly different approaches in their need for validation & the subsequent self destruction.

[withahappyrefrain]

Ruin the Friendship- Bob Floyd

Warnings: Best friends to lovers trope, it’s so obvious they love each other they’re stupid, language, filth, some angst (why not?), unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), Bob being pussy drunk.

Summary: The night before Bob leaves for Boot Camp, he's learned no one has gone down on his best friend. He's determined to fix that.

Words: 4.8K

This is for @attapullman's Bob Fucks celebration!

When you've been friends with someone since preschool, you get to know them like the back of your hand. Certain quirks and sayings that no longer surprise you. 

“God, I wish that were me.”

It wasn't the first time Bob heard you say that. Usually there was a cute dog around, or a sushi boat being delivered at a restaurant when you said it. 

But saying it during an oral sex scene in a movie was new. 

It also brought up many questions. 

Questions Bob shouldn't ask, considering he's known you since preschool. Questions Bob couldn't ask right now, because he was too preoccupied looking at you. 

Your eyes were fixated on the screen, focused on the actress withering. Occasionally, they would dart to the other actor who was between the actress’ thighs. Bob noticed the increased rise and fall of your chest, how your front teeth dug into your bottom lip, how when you lean forward, the v-line cut of your shirt showed off the tops of your breasts. The soft glow of the lamps highlighted the beautiful features on your face. 

All things he shouldn’t be noticing about his best friend. But then again, best friends shouldn’t be watching a French film together whose plot line focused on sexual liberation before he went off to Navy boot camp. 

Granted, you and Bob haven’t had a conventional best friend relationship in a while, if at all, considering both sets of parents claimed you two promised to marry each other at the age of four. 

Promises or not, best friends shouldn’t be one another’s first kiss. Or make out practice partners. Or each other’s New Year's kiss when y'all were single. Or spend Valentine's Day together at the local dinner. 

The line between friends and something more was blurry, saved by a comment that ensured the other to think that the feelings that had been brewing weren't reciprocated. 

“You’re a good kisser. Kelsey McCoy is going to think so too.”

“If Tommy Delaine doesn't like you, he's a dumbass.” 

“I’m sure next year you’ll have someone.”

“If I had to spend it with anyone, I want it to be with my best friend.”

“You’re an amazing friend, you know that?”

Why say that if you harbor romantic feelings? Surely, all those kisses and talk of marriage meant nothing to them. 

At least that's what the other thought. 

It's because of this blurry line that Bob doesn't bite his tongue, doesn't throw away the comment to be forgotten. Instead, he speaks up. 

“Been awhile?” 

And because it's Bob, the guy you've known your whole life, the guy you tell everything to, your response rolls off your tongue without a second thought. 

“Try never.” 

It takes Bob a moment to process your words as the way your lips wrap around the beer bottle is far too distracting. But just like processing a car accident, once it registers, your words bring his brain to a screeching halt. 

“Wait, never?” The shrug you give isn’t satisfactory. He grabs the remote to pause the movie, ignoring your cries of protest. 

“Real talk; are you saying that no one has ever gone down on you?” 

You sigh, regretting saying anything in the first place. One would think that after years of friendship, you’d know well enough that once Bob set his mind to something, he wouldn't relent until satisfied. 

You down the remnants of your beer, mentally preparing for this conversation. 

“No Robby. I've never had someone eat me out. Happy now?” Reaching for the remote was all in vain, as he just held it further away from you. 

Darn those long limbs. 

“But you've been with people…..so what did they do?” When you looked at him, there was no malice, just Bob looking genuinely baffled. His gentle blue eyes put you at ease, giving you the comfort to explain. 

“They would touch me,” you motioned to the lower half of your body, “And like finger me. Enough to get me ready, I guess.” 

Bob raised an eyebrow, “You guess?” 

College was supposed to be a time for you to explore, to figure yourself out, to interact with new people. 

And yet, when it came to the relationship aspect, everything had fizzled. You were now going into your junior year having yet to experience a meaningful romantic relationship. 

Did you just have shit luck? Or was it because your mind would wander back to a bespectacled best friend when you were in bed with someone else? 

“So instead of eating you out, which would actually be enjoyable on your end, you're telling me they just stuck their hand down there and hoped they were rubbing your clit? You didn't ever ask them to do something else?” 

Bob didn't have the pristine mouth that parents thought he possessed. You knew, and had known for a while. And yet, hearing him say the phrase your clit in his deep, slightly twangy voice felt different. 

You rubbed your thighs together. 

“Are you shaming the people I've been with or me?” 

Bob closed the difference between you and him on the couch, placing a hand on your bare knee. 

Have his hands always been so big and veiny? 

Fuck, did you have a thing for hands? 

“I'm not shaming you. I’m shaming the people you've been with because well,” he ran a hand up and down the back of his neck, “Well, I enjoy giving….I like doing it. So I guess I'm surprised other people don't?” 

His statement was shocking because everyone else you had been with viewed it as a chore, as something to use every excuse in the book to avoid doing. 

Too tired. Takes too long. Wet enough so what's the point? 

“You…like doing it?” 

The tops of his cheeks reddened, despite a smirk beginning to form, “Yeah. I like giving and I like making them feel good. It's also a confidence booster, being able to make someone fall apart with your mouth.” 

It shouldn't come as a surprise, it was Bob after all. The same Bob who always brought an extra pencil with him to algebra, in case you forgot yours. The same Bob who shared his Dunkaroos because your mom refused to buy them. The same Bob who made his dream of serving his country finally come true after years of hard work. 

He was selfless. But this didn't feel like selflessness. Hearing him talk about giving pleasure, making someone fall apart with his mouth, was different. Even his voice when he said it was different, raspier than usual. 

“Well,” you scooted closer to the edge of the couch, trying to widen the gap so he couldn't feel how hot your body was, “I can't wait ‘til I meet someone who feels the same way.” 

“You don't have to wait.” 

The grip on your beer bottle tightened, the alcohol getting caught in your throat. There's no way he could have just said that, no way he could be implying what you're thinking. 

But when you look at Bob, he was staring back with raised eyebrows and thin lips curled into a little smirk. The same look he’s given you countless times before when he mumbles a smartass comment only your ears were privy to hear. 

You heard me. 

“What-are you…” You stared at him, mouth agape. Bob appeared unphase by it, like he had just offered something totally normal and rational. 

Perhaps it was the three beers he had downed. Perhaps it was the rush of adrenaline kicking in after realizing this was his last chance at making a move before he left. 

“Wouldn't that be like crossing a line?” Your head was racing, alternating between flashbacks of when you kissed Bob and imagining what it would be like to have his mouth on your body. 

“Wouldn't be much different from what we’ve already done.” 

All the air was sucked out of the room by his comment. Because of course he wasn't doing this because he wanted to, because he wanted you. This would be meaningless, just like everything else. If you went through with this, you’d wake up the next day to Bob leaving with nothing changed, still in this seemingly endless limbo. 

Long, nimble fingers hooked themselves under your chin, gently forcing you to look up. 

The look he gave you was unfamiliar. His eyes remained focused on your face, though it seemed like they were searching. 

For what, you couldn't tell. 

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Do you want it to be different?” 

What good was telling him if he didn’t feel the same way, thus ruining a great friendship?

“Do you want it to be different Robby?” You countered back. 

He leaned in, his breath hot on your face, “I asked you first.”

He thought he had the upper hand. But you were like a lightning bug, faster.  

“I asked you second, Robby.”

Like a rubber band, the tension snapped as Bob was unable to hold back a snort of laughter. The tension left your shoulders, the sight of him laughing familiar and safe. 

“I’m going to really miss your resounding maturity,” Bob deadpanned after gaining the ability to compose himself, though a sweet crooked smile remained. 

It was now your turn to roll your eyes, though it didn’t stop the smile currently forming on your face. Seeing this side of Bob was always fun; most folks thought he was quiet and meek. The truth was that he liked to observe and didn’t find value in speaking when it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t hold back with you, didn’t feel the need to sit and observe. He truly conversed with you and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel special. 

He was never that way with the other girls he dated. 

“You love me,” you teased back. It was a comment you've said countless times, always with that sweet, albeit mischievous smile that made Bob's heart flutter. 

But this time instead of shaking his head or rolling his eyes, he leaned forward until your foreheads were touching. 

Seeing him up close took your breath away. You could see how his roots were beginning to darken, the blonde fading as he got older. The little scar on his chin from a BB Gun incident when he was ten. Eyes bluer than the ocean. The ends of his hair were beginning to curl, something you'd greatly miss when he'd get the military mandated buzz cut. 

“Yeah, I do.” There was no teasing in his voice. No mischief in his eyes. Instead of playfully shaking your shoulder, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, fingers cupping your warm skin. He was moving quickly, making you unable to truly process what he had just said. 

Despite it being new territory, he was handling it beautifully. You, on the other hand, were torn between wondering if your increased heart beat was medically concerning and how large Bob’s hands were. 

“You gotta….if you want to stop, tell me,” His breathing had increased, like it did when he had finished his part in the marching band. But this wasn’t marching band practice and y’all weren’t on the high school field. You were in your parents’ basement, with Bob’s lips quickly closing the gap between yours and his. 

It wasn’t your first time kissing Bob, but it might as well have been. Years of experience had given him more confidence. He knew where to put his hands now, one still on your neck to guide you, the other gripping the soft flesh of your hip. He didn’t hesitate to slide his tongue across your bottom lip, successfully driving you wild. 

When the rounded tip of his nose brushed against yours, a soft laugh escaped your lips. Bob didn’t mind, using the chance to let his tongue explore your mouth. Your body leaned towards him, hands gripping the soft fabric of his old Warped Tour T-shirt. 

“I thought you,” your words were slurred, a weak moan interrupting your speech due to his lips moving down to your neck, “Thought you were gonna eat me out.” 

Bob’s moan vibrated against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands traveled to your breasts, gripping them through your T-shirt. It wasn't a hard squeeze, which is what you were used to. 

It was pleasurable. Bob was pleasurable. 

“Did none of the guys you were with do foreplay?” He asked, his hands continuing their ministrations. 

“I-fuck- yes they did, it just never took this long,” you grunted against his lips. 

“God, you have terrible taste in men.”

You wanted to let Bob know that he was now included in that group. But then his fingers hooked themselves around the band of your shorts, pulling them down. Had you known what tonight would entail, you would have opted for underwear that wasn't so worn. The long hairs on his arms tickled your sensitive skin as he moved to kneel on the floor, the cool basement air making you realize just how wet you were. 

How could he do that so quickly? 

He pinned your hips against the soft couch cushions. With anyone else, you would complain with how hard he was gripping your soft skin. But with Bob, you’d love it. It meant hand-shaped bruises that would stay after he left, reminding you of tonight. 

When his sharp nose nudged your clothed slit, a loud gasp erupted from your mouth. 

Thank god your parents were on vacation. 

His tongue was so wide as it stroked the quickly dampening fabric. How was he able to find your clit so quickly? Most struggled to find it even after your panties had been taken off. 

Bob couldn’t help but chuckle upon hearing your strained whimpers. You were practically squirming, hips erratically jerking with every touch. 

“Wha-why did you stop?” You whined, looking down to find him staring up to you. 

“Are you-I just need to know, do you still want this?” God, he was so fucking considerate. In any other moment, you’d find it endearingly sweet. 

But if his tongue felt that good against your covered cunt, you were dying to feel it without the barrier. 

“Robby, I swear to god, if you don’t eat me out, I’m going upstairs and using my vibrator,” Your voice was strained, your knuckles turning white from gripping the couch cushions.  

He laughed.  Bob knew you were bluffing. He had just gotten started and you were already so wet. 

Slowly, he took his glasses off, placing them on the coffee table behind him, making a show of it. 

“Won’t need those. I’m nearsighted after all.”

“You little-” The insult remained unsaid, as Bob pushed your underwear to the side, his mouth instantly latching onto your swollen clit. 

His mouth was warm. The pressure wasn’t too much, just enough to make you wither in pleasure. It felt so good, so fucking good. When Bob looked up, he found your mouth open, despite no sounds coming out. 

Good. 

You deserved to know what it was like, to have someone care about your pleasure, to focus solely on making you feel incredible. 

God, he could feel his cock throbbed. You looked so pretty with your eyes glazed over, mouth agape as you watched him, completely enthralled. 

And he had just gotten started. 

He wanted to do more than make you come, he wanted to blow your mind. Call it selfish, but Bob wanted to ruin you for anyone else. He had always held back his tongue when it came to the people you dated, knowing sooner or later you'd realized they weren't worth your time. 

But now he had his chance and Bob sure as hell wasn't going to let it slip away. 

The loud sound of fabric ripping broke you out of the pleasure filled haze you were in. Before you could make a sound about your now ripped underwear, your knees were pinned to your chest, giving Bob complete access to your soaked core.

“So fucking sweet,” He groaned against your cunt, sending vibrations all through your body, “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” 

“Robby.” 

To say Bob dreamed of hearing you moan his name would be the understatement of the fucking century. 

Your whole body was on fire, unable to do anything else but take everything Bob was giving. 

A resounding moan fell from your lips as Bob thrusted two fingers inside you, your walls struggling to accommodate the unexpected stretch. 

Was he this thick elsewhere?

You wanted to find out. Wanted to feel it inside you, in your mouth. You shamelessly wanted it all. But you couldn’t even voice that because Bob was tracing figure eights on your clit, his fingers brushing against a spot you thought Cosmo had made up. 

Fuck, he was doing a number on you. His soft hair threaded through your fingers as you gripped the strands. Your hips involuntarily jerked upwards, desperate to get as much of Bob as possible. 

You kept expecting him to stop, considering you were wet enough for him to fuck you. That's what everyone else did. 

But Bob Floyd wasn't like everyone else. Far from it. 

He was fucking delighted to hear all the cute, strained noises coming from you as he continued.  Each time you tugged on his hair, a groan would fall from his lips. It was the prettiest sound you had ever heard. 

Why did either of you wait this long? 

You tried to communicate, to let him know you were close, tugging on his hair, trying to move away from his mouth. 

But Bob was deceivingly strong, using his free hand to pin your hip back to the couch, his mouth firmly on your pussy. 

When you looked down, you were in awe of how blissed Bob looked. His eyes were closed as his mouth remained latched to your clit. The sounds of your own wetness were obscene, but barely audible over the moans Bob was letting out. 

He really did enjoy it.

“Come. Wanna taste ya,” His voice was muffled as he added a third finger inside you. 

Worried thoughts of coming on his face left your brain as pleasure coursed through your veins. Without any warning, the band that had been tightening came undone.

Bob used both hands to hold your hips firmly in place, his tongue lapping up your release. 

You don't recall coming this hard or this long before. It wasn't a small wave, it felt like the whole damn ocean was taking you under. 

His fingers continued to stretch you open, prolonging your high. The Navy was the perfect fit for him, considering he could apparently hold his breath for an impressive amount of time. 

The soft fabric of the couch cushions brushed as the back of your head, your eyes half closed. You couldn't even voice an acknowledge when Bob’s mouth and fingers withdrew from your abused cunt. 

“You're so pretty when you come,” Bob murmured, his lips brushing against yours. 

Your hands tugged on the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. 

“M-my turn,” you whined, hips jerking up towards his. 

Bob shook his head, “Wanna be inside ya.” 

How was this the same guy who feared clowns as a kid? 

Before you could even question it, Bob had sat down on the couch, gripping your hips to help you straddle his lap. When had he taken off his jeans? How was he so quick- 

Jesus Christ, he was huge. 

“Fuck, she was right.” 

Bob looked up from where you two were about to connect, a very confused look on his face, “Excuse me?” 

“Betsey Thomas said you had a huge dick,” you confessed, wishing that you'd think before speaking for once. 

Bob’s brows knitted together in confusion, “Betsey Thomas has never seen my dick, the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Said she could tell you were packing because of the gym shorts you'd wear for PE class.” Bob signed, shaking his head as he muttered something about the required uniform. 

“I….we can unpack this later-” 

You snorted, “Why? Too busy packing here?” 

Your laughter was cut short by Bob rubbing his cock against your soaked cunt. Memories of high school escaped your brain, the only thing you could focus on now was Bob and his huge dick. 

Curious wasn't accurate. Frankly, you were desperate for him. Had been since middle school, if you were being truthful. 

“Woah, hey. Easy baby, easy,” his voice made your thighs clench, made you whine into his shoulder as you tried to line your aching hole with his cock. 

Finally, you felt him at your entrance. Slowly, he filled you up inch by inch. Every time you tried to urge him to go faster, Bob would simply shake his head before pressing a kiss against your cheek. 

“Don't want to hurt ya darlin’.” 

Darlin. You were his darlin. 

He made you feel so full, and you didn't even have it all inside of you yet. All you could do was cling to him as he whispered praises in your ears. 

Once you reached the base, it felt like you and Bob were the only ones in the world. At least, that’s what you pretended. It was better than thinking about how he would be gone for who knows how long after tonight. After boot camp was done, he would be off to train for the Navy. 

Even he didn't know when he would return home. 

It wasn't fair, finally expressing your feelings for one another just to be separated immediately after. You wanted him to stay, to go on dates with him, to visit him on the weekends when school started, just like everyone else in a long distance relationship. 

“Hey, what's wrong? Do you- we can stop if you want, it's okay.” Bob’s voice was soft, full of concern. 

His hand lifted your chin up from his shoulder, revealing your watery eyes. 

“I don't want you to go.” 

“I know,” his voice was barely a whisper, matching your volume. Long fingers gently traced over your face, as if he was trying to memorize them. 

“I know it's horrible timing, but we'll figure it out, okay? I want to figure it out with you, I promise,” He peppered your face with soft kisses, earning a small smile out of you. 

“But for now, can I make ya feel good? Because I'm willing to bet no guy has made you come while fucking ya.” 

Unlike in the past, where Bob’s smartass comments earned him a shove, you pressed your lips against his. 

“I'm gonna start moving now, okay?” Even though he warned you, nothing could have prepared you for how full Bob made you when his hips thrusted upwards. 

“You're-fuck- you feel so good, oh my God.” 

Your fingers tangled into Bob’s hair, trying to commit the feeling to memory. 

Bob was trying to do the same, his hands roaming over your body as he took in your scent. Maybe if he asked nicely, you'd let him take a bottle of your perfume with him. 

He was going to need it for the next few months. 

Your mouth clashed against his, tongue desperate to taste him. Wandering hands desperate to feel everything everywhere. 

“When-fuck- when I come back, wanna take you out. W-we can go to that Italian place by your school. The one where you have to wear a tie.” How Bob was able to talk coherently while fucking you was beyond comprehension. 

The Navy will be lucky to have his great ability to multitask. 

“Gonna bring ya flowers too. Sunflowers ‘cause they're-oh my god- you're favorite.” You didn't think you could recall your full name with the way Bob is thrusting into you, much less favorite things. 

Your walls clench around Bob’s thick cock, eliciting a desperate groan from him, rather than the instant ejaculation you were used to. 

“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna come,” Bob whined into the crook of your neck.

“That’s-shit- the point,” you grunted, your hips picking up speed. 

Bob shook his head, “Need you to come first.” 

Confusion caused you to still your hips, “Bob, I already-” 

“Don't finish that sentence, don't you dare,” Bob ended his command with a strong thrust that made you feel as if he was splitting you open on his cock. 

Your head dropped down to the crook of his neck. His skin was so warm and the smell of sage was nearly overwhelming. You knew exactly what body wash he had used, as it was the same one he wore ever since junior year, when you commented on how nice it was. 

In hindsight, it was painfully obvious. 

His lips found yours, capturing them in a desperate kiss. When you felt his fingers draw circles on your clit, you saw stars. 

You didn't know it could feel this good with someone. This was more than a quick fuck, as you actually felt cared for. It was intense, the sensitivity of your first orgasm still echoing every time the thick head of his cock brushed against your walls. 

It's audible how wet you are for Bob. He can feel it at the base of his cock, which makes him wonder what it would be like to have you on your knees, or better, your back, all spread out for him. 

“C’mon sweet girl,” he’s panting, voice desperate and raspy, “Wanna-fuck! Wanna feel you come s’bad, please, please baby.” 

Each circle drawn on your clit causes the band in your stomach to tighten. Combined with Bob’s words, you knew you wouldn't last much longer. 

“You're incredible, shit, I-fuck. All yours. Wanna be all yours. Fuck fuck fuck, clenching me so hard, fuck, don't stop.” Obscene was not a word many, if any, would use to describe Bob Floyd. 

Up until thirty minutes ago, you would have considered yourself part of that group. 

But now? Now you were falling apart on his cock. The rush of pleasure had hit like a brick, coursing through your veins. It hit harder than anything else, harder than the now banned alcohol caffeine combo drink, or any controlled substance doctors had prescribed to help you focus. 

His finger-fuck, usually you had to use two of your own- didn’t stop rubbing your clit, nor does he stop thrusting in and out of your pulsing cunt. It's almost as if-no, you know Bob’s enjoying making you feel euphoria. 

That's what blows your mind. His laser focus on your pleasure, rather than his own. Truthfully, he could have come already and you wouldn't have thought twice about it. 

But now it was all you could think about. How much he cared, how good he felt. How incredible it was for him to pull your hips flushed against his, filling you to the brim with his cock. 

“Holy shit you're so tight-I, sh-should I pull out?” 

Instead of answering, you used all your strength to rock your hips against him. Considering he made you come twice, the least you could do was help him find his release. 

Your fingers gripped his hair, tugging on the strands as your mouth clashed against his. 

The downright guttural groan he releases against your mouth has you clamping down on his cock. The motion finally leads to Bob’s undoing, causing him to come deep inside you, warmth flooding your body. 

His arms are wrapped around your body, clinging onto you as if he thinks you'll disappear if he lets go. 

You’d be a damn fool to. 

The basement is now quiet, apart from the heavy breathing coming from both you and Bob. 

After several minutes pass by, you gather the courage to break the silence, “Did you mean all that? Taking me out on a date and being mine?” 

Bob’s cheek burned a bright red as he timidly nodded his head, “I….yeah. I didn't mean to say it when we were, you know. I'm sorry.” 

You pressed a reassuring kiss to his warm cheek, “Robby, what do you feel the need to apologize for?” 

He looked up to you, those earnest blue eyes sparkling, “Shit timing?” 

“You're not wrong about that, but like you said earlier, I want to work it out with you.” Your words brought comfort, giving Bob the confidence to place a sweet kiss right on your lips. His smile was burning into yours, causing your stomach to flutter. 

“I know it's not that Italian restaurant, but can I take you out to breakfast tomorrow?” 

The local diner had been a go-to since y'all were thirteen. But this time would be different. This time you wouldn't feel the urge to look away when he caught you staring. This time neither one would correct the waitress when she'd make a comment about y'all being a cute couple. 

The soft call of your name pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“Uh can I….eat you out again? Tomorrow obviously! Like before we go to the diner?” 

Good Lord this man was going to be the death of you.

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

@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @attapullman @ryebecca @sio-ina-bottle @rhettabbotts @callsignspark @roosterforme @lewmagoo @hangmanapologist @justabovewater20 @theharddeck @cumholland @bobfloydsbabe @sometimesanalice @heartfairy @auroralightsthesky

[revasserium]

death before decaf

opla!zoro; 10,414 words; coffee shop/college!au, vague enemies to lovers, fencer!zoro, sports medicine!major reader, slightly ooc zoro (he's a bit more talkative), fluff and flirting, bff!robin, zoro makes the first move, zoro calling reader "princess", mutual pining, both reader and zoro are dumbasses, making out in locker rooms

summary: sanji and nami bet on how long it'll take you and zoro to finally crack over your caffeine-related discourse; or -- that one coffee!shop zoro au that literally no one asked for.

a/n: i keep on saying "this is the longest fic i've written to date" but this really is the longest fic i've written to date. and no, this will not be the only time zoro calls reader "princess" in one of my fics. trust.

one.

“How long did you say?”

“Two weeks, max.”

“Nah… you think?”

“Probably closer to a week. Week and a half.”

Sanji stubs out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe before tossing the smoking nub into the bin, casting Nami a disbelieving look.

“They’ve been going on like this for like three months… and you think they’re gonna crack in the next week and a half? Nah, fam — I call bullshit.”

Nami shrugs, smirking, “Your funeral.”

Sanji scoffs as Nami pushes through the swinging double doors into the main body of the cafe, hitching a smile onto her face as she greets the customers already lined up in front of the counter.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mutters to himself, dusting his hands off on his apron before pushing in after her, putting on his best customer-service smile.

“Mornin’ folks! Welcome to the Straw Hats Cafe, where the coffee’s hot but the people are hotter — what can I get started for you, sweetheart?” he grins as he shoots you a wink and you flash him your best Colgate smile.

“Can I get a decaf latte with —”

“Oat milk, two pumps of caramel, and whipped cream on top? Oh — and a sprinkle of cinnamon cause you can’t have a fall latte without cinnamon, right?” Sanji finishes for you.

You nod, your cheeks flushed a bright, wind-kissed pink from the cold outside.

Behind you, a green-haired boy in a tight-fitting tee and no jacket scoffs under his breath, shaking his head.

“Yep! You know me so well,” you say, giggling and making a point to speak just a bit louder.

“Course I do, darlin’. It’s what I get paid for,” Sanji jots down your order and pushes it to the side where Nami’s already halfway done with making your drink.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite mosshead jock — lemme guess, double espresso, no sugar, no nothin’, right?” Sanji punches in the order just as Zoro makes his way up to the counter, his eyes narrowed.

“Yeah.”

Sanji grins, hiking an eyebrow, “Talkative as always, I see. Alright — that’d be —”

Zoro wordlessly slides a full punch card onto the counter and Sanji pauses.

“Ah — pardon me, I do believe that’s your free drink! You sure you wanna use it on an espresso? Maybe… you wanna try one of our seasonal specials? The maple spice latte’s one of our best —”

Zoro scoffs again, “I’m good. I like my coffee real, thanks.”

Down passed the pastries, you roll your eyes, making an exaggerated face as Nami hands you your drink with a grin.

“Y’know, if you guys just made out I feel like it would fix a lot of this unresolved tension,” she says, even as you nearly choke on your drink.

You’re still coughing when Zoro joins you by the finished drinks counter.

“I’d rather lose an eye than make out with someone who drinks decaf.”

Nami sighs, shooting you a meaningful look as she slides the double espresso toward Zoro.

You wipe your lips with a napkin before leveling him with a glare.

“Well I’d rather gouge my own eyes out than make out with someone who never grew out of his middle school emo-phase.”

“At least I don’t try to use sugar to fill the gaping hole in your life where a real personality should be.”

“At least I don’t make that gaping hole my entire personality.”

“Princess.”

“Edgelord.”

You turn resolutely away from Zoro and smile back at Nami and Sanji, both stealing glances at the pair of you even as they continue to handle the Monday morning rush.

“Thank you guys — I’m gonna be late for class.

Zoro tsks, taking a sip of his espresso.

“I’m gonna be late for practice.”

You huff, pivoting away from him towards the door, purposefully letting it swing shut behind you; Zoro swears as it almost makes him spill his coffee.

Back in the coffee shop, Sanji finishes another order just as Nami washes off her hands to take over at the cashier.

“One and a half weeks?” Sanji asks as he rolls up his sleeves and grabs a few metal cups for steamed milk.

“Yep,” Nami replies, shooting another look out the glass door where they can both still see your’s and Zoro’s silhouettes as you head towards the university campus, “Just about.”

“Alright then, you’re on.”

Nami’s smirk only grows, “Like I said — your funeral.”

two.

You’re fuming all the way to your first morning class — Bio-Organic Chemistry — that you don’t notice your friend Robin until she’s standing right next to you.

“Are you mad at your fencer-boy again?”

You roll your eyes, huffing out a breath, “He’s not my fencer-boy, and no. I’m not mad.”

Robin grins, “Your tone says different.”

You cast her a reproachful look, “I just… bumped into him at the coffee shop again.”

“Ah,” Robin says, her voice saturated with understanding.

You groan, “He just… pisses me off so much! Like, why’s he care how much sugar I put in my drinks or if I drink decaf? He’s just a muscle-head loser who thinks drinking espresso shots makes him somehow more manly or something. Ugh.”

Robin’s grin is amused when you turn to chance her a glance.

“Then… why do you care how he takes his coffee?” Her question is light, but you’ve known her for long enough to know when she’s teasing.

“I didn’t! At least… not until he made fun of my drink first. I mean, who does that anymore? We’re in college! Like, grow up!”

“Mm,” Robin hums, schooling her expression into one of careful consideration and marked compassion, “and of course, you’re just engaging in his… childish antics because he started it first, right?”

You sigh, cupping your very sugary latte between your palms as you both duck into the main lecture building, teaming with students shedding scarves and jackets, shaking off the late autumn chill.

“I know, I know it’s stupid but… he just… pisses me off so much!”

Robin chuckles, her smile distinctly sphinx-like as you press your lips into a pout.

“Well, we can talk about it after morning lecture, hm?”

You sigh and nod, waving her off as she heads down the hallway towards her Ancient Worlds class and you head upstairs for the sciences.

You spend the whole lecture in a mood and by the time you’re excused, your temples have started to throb.

But true to her word, you find Robin waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, a thick leather-bound book clutched to her chest. You give her a questioning look.

“Just some light reading,” she says. You roll your eyes.

“Just say you’re a gigantic nerd and go.”

At this Robin laughs, falling into step next to you as you both start to make your way towards the dining commons.

“Have I ever denied that I was?”

You let out a noncommittal grunt.

Luckily, the commons isn‘t as crowded as it usually is and you both quickly find a seat.

“So,” Robin says as she slides into the seat next to you, propping up her chin on the heel of her hand. There’s a low, lilting tone to her voice that tells you there’s no getting out of it this time.

You sigh again, pursing your lips, staring down at your açaí bowl.

“So what?”

“Tell me about him.”

You scoff, “Not really much to tell — he’s… one of the fencers on the national team. So obviously, he’s got his own head shoved so far up his ass he can probably watch his own lunch dige—“

“So he’s quite good at fencing then.” Robin keeps her voice neutral, taking a contemplative bite of a banana.

“I guess — I mean we’re the top feeder school for the Olympic team, aren’t we?” You jab your spoon into the yogurt, nearly splattering Robin’s new book. She gently tucks it into her bag and motions for you to continue.

“I dunno, there’s not much to tell after that… he’s an arrogant jock who judges people by how they take their coffee,” and at this, you shove a large spoonful of yogurt and açaí into your mouth, glaring at nothing in particular.

“Doesn’t your practical applications class look after the fencing team?”

Again, you grunt, sinking a bit further into your seat at the thought.

“Yeah, I’ve been dreading that all morning, and the class isn’t till Wednesday.”

Robin’s smile is almost too academic as she carefully finishes her banana and gets started on an egg salad sandwich.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?”

You sniff, swallowing another huge mouthful of yogurt.

“It can,” you say, grimacing, “You should see the number of times I’ve had to hold back from dislocating his shoulder on purpose.”

Robin laughs her tinkling, all-knowing laugh, “Every day, I wake up glad to be on your whitelist.”

Your lips twitch into a reluctant grin.

“I’d be nicer too if I were as tall and pretty as you are. But since I’m not one of god’s strongest soldiers, I’ve gotta find other ways of defending myself, y’know?”

“I’m not sure what you do can be called ‘self-defense’ in a court of law but…” she smiles, “You shouldn’t sell yourself short either.”

You cast her a deadpan look, “But I am short. It’s like where 90% of my rage and spite come from.”

Robin grins, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You make a rather childish face, but a comfortable warmth spreads from the center of your chest out towards all your extremities at Robin’s words. She cocks her head and continues.

“Plus… I’ve a creeping suspicion that your fencer-boy would agree that you’re prettier than you think.”

You freeze mid-swallow on your last spoonful of yogurt, eyes wide.

“Wait — what?”

Robin sighs, looking at you as if studying a particularly interesting monolith carved with all her favorite dead languages. You sit back, crossing your arms, feeling raw beneath her inquisitive gaze.

“You can’t still think that this little… feud you two have is purely based on a difference in coffee preference, can you?”

You realize you’re chewing on your bottom lip and force yourself to stop.

“I — I don’t know how it can be anything else though…” but even to your own ears, you sound distinctly unconvinced. Robin cocks her head.

“Think about it — when we were all little kids and running around on playground, which girls would get their pigtails pulled the most?”

Your frown deepens, “But we’re not kids anymore and this isn’t a play —“

“Yes, I know. Just humor me for a moment.”

You squirm in your seat, your heart thudding erratically in your rib cage, making you feel strangely breathless.

“It was… always the girls that the boys had a crush on,” you answer, your voice growing smaller with each word as the realization seeps into your skin like sunlight. And suddenly, it's too hot. The thought that Zoro might be doing this because he likes you isn’t something that’s crossed your mind. Or rather, it isn’t a thought you’d allowed to cross your mind.

“You know, boys aren’t technically considered ‘men’ until they’re in their mid-thirties,” Robin says, conversational and satisfied to have driven the point home to you. She leans back even as you reach up to press your face into the palms of your hands.

“But…” you try to grasp for some thread of logic that might be able to refute Robin’s claim but come up empty. She’s always been too smart for her own good. And yours.

When you finally lift your head again, it’s to find Robin still watching you, an oddly indulgent smile on her lips.

“C’mon,” she says, gathering her things, “don’t want you to be late for your next lecture.”

She has the audacity to wink as you hurriedly grab your stuff as well.

“Shut up,” you say, bumping her lightly with your elbow as you walk passed her, cheeks darkening with every step. Your next lecture, you both know, is the Nutrition of Sports — which is one of the few actual classes that you and Zoro actually share.

“Have fun in class!” Robin calls as you split ways outside the dining commons. You consider flipping her off but decide against it and opt to stick out your tongue at her instead.

Robin shakes her head, laughing quietly to herself. Really, she thinks, this is just starting to get interesting.

three.

You walk into Nutrition of Sports fully prepared to see Zoro slouched in his usual seat at the back of the class — except, he’s not there. You blink; he’s always been there, always early despite what others might assume of his punctuality. And yet.

“Lookin’ for me, Princess?”

You jump as you hear Zoro’s voice behind you, dangerously close to your ear. Jerking around, you find him smirking, arms crossed as he stares at you.

“N-no.”

“Tch.” He saunters into the room, his arm barely grazing yours as he drops into his seat, leaning back with a sort of damnable, feline grace, doing nothing to hide a huge, lethargic yawn. When he makes a show of stretching his arms over his head, you pause as you notice the way he winces, favoring his left side over his right.

You narrow your eyes.

“You’d be a shit poker player,” he says, grinning as he turns his eyes back towards you, catching you staring before you flush a deep purple and stomp towards your own seat, just one row ahead of him.

You noisily start setting up your supplies — an endless parade of jelly pens and perfectly coordinated sticky notes in aesthetically pleasing colors — pretending like you hadn’t heard him.

Thankfully, the professor hurries in soon after as the rest of the students file in.

Halfway through the lecture, you’re stifling the third yawn of the hour as you feel a small, crumpled something hit the back of your neck. You jerk around to find Zoro ducking behind his arms even as you spot the small wad of paper that he’d obviously just tossed at you.

You bend down to pick it up, only to find a note scribbled in slanted, uneven handwriting ��

Sugar crash? Ha. Serves you right.

You nearly whip around but the professor clicks another slide and drones on. You huff, flipping the paper over to scribble on the back —

What happened to your arm?

You surreptitiously toss the note back to him and grin to yourself as you hear him sputtering behind you. The professor glances towards you. You flash him a winning smile as you continue to jot down notes; behind you, you hear the distinct sounds of Zoro scrambling to appear as if he’s paying attention.

The rest of the lecture goes by uninterrupted, though by the end, you swear that your hackles are raised from the way Zoro’s been staring at the back of your neck the entire time.

“What?” you ask, whipping around to face him.

Zoro, for his part, has the decency to look sheepish as he clears his throat and sighs, leaning back.

“There’s nothing wrong with my arm,” he says as he looks away, a slight darkness dusting the high of his cheeks. It’s not the first time you notice the bone-chiseled features of his face — like some gorgeous, careless god, rendered by the loving hands of a besotted Renaissance artist and preserved for the world to see — the way a constellation of freckles scatter across the bridge of his nose, the way his jaw is sharp enough to sting the imagination.

“Right. Fine. Sorry I asked.” You shove your notes and pens back into your bag, rolling your eyes as you shoulder your tote, “And… you’d be a shit poker player too.”

And with that, you turn and leave the room without a single backward glance.

You’re gone so quick that you don’t see the way Zoro stares after you, his own eyes narrowed into slits. You don’t see the way he frowns as one of his teammates nudges him with an elbow, reminding him that afternoon practice starts in 15 minutes.

four.

Tuesday night finds you slumped over a stack of books on the 3rd floor of the library, your entire body feeling odd and boneless. Hundreds of tiny flashcards are scattered across the top of the desk, each filled with a system you have to memorize before your test on Friday for your O-Chem course, when suddenly, a white paper cup appears in your field of vision, plopping onto the tiny slip of table still available between all your study materials.

“Hm?” you jerk up, blinking blearily up at a vaguely familiar green-haired figure even as he crosses his arms and sighs.

“There. Some real coffee. Looked like you need it,” Zoro says, glancing away the moment your eyes come into focus.

You stare at him for a solid ten seconds before looking back down at the cheap, watered-down cup of unsweetened coffee on the table before you.

Ew, you want to say, but somehow, “Thanks,” is what comes out of your mouth.

You reach for the cup, wincing slightly as you jerk your fingers back from the scalding exterior of the thin paper cup.

Zoro immediately leans down, snatching the cup from the table to blow on the surface. You watch him with wide, wondering eyes. It takes him a second to catch himself before he blushes a deep shade of maroon and clears his throat, quickly setting the cup back down on your desk, tucking both his hands into his pockets, looking anywhere but directly at you.

“It’s — careful — I mean — it’s from the vending machine downstairs so it’s not as fancy as the stuff we get from the coffee shop —”

Maybe it’s because you’re truly too tired, or maybe because Robin’s been right since day one but — you reach for the cup, carefully cradling it between your palms as you take a tentative sip and grimace at the watery, bitter aftertaste.

“Gross,” you say, though without any malice, glancing up at him. Zoro scoffs, dragging out an empty seat across from you, turning it around to straddle the chair, propping both his arms on the back as he looks at you. Your eyes once more catch on the way he’s gentler with his right side.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” you ask again, taking another tentative sip of the truly awful coffee.

Zoro grimaces, “None of your business.”

You sigh, the will to snark back rather feeble as you consider the mountain of vocab you have to memorize before your Friday test.

“Right, sure — keep your secrets,” you drone as you set the paper cup down and nudge it further away from you, “be mysterious for the next —” you check your watch, “eighteen hours before Practical Applications when you’ll have to explain to Coach Mihawk why you've been lying about an obvious injury three weeks before your next —”

“Fuck — okay.”

You pause, looking up from collecting your flash cards.

Zoro digs his fingers into his right shoulder.

“I — I think I pulled it at the tournament last week.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Your tournament was on Thursday.”

Zoro shifts uncomfortably, “And?”

“And it’s now Tuesday.”

Zoro doesn’t answer this time, but you have to actively fight down the urge to throw the no-longer-scalding-but-still-very-hot-coffee at his face. You tell yourself that the only thing stopping you is professionalism and sportsmanship instead of an unwillingness to damage his Michaelangelo-sculpted features.

“It’s been five days!”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to count.”

You bite back a frustrated scream as you push away from your chair and round the table to stand behind him, not giving him enough time to be bewildered before you press a palm to his right shoulder, already focused on finding the tender spots.

“Tell me where it hurts.”

You run an expert palm over the width of his shoulders, focusing on his right, fingers digging into various muscle groups until he winces.

“Ow.”

You grin as you find a tender patch to the right of his spine, almost beneath his shoulder blade.

“You strained your Rhomboid.”

“Gesundheit.”

You roll your eyes and reach over his back for the cup of coffee. You feel his breath hitch as your front presses full against his back.

“Hold still,” you say, pressing the side of the warm cup to the sore muscle.

Zoro makes a choked moaning noise that he tries to bite off, but not soon enough. It sizzles down your spine to curl at the base of your belly, spreading heat through your body in a way you have no urge to examine at this current point in time.

You hold it there for a minute, and then two, till the coffee’s gone lukewarm.

“Here,” you say, tugging the cup away to offer it to him.

He stares at the cup before glancing up at you.

“Caffeine helps with muscle soreness and pain — it’s probably why you’re so addicted to espresso all the time,” you offer by way of an explanation, even as he opens his mouth to ask. He closes his mouth and takes the coffee, downing half of it in a single gulp.

Then, he sets it down on the table before digging a crumpled packet of sugar out of his pants pocket.

“It’s… probably not as sweet as you usually like it but…” he presses it into the palm of your hand, looking anywhere but at your face, “should help the bitterness.”

And then he’s gone, slouching off towards the elevator bank, leaving you gaping after him with the packet of sugar in your hand, your rapidly cooling coffee, and a mountain of revisions you’ve got no hope of finishing tonight.

five.

Wednesday finds you practically sprinting as you reach your Practical Applications course, clutching at your chest as you burst through the gym doors, gasping for breath. Professor Kureha quirks an inquiring eyebrow at you while Mihawk, the fencing instructor, slates you a sharp, rueful glare.

“— as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” his bright hawk-yellow eyes flash back over the fencing team, “regionals are quickly approaching and we need you in top form. So — warm-ups stretches, everyone. Pair up and get to it. Zoro, up here with me.”

You duck your head and hurry towards your normal spot along the bleachers, slowing as you notice what looks like a cup of coffee from the Straw Hats Cafe occupying the place where you normally sit. You pick up the cup — it’s still hot to the touch.

On the coffee slip is a single word — Princess.

And though it’s in Sanji’s familiar coffee shop scrawl, only one person has ever called you that.

Heat crests up your chest, prickling at your cheeks. You don’t have to taste it to know that it’s your order — your favorite order. Briefly, you wonder if Sanji made Zoro recite the entire thing before agreeing to put it down, or if he’d spared Zoro the pain of having to say the word ‘decaf’ unironically.

And then you wonder if Nami teased him at all, waiting for his own drink on top of yours.

“Chop chop,” Professor Kureha says, grinning too wide as she wanders over, peering at you over her John Lennon shades, “you heard old Hawk-eyes — time to pair up.”

You hurriedly drop your bag and take a quick sip of our drink, letting out a soft groan of appreciation as the caramel-cinnamon goodness seeps into your blood vessels. Some nameless freshman hopeful from the fencing team is your partner for stretches and you patiently walk him through all the major motions, pushing on his back and laughing kindly when he can’t quite reach his toes.

You feel the faint tingle on the back of your neck that tells you someone’s staring, and you privately think that you don’t need three guesses to figure out who it is. But you don’t give Zoro the satisfaction of looking over till you help the blushing freshman finish all his stretches, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, reaching up on tip-toe to ruffle his hair even though he’s got a solid four inches over you.

When finally, you glance over towards where Mihawk is putting Zoro through his paces, it’s to find him flickering through the motions — flashes of silver, lithe, fluid — and you find your breath held captive in your chest by the sight.

You’ve always known Zoro to be a graceful fencer, but grace has nothing on the way he flows from one move to the next, each muscle drawn like a bow-string, each intake of breath timed and perfect. His arms and legs move in tandem and there’s a bewitching rhythm to the way his body breaks and bends. It is beauty and strength, dance and magic — power and promise and the sword-tip’s whish of premonition.

When he finishes, you suck in a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding.

You watch as Mihawk murmurs something to Zoro, who winces, looking chastened before Mihawk waves him away and Zoro sets down his epee, making his way over to you.

You open your mouth, about to make some snarky remark but Zoro reaches over his back with one hand and tugs his shirt off in a single, unbroken motion. You gulp, your voice failing you as your eyes settle on the strong ripple of his muscles as he tosses his shirt aside.

Zoro smirks, “Keep starin’ and I’m gonna have to start charging.”

You rip your eyes away, fire licking up the length of your torso as you reach into your bag for a roll of sports tape.

Zoro slumps down in the seat in front of you as you take stock of his sweat-slicked torso, your eyes still catching on the patch of swollen muscle beneath his shoulder blade. You reach forward and run a thumb along it, careful of the way he hisses.

“A hot-patch is only going to do so much,” you say, frowning as you drop the sports tape to focus on massaging the tender bit of skin.

Zoro groans, his eyes falling half shut as you slowly work at the various knots in his shoulders. Your fingers are slow and deliberate, applying just the right amount of pressure. And more than once, Zoro has to bite back what he’s sure would’ve been an indecent moan before it rolls out of his mouth at the way your soft palms press into the planes of his back, the tenseness of his shoulders.

“Keep moaning like that, I’m gonna have to start charging,” you say, much too close to his ear.

Zoro jerks, even as you pull back, laughing. The sound makes his skin prickle up with goosebumps and he doesn’t want to think about the myriad reasons why.

“I bought you coffee, twice,” he grumbles, cheeks pink, his mind still buzzing from the warmth of your palms.

You hum, your fingers flickering over his skin, pulling away for a second before he feels something wonderful and cool pressing against his sore, aching muscles.

“You’re right… you did buy me coffee twice. Even though the first time was horrible vending machine coffee and I used most of it as a heating pad for your injury.”

Zoro grunts, letting you manhandle him as you gently twist his right arm into an array of different stretches to test his range of mobility.

“Still counts.”

You put down his right arm to test his left. Zoro chooses not to think about the way his body tingles where your hands touch him, and especially not where you’re standing too close, your chest occasionally brushing against his shoulder. He chooses actively not to think about the way he can smell the soft, coconut milk fragrance of your lotion as you lean over him, rambling about doing the proper warm-up and cool-down exercises.

He grins as you reach over mid-sentence to finish your drink and you pause, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

He shrugs, “Nothin’… just that… seems like you liked your drink.”

Your eyes slingshot from his face to the nearly empty cup in your hands.

“I always like my —”

They widen when you realize that Zoro had in fact ordered a double shot of espresso in your usual drink instead of your normal decaf. And, that you’d been too distracted by him to notice.

“I — it — wh —”

Zoro languidly rises from his seat, grinning, “Thanks for the treatment, Princess. I owe you one — lemme buy you a coffee sometime, yeah?”

You stare after him as he makes his way across the room, back to the rest of the team for proper bouts. You force down another blush as you shove the now-empty coffee cup into the nearest trash can, your heart skidding to the rhythmic squeak of feet shuffling against the floors, the bell-like ting of epee blades, the murmur of the watching crowd.

six.

Thursday morning finds you ill-rested and grumpy as you join Robin in the quad, heading for the Straw Hats Cafe during free period.

“Trouble sleeping?” Robin asks, looking you over with mild concern.

You grunt, adjusting your bag, “Had coffee too late in the day.”

At this, Robin frowns, “But you only drink decaf.”

You grunt again, not looking at her, “Yeah, well.”

Robin blinks for a second before a knowing smile splits her lips, “Ah… so. Fencer-boy’s made his move.”

You round on her, fists clenched, “He has not! He just — he just bought me coffee!”

Robin remains infuriatingly unfazed as she stares at you, “Yes. And to most, that would constitute as ‘making a move’. And here I thought you were a fan of romance novels.”

You turn away from her, huffing even as your cheeks fill with color, “I — I am.”

“So?” she asks.

“So?” you echo, cursing yourself for sounding like a petulant child.

“So…” she continues, patient as always, “he bought you coffee.”

You crinkle your nose, your stomach a roiling mess as the pair of you make your way across the quad and duck into the cafe to Sanji’s bright, welcoming voice, your eyes scanning the queue even though you know that Zoro’s got morning practice. This does not go unnoticed by Robin, though she mercifully elects to not question you about it.

“Yes, he bought me coffee. But instead of decaf, he made it a double-shot.” You try very hard to make this sound like a personal affront, but Robin only dips her head.

“Ah,” she says again, and you feel the urge to run out of the building even as the pair of you shuffle towards the front of the line.

“Hi there, oh! I’ve got a special message for you,” Nami says as you get to the registers, her voice silken with glee as she reaches behind the counter to tug out what looks like a receipt. You glance down at the paper, confused, but she only winks as she moves to ask what Robin would like.

You inch to the side, distracted by this strange turn, your eyes dropping to the slip of paper, upon which is scribbled — Good luck on test tomorrow. Evening bout. Gym.

You stare at the cryptic message for a full minute before Robin ushers you toward the counter where Sanji is pumping out drinks, making girls blush as he winks at them each in turn.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite Decaf Princess — though… seems like your tastes are a-changin’ these days,” Sanji says, grinning wide as you get to the counter, pushing a steaming cup towards you. You frown at the drink — cinnamon sprinkled atop a perfectly placed dollop of whipped cream, underneath which you’re sure is your favorite drink order. You look back up at Sanji.

“A certain mosshead jock put in an advanced order for you — said to give you an extra shot of espresso for the test you’ve got tomorrow.”

You sputter as Robin laughs beside you, thanking Sanji for her own Long Black.

“You know, you could just be normal and call it an Americano,” you say as the pair of you make your way out of the cafe. Robin grins, sipping at her drink.

“I could… but where’s the fun in that?” she slates you a glance, “More importantly, are you going?”

“To what?” you ask, not meaning to sound so defensive, but you can’t help it, and even as Robin sighs, you know that it’s useless.

“To the bout,” she says, unruffled.

You hunch into your upturned collar and your thick, layered scarf, cradling your drink, the sweet scent of syrup and cinnamon wafting up to tickle your nose. You blush at the thought of Zoro’s voice, full of morning gravel, shy as he lists out all the extremities you like in your coffee order.

“Maybe. I mean… why not, right?”

Robin nods, humming as she takes another long drink, “Mhm — why not indeed.”

You nudge her; she nudges you back. You both laugh as a church bell rings out from across the quad, sending a flock of birds scattering through the misty, morning air.

seven.

Friday evening finds you pushing through the wide gym doors, pressing your hands over the skirt you’d painstakingly picked out, chewing on your bottom lip.

You silently curse at Robin for pulling out last minute, begging off to some Ancient Languages focus group.

“I bet it’s not even real…” you mutter to yourself as you slip into the front row of the bleachers, looking for an empty seat. You somehow manage to look up just as Zoro is about to go on, his mask under one arm, his blade in the other.

You raise your hand in a half wave before catching yourself and shoving it back down, scowling as Zoro’s lips pull into a lopsided grin. You drop into a seat just as Zoro tugs his helmet on and stretches his arms. You tense as you see the slight wince he twitches away as he tests the weight of his blade.

But you needn’t have worried — the bout is quick and decisive, Zoro scoring one point after another, his blade flashing through the air, bright as fish scales. And before you know it, the buzzer sounds, marking his victory. You leap to your feet, cheering with the rest of the crowd as Zoro tugs off his mask and pumps his fists.

You catch his eye and for a moment, the wild rumble of the screaming crowd fades to a dull, thumping baseline. He jerks his head towards the lockers and you nod, swallowing hard as you duck through the still-cheering crowd towards the back of the gym.

When you get there, it’s to find him methodically polishing his blade, his mask set to the side, his thick jacket pulled down to pool around his waist, the rest of his protective wear scattered in heaps on the ground around him. You have half a mind to scold him for being so careless with what you know is expensive gear but you can’t keep yourself from staring at the wide planes of back, curving up to his shoulders, the thick cords of muscle that flex up either side of his neck.

He looks up as you shuffle in, your skirt suddenly feeling a bit too short, too risque for the near-winter weather outside.

You clear your throat and cast your eyes about the empty lockers. You don’t miss the way his gaze skates up your bare legs, pausing at the place where your skirt brushes the top of your thighs.

“Uhm — how’s your shoulder?” your voice sounds too high, echoing strangely along the white-tiled walls.

Zoro licks his lips and puts down his blade, rolling his right shoulder.

“Better but… still not great. Mihawk’s making me to do PT.”

You nod, letting out a soft laugh, “I’m glad. You’d never do it otherwise.”

He scoffs, “You know what that means though, right?” There’s a raw, rolling tension beneath his words, a sort of thickened expectation as he stares at you with dark, meaningful eyes.

You purse your lips, your stomach tightening.

“I —”

Zoro gets to his feet, and you barely register the soft clatter of his blade as it rolls to the side on the bench. He closes the space between you in three quick steps and you find yourself marveling at his speed — wondering vaguely if this is how all his opponents feel when he slips forward, the tip of his blade digging into their shoulder or stomach or the bend of their hip.

“Means we’re stuck with each other. At least till you fix me for regionals in two weeks.”

Your back meets the icy chill of the locker doors and the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them —

“Bold of you to assume that you’re fixable in two weeks.”

Zoro quirks an eyebrow, even as you resist the urge to clap your hands to your mouth, cursing inwardly at whatever the hell made you say that out loud. Your heart thuds an insistent drumbeat inside your chest as Zoro leans casually against the lockers next to you. Like this, you can feel the heat of his skin, the rhythm of his long breaths as he looks you over with sharp, curious eyes.

You think you can taste the sweet, tepid weight of his breath. It smells faintly of coffee and mint and synthetically flavored protein bars.

“Then…” he drawls, propping an arm against the locker door right next to your face, his eyes flickering from your lips up to your eyes and back down again. Your gaze is unabashedly caught on the shape of his mouth, but when you finally force yourself to look up at his eyes, it’s to find them warm and amused.

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

You gulp, “To fix your shoulder?”

Zoro shrugs, “That and… whatever else you think needs to be fixed.”

You purse your lips, an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies erupting in your stomach at his words.

“Who knows? Might take three weeks… might take — forever —” your words cut off as he leans in to graze his lips against yours. And you’re momentarily caught between delight and bewilderment that you’re right — they do taste of coffee and mint and salt — but that they also taste of a dull, throbbing hunger as he leans in to kiss you proper. And then, the blooming realization that you’re just as desperate as he is, pushing in, fingers scrabbling against the skin of his chest as his skim along the sides of your ribs, the dip of your waist.

He kisses you so deep and so long that you’re actually gasping when he finally pulls away to suck a stinging hickey into the smooth of your collarbone, his fingers digging grooves into your thighs as he hoists you up to press you against the cold, hard metal of the lockers.

You let out a clipped moan at the same time he does, and his right arm twitches, though he makes no move to let you go.

Distantly, your mind registers the fact that he’s still technically injured, but the part of you that’s hungry and clawing at the base of your stomach with a fierce, immutable need refuses to listen to reason. It takes more effort than it logically should’ve done to extricate yourself from his grasp, to push him away despite his disgruntled sigh as he stumbles back and stares at you with dark, dangerous eyes.

“What —”

“Fuck —” you hiss, even as you let your head fall back against the lockers, the dull thunk pulling a wolfish grin to his lips.

“Yeah, well —”

“Wait — no —”

Zoro cocks his head, “No?”

You reach forward to tug him back, to kiss him as deeply and desperately as you dare, but you pull away before he can properly sink into the kiss and you pin him with a look.

“We — your shoulder —”

“Fuck my shoulder —”

You shake your head, almost delusional with the heat and want and the insanity of it all, “No! We can’t! We — we’ve gotta take care of it first!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, “It’ll get better if we just leave it alone —”

You shake your head again, laughing as he presses back in, slower this time, grazing his knuckles along the skin of your jaw, tilting you back towards him.

“It won’t,” you say, softly, letting him run a thumb along your lips, “but… if you let me take care of it. It will heal faster…” you trail off, letting the implications simmer beneath the surface of all your unsaid words, and it only takes a second for Zoro to consider before he lowers you to the floor and starts haphazardly gathering up his things.

You drag a hand across your lips, watching him.

“So…” you feel yourself blush as you muster up the words but Zoro scoffs, already impatient as he shoves his stuff into one of the larger lockers and slams the door.

“Mine. It’s closer.”

eight.

His, is — in fact — much closer than you’d thought. Only two blocks from the campus, and in one of the most expensive dorm buildings. You wonder how much he must be paying for it before you realize that he's on a sports scholarship, but you can’t even bring yourself to be bitter as he lets you into his spacious dorm, the giant living room scattered with game consoles and opened cereal boxes, leading to a short hallway that opens into his bedroom.

It’s cleaner than you’d imagined, with a set of light green linens drawn neatly over a full-sized bed, and two sets of pillows.

“Sorry for the mess,” he says, sweeping some energy bar wrappers into the trash from his desk as he tosses down his duffle bag.

You shake your head, looking around, your eyes catching on the thick volumes of fencing books, the endless stacks of sports magazines, the huge set of free weights on a rack in the corner by the closet.

“Uh… do you want a drink?” he asks, suddenly awkward as he scratches at the back of his head.

You turn towards him with a grin, “No. But I do want you to take off your shirt.”

Zoro blinks before he smiles and moves towards the bed, tugging off his shirt and tossing it to the side. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as he leans back on the bed, his perfectly tanned stomach flexing beneath the slanted desk-light as he watches you through lazily hooded eyes.

“On your stomach,” you say, your voice light and surgical as you open your own bag and tug out a tub of medicated massage cream.

Zoro stares for a second before the smile slips off his face to be replaced by a dull, knowing scowl. Still, he doesn’t argue as he flips onto his stomach and sighs, pillowing his cheek on his arms as he pouts at the wall.

“Like I told you — we need to take care of your shoulder first. Regionals are in two weeks. We can’t have you performing like you did tonight.”

Zoro attempts a glare over his shoulder as you carefully maneuver over his back and straddle his hips, warming your palms with the massage cream before setting to work.

“I still won.”

His voice is tight and petulant. You nod, sighing as you work your thumbs into the dip beneath his shoulder blade where you know he’s still sore. He hisses, jerking away from you. You pin him in place with your free arm and continue to roll your thumb across the bundle of muscle.

Two minutes in, you press a bit harder and he lets out a pitched whine that makes you pause in your ministrations.

“F-fuck —” he buries his face in his pillow, thumping a fist against his bed as you laugh and continue the massage, though taking care to be a bit more careful around his injury.

Nearly twenty minutes later, you climb off the bed and wipe your hands. Zoro groans, shifting to watch you with half-lidded eyes and color-stained cheeks.

“I know,” you say, holding up your hands, “that really hurt but you feel much better now, right?”

Zoro grins, sleepy as he blinks slowly up at you, “Yeah. Whatever.”

And then, a long moment later —

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft, flipping onto his side and shifting on the bed as if to make room for you, “stay.”

You freeze, almost unwilling to believe your own ears as you finish putting away your supplies. You glance at him with tight lips and hopeful eyes.

There’s a tiny grin threatening the corners of his lips as he sighs, making a show of yawning and stretching.

“It’s late… and I don’t really feel like walking you back.”

You fold your arms, “I could just call campus security to escort me.”

Zoro stills for a second but a moment later, he casts his eyes up at the ceiling, “Yeah… you could…”

You make no move to leave.

“But you still owe me coffee in the morning,” he says.

You frown, “Wait, what? How’s that?”

He glances at you, “I’ve bought you coffee twice.”

“Yeah, but I just gave you a free 30-minute medical massage treatment for your shoulder.”

“You would’ve had to do it anyway on Wednesday in Practical Applications.”

You narrow your eyes, “Professor Kureha might not have assigned me to you.”

At this, Zoro scoffs, “Yeah right. You’re the best, and so am I.”

“S-she might not have!” you say, though there’s no real conviction in your voice. You both know that he’s right.

“Yeah. Whatever.” He turns away from you, making as if to go to sleep.

You glare at his back, dropping your bag with a loud thump.

“If anything, you owe me coffee now. That massage was worth at least two coffees, if not more.” You plop down on the edge of his bed, scowling at the opposite wall.

Zoro is quiet for a beat too long and you chance a glance at him, only to find him peering you with a strangely indulgent look in his eyes. You blush, tearing your eyes away.

“How’s breakfast?” he asks, his voice once again going soft. Your skin prickles with heat.

“What about breakfast?”

“Coffee and breakfast. That enough to pay for the massage?”

You can’t help the smile that threatens to break across your lips as you glance back at him and catch his eyes.

“I…. guess.”

Zoro chuckles, the sound so low in his throat that it makes you shiver. Quick as anything, he reaches over to pull you down towards him, easily looping an arm around your middle and flipping you both so that you’re pinned beneath him. You barely have time to gasp before you find his lips on yours once more, slow and sweet and shockingly steady.

You kiss him back, letting him push you gently into the crumpled linens of his bed. His fingers are light as he slowly works your skirt down your legs, reaching behind your torso to loosen your bra and tug your shirt from you in a single, smooth motion.

You shiver beneath him and he pulls back to stare. You search his eyes, feeling suddenly uncertain.

“God, you’re gorgeous…”

Heat crests into your cheeks as you try to look away. But he tugs you back with his thumb and steals another kiss.

“It’s late…” he says, pulling away to press your foreheads.

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip. “Yeah, I know…”

“Let’s sleep in tomorrow.”

You laugh, shifting as he curls his body around you, tugging you easily against his chest and pulling the covers over you both. A moment later, the lights click off and you’re both thrown into darkness. You let yourself relax into his arms, wondering just how you’re going to explain this to Robin tomorrow.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Zoro’s voice murmurs into the nape of your neck.

You grin, nodding as you press further back into him and he grazes a soft kiss along your skin.

“That kinda thinking needs breakfast and coffee first,” you say, to which Zoro chuckles, nodding as he lets you hook your ankles between his, your bodies settling against each other, warm and perfect, the curves and bends meeting like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally, finally finding each other at last.

You don’t have long enough to ponder on the light, musk-salt-sweet of his skin or the way you can feel his heartbeat as it threads along your spine or the way that somehow, the shape of him doesn’t feel foreign against the shape of you, before you’re already falling asleep. And to him, he doesn’t have time to ponder the lovely silk of your hair, just as soft as he’d always imagined, or the way your waist feels perfect beneath his hands, or how he’s somehow he’s always known the rhythm of your breaths before he too is falling into the warm embrace of a dark, sweet, restful sleep as well.

nine.

Saturday morning finds you both tangled in each other, the winter sun bright and cold as it slates through the slits of Zoro’s bedroom window. He wakes up first, shifting to stretch until he feels the weight of you beside him. And then suddenly, he's somehow achingly awake and aware of his body against yours, of your paced breaths and his own rapidly increasing heartbeat. For one bewildering moment, he can’t quite remember what brought him here, and then the scenes from the night before — the bout, the lockers, the kiss — the way you’d tasted, how utterly irresistible you’d been, blushing in the dim light of his room, your skillful fingers digging into his tender, swollen flesh — his own rash promise of breakfast and coffee — it all comes rushing back. Zoro lets out a long breath and leans in to brush his lips along your forehead.

You let out a light groan as you shift in his arms, and when you turn, it’s to find him watching you.

“Oh… hey.”

Your voice is quiet, almost shy as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, and he finds himself more endeared than he has words to say.

He clears his throat.

“Morning. Uh… sleep well?”

You laugh, the warmth of your expelled breath ghosting across his clavicle in a way that makes him shiver.

“Mhm… pretty well… and you?”

Zoro clears his throat, “Yeah. Guess it wasn’t… bad.”

He resists the urge to roll away, if only because your cheek is still pillowed on his arm, and he can’t bring himself to pull away from you just yet. So instead, he drops his nose into your hair and takes in the milky scent of your coconut lotion. Tiny, pin-pricks of desire shoot through him, teasing goosebumps into the skin of his back and arms, but he forces himself to lie still as you snuggle against his chest with a contented sigh.

“So… breakfast and coffee?”

Zoro grunts, “Hn. I did promise.”

You smile, letting yourself sink into the thick and syrup of his sleep-deepened voice, his moss-green hair even more tousled than it normally is as he adjusts his head on his pillow.

“Hey,” you say, breathless as you look up at him beneath the sweep of your lashes, your eyes so big and dark and wide Zoro wonders if they might swallow him whole.

“Hey,” he answers, just as breathless, uncertainty creeping up the center of his chest as he stares down at you, lying in the glistening, mercurial light, the bend of your shoulder kissed by the morning sun, the shape of you limned in silver and gold.

You lean up to kiss him before he has the chance to second-guess himself, and though he was the more bold, self-assured one last night, you press in against him this morning, the languid sweep of your tongue along his lips making him groan, helpless, against you. He tastes the satisfied grin at the corner of your mouth as he opens his own, his mind frizzing into gorgeous, white static as you spend what feels like hours exploring the sweet depths of each other's mouths — all tongue and teeth and kiss-swollen lips.

When finally you pull apart, he is more breathless than he’d planned for, his body too warm for his liking, an urgent, pulsing something burning at the base of his stomach as he fights the urge to shove you back and sink his teeth into your skin, to hear you hiss, to make you gasp, to leave the indent of his fingers along the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, to mark you as his in every way he knows how.

But instead, he places a lingering kiss on your cheek and sits up, slowly stretching his arms.

“Careful…” you warn, pushing yourself up as well, watching him, “how’s it feel?”

Zoro tests his right side, drawing his arm up and then to the side, and then pulling it across his torso.

“Whoa… so much better.”

You smile, satisfied.

Zoro chuckles, “Guess I really do owe you breakfast. C’mon.”

He slips out of bed, tugging open a drawer to toss you a thick sweater and a pair of sweatpants. For himself, he only tugs on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, even as you frown, squinting at him from where you’re nearly swimming in his clothes.

“You’ll freeze.”

Zoro smirks as he looks you over, reaching over to pull the hood over your mussed tangle of hair, “Nah, I’m fine.”

You pout, jerking open the drawer to pull out a sweater and tossing it at him.

“You have to keep your right side warm so your muscles don’t just seize up again.”

Zoro stares at the sweater in his hand, looking reluctant before you press your lips into an exaggerated pout.

“C’mon… I worked so hard on getting it better last night… please?”

Zoro groans, rolling his eyes as he tugs on the sweater.

“Yeah, yeah — fine. Let’s go.”

He doesn’t wait for you, nor does he extend his hand. But the pair of you walk elbow to elbow, hip against hip down the bright dorm room hallway, into the chilly Saturday morning air.

“Geez, if you’re gonna yell at me to keep warm —” Zoro reaches over to tug on the drawstrings of your sweater, frowning as he notices how much skin he can still see beneath the opening of the hoodie.

You blush, tugging at it as the pair of you make your way across the empty campus quad.

Halfway across the frost-kissed lawn, he wordlessly reaches out to catch your hand in his, tucking your entwined fingers into the depths of his pocket. You bite back a stupid, dopey grin as you duck your head, quickening your pace to keep up, your footsteps crunching in the dew-bitten grass, the freshly raked gravel.

ten.

There’s already a decent line at the Straw Hats Cafe, but when the pair of you walk in hand in hand, both Sanji and Nami pause for a second longer than usual. Sanji’s eyebrows jerk up his forehead while Nami’s lips curl into a much too satisfied grin as she turns back to the humming espresso machines.

You savor in the smell of freshly ground coffee, absently tracing your thumb over the back of Zoro’s hand.

When you both reach the front, Sanji looks between you expectantly.

“Well, well, well — I’d like to say I’m surprised but —” he shrugs, grinning cheekily, “Well then I’d be lying, wouldn’t I?”

Zoro clicks his tongue but you shoot him a sheepish smile, pursing your lips.

“So… the usual then?” Sanji asks, his fingers poised over the register.

“Yep,” Zoro says, curt as ever, though there’s a distinct blush on his cheeks that not even he can write off as anything else.

You nod as well, “Oh, but… I think I’ll try a non-decaf latte this time. Just one shot of espresso though, please and thank you.”

Sanji blinks at you for a second before letting out a startled laugh and nodding, punching in your order.

“Coming right up, sweet cheeks. Right then, that’d be 8.75 for the latte and 5.50 for the double espresso.”

Zoro reaches into his wallet and pulls out a 20, slipping it across the counter. Down the bar, Nami is humming, looking cheerier than you’ve ever seen her this early in the morning as she goes about making your drinks.

Sanji sighs as he shakes his head, handing Zoro his change.

Zoro narrows his eyes but Sanji cuts him off.

“Take it from me, fam. You don’t wanna know.”

You and Zoro share a puzzled look as you both shuffle down to the pick-up counter, where Nami is sliding your finished drinks toward you with a bright, knowing glint to her eyes. Zoro clears his throat and reaches over for a packet of sugar, nonchalantly tipping it into his drink before picking it up to take a sip.

You try not to gape as you grab your own drink, flashing Nami a quick smile before turning to follow Zoro.

He picks a table as far away from the counter as possible, tucked into a corner, nearly invisible to the rest of the shop. When you sit down, he frowns at your chair for a second before reaching out to tug you across the floor till your chair is next to his. He goes back to his drink without a single word.

It’s all you can do to blush and stare at your steaming cup.

“I thought we were getting coffee and breakfast,” you say after a brief moment of silence.

Zoro grunts, “We are. Coffee first.”

You nod, somewhat mollified as you take another sip of your drink. The warmth trickles down your chest to rest somewhere in the center of your stomach, spreading heat throughout your body in waves.

“We could just get a chocolate croissant,” you say, giving Zoro a sidelong look.

Zoro frowns, tapping his finger against the side of his cup, “Dessert isn’t breakfast.”

You scoff, “Says who?”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Says me. And I’m payin’ for it.”

You purse your lips, wondering if you should argue more before deciding against it. A few seconds later, Zoro sighs, casting his eyes about the cafe interior.

“We can have a croissant after real breakfast.”

You giggle into your drink, swallowing down the glee fluttering in your stomach, threatening to spill out of your still kiss-chapped lips.

“Kay, whatever you say.”

Zoro rolls his eyes and folds his arms, but his elbow presses against yours and he doesn’t make to move away.

Across the cafe, Nami leans to watch the pair of you, Sanji at her side, looking both stunned and somewhat pained.

“C’mon man, it’s not even been a week!”

Nami grins, rinsing out a few cups and placing them mouth down to dry before pivoting on her heels and holding out an expectant palm. Sanji sighs as Nami’s eyes glitter with mirth and a hard-won glee.

“Right. I think you owe me fifty bucks.”

Sanji narrows his eyes, glancing back at where you and Zoro are tucked into the corner of the cafe.

“Double or nothing on when they’ll have their first fight. I say… not till next week.”

Nami’s eyebrows twitch up. She looks back at where the pair of you are now bickering over where to have breakfast. A smirk teases at her lips.

She puts down her hand, “Alright then… but like I said — it’s your funeral, Sanji.”

Over in the corner, there’s the dull scrape of chair legs as you push yourself away from the table to fold your arms.

“— Belgian waffles are absolutely an acceptable meal for breakfast!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, though there’s still an amused spark behind his eyes.

“Breakfast without eggs ain’t real breakfast. And doesn’t count if it’s smothered in syrup either.”

You make an indignant noise, frowning even as Zoro tugs you back to press a napkin to your upper lip, where there’s a faint line of whipped cream residue.

Sanji backpedals immediately, “Uh — right so, I feel like we need to define what really constitutes a ‘fight’, yeah?”

Nami tuts, shaking her head, “Nope! A bet’s a bet. Now pay up.”

feedback always welcome :) reqs are closed.

[written-in-flowers]

Let's Misbehave: Hyunjin x Male!Reader

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Male!Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff | AU: idol!verse, ninth member!au

Word Count: 7k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Summary: You and Hyunjin get a bit too handsy after champagne during fashion week. Insatiable lust leads to more than either of you expected for the night.

Disclaimer: These works are completely fictitious and for entertainment purposes only. They are not meant to reflect or label the members of Stray Kids in any way. The events within never took place. Thank you.

Tags: polyamory, idol!reader, tipsy sex (kind of), drinking, mentions of social anxiety (vaguely), bath sex, car stuff, mirror sex, cum eating, anal licking/rimming, blowjobs, anal sex, anal fingering, multiple creampies, multiple orgasms, multiple positions/places, hyunjin being a playful tease, bottom!hyunjin, top!reader, exhibitionism (they film some of it), stray kids once again being a bunch of sluts (haha),

Here's What You Missed on Newbie!

Next on Newbie!

taglist: @belladonna-6-6-6 @james-is-here @onementally-unstabel-kid @omg-lexiloveyou @drinkingrumandcocacola @himiko-shoji @ang3lzfelixx (let me know in the comments/replies if you want to be tagged for the next one!)

****

“Are you guys, you know, dating?” 

You heard the question more than you’d anticipated throughout the night. You and Hyunjin showed up to Milan fashion week together since you both represented different clothing lines. It was heavily mentioned that you came from the same Kpop group, and were good friends. However, strangers who’d met you thought you might be more than that. One celebrity claimed she’d keep it between you two if you were, since she said loads of people were “in the closet”. But, you assured her that you and Hyunjin had nothing going on. 

Hyunjin did not help in making it believable.

“Come on, this isn’t like home,” he said to you as you took seats beside the catwalk. “We can be a bit more touchy than normal.” His fingers walked up your thigh, and he grinned, “Unless you don’t like it?”

“You know I don’t mind it, but Hyunjin,” you glanced around at the dozens of cameras and paparazzi snapping photos, “We’re being watched by a lot of people. They might see something and get the wrong idea, then we’d get in trouble with management.”

“Is it wrong to say I don’t care?” he said, linking his arm around yours like friends might do. “I like being close to you, hyung. It makes me feel safe. We’re around so many new people, and it’s kind of…” 

The flirtation melted away as he stared at the crowds and cameras with you. “Scary?” you suggested, knowing exactly how he felt. 

“Yeah. Without the other members around, it’s weird,” he explained. “Channie-hyung and Felix always did the interviews and the talking because they’re fluent in English. I know some but, like, my brain freezes for a second trying to find the right words to make the sentence. I’m so used to having the other guys right there…I’m glad it’s you that came,” he rested his chin on your shoulder, “You’re better at it than me.”

“Am not. One of us has to talk,” you said in a soft laugh, nerves bubbling up inside you as the show began. 

“People really like you,” he said close to your ear. No sultry tone or flirtatious eyes, but genuine admiration. “You have that certain something that draws them to you. People have been talking to you since we got here. Freaking Anne Hathaway told you that you looked gorgeous!”

“She said you looked good too.”

“She said it to you first. You need to start realizing how impactful you are, hyung.”

“Impactful?” you laughed at the thought. “Hardly.”

“You make people feel a particular way, and they like it.” His fingers walked up your knee, and your entire body burned. You stared around nervously, “I can show you how you impact me later, if you want, after the party. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since comeback night. It felt so good-”

“-The show’s starting,” you interrupted him, earning a laugh instead of a scoff. 

It’d been like something out of a dream when the fashion director of Dior contacted you a few weeks ago. Francine, the lead designer, said you’d make the perfect model for their new menswear concept. Your fans went wild over the photos you took for the company, wearing everything from casual wear to fancy suits and jewelry. A few promotional videos later, they sent you an invitation to participate in Milan’s fashion week. You never expected yourself to be decked out in official fashion designer clothes, walking down red carpets and meeting famous celebrities. The glitz and glamor of the elite made your eyes sparkle, and you became nearly blind to everything at first. It was made better when Hyunjin said he’d be going to represent Versace. 

‘We can be each other’s dates!’ he’d beamed, happy to know he wasn’t going alone. 

As expected, Hyunjin looked breathtaking at each event. His long black hair gelled back from his face, the black outfit Donatella Versace put him in made him stand out in a crowd of supermodels. You couldn’t get over his flawless appearance, and how the outfit framed his body. How could you focus on anyone else when the most gorgeous person in the room is right beside you?

The outfits going past you kept you entranced the whole night. You couldn’t help seeing yourself on the catwalk, showing off Dior’s newest outfits and having the entire room’s attention. The idea scared and intrigued you. You had no idea what Hyunjin meant by you being ‘impactful’. You were a kid from Busan who wanted to sing and dance. You never expected to debut, and definitely never expected to be sitting in Milan beside one of the most beautiful people you know. Realizing how many celebrities recognized you, and how many more wanted to know you, amazed you. You were sitting beside Anne Hathaway, star of one of your favorite movie franchises: The Princess Diaries. You talked to A$AP Rocky, a rapper you’d admired for a while, and you met the incomparable Donatella Versace. 

She’d told you if she could have two ambassadors, she would!

The show ended in tremendous applause, and you and Hyunjin walked back outside to the cameras and reporters. The two of you followed the crowds into another room where they served drinks, food and played music. 

“I’ve never been good at parties,” you admitted to Hyunjin as he handed you a glass of champagne. “I didn’t go to many of them as a kid.”

“Well, that’s what this is for,” he said, clinking his glass with yours, “Liquid fun. It’s been helping introverts at parties since the beginning of time.” 

Taking sips of the expensive champagne, the two of you were taken around the room by your separate escorts. You met more famous people, took photos with them and talked. This could not really be happening. You’d bumped into a famous artist whose paintings Hyunjin introduced you to recently, and another actress whose works you’d followed for years. They all appeared down to earth like you, but the fact that you even talked to them made you giddy. The champagne left you feel loose and light, though not sloppy or slurred. You knew your limits. 

“Dance with me,” Hyunjin said, smiling lopsidedly and pulling you to the dance floor. 

“I…I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Jinnie,” you answered, heat rising in your cheeks. Too many people. Too many eyes. Even with the alcohol in your system, you knew better. 

“Come on,” he pleaded, taking you closer to the dance floor, “Let’s be naughty for a bit.” He winked, and you thought you might die. 

“Your definition of ‘naughty’ is way different than mine.”

“I know,” he giggled, finally getting to the crowded dance floor. 

You shouldn’t, but you blame the alcohol and Hyunjin’s beautiful face for making you move with him. You yearned for his touch, his closeness. Brief flashes of skin whenever Hyunjin moved tempted you. Seeing his plump lips, glossy and champagne-flavored looked so inviting and kissable. Why and how did he have this effect on you? 

“You can be closer,” he said, getting within inches of you. “If anyone says anything, we’ll say the floor was crowded and we couldn’t help it.” He put his hand on your chest, sliding it to your belt, “That I couldn’t help it.”

“If you don’t stop right now,” you warned, though your laugh made it less serious. 

“What? You’ll spank me?” he challenged with a smirk. “I like being spanked.” 

In the dimness of the room, surrounded by other couples and dancers, you brought him close by the waist. 

“You want to be naughty? Then let’s be naughty,” you said, moving to the music with him. 

“I like tipsy YN,” he said, moving his hips with yours. “He’s hot.” 

“How can I keep my hands to myself when you’re being such a tease?”

He leaned inches into you, “Don’t keep them to yourself, then. Touch me,” he whispered, lips on your ear as your bodies swayed to the music, “I love having your hands on me. You know exactly where to touch to get me worked up.”

Yes, you did. You’d seen him and Changbin together enough to know by now. They enjoyed sending pictures and videos to the group chat occasionally. The two of you danced together; not too close, but enough that your hands didn't leave his torso for too long. You let your hands glide up and down Hyunjin’s sides, feeling down to his tiny waist. The longer you touched him, the more heated the both of you became. The champagne hit you when you took up a second glass. Hyunjin laughed at you being a lightweight, but you almost told him it wasn’t the drinks making you so bubbly. Everything inside you screamed to take him to a dark corner, yet you stayed on the dance floor. 

“Hyung,” he breathed in your ear after a few songs, “Take me back to the hotel. The tub in my room is made for fucking.”

You groaned, the music drowning it out so nobody else heard you. You took his hand and led him through the room. Finding your manager by the door, you told him you and Hyunjin wanted to go. Clearly, he didn’t see you two on the dance floor, since you received no scolding or knowing looks. You said your goodbyes, then made your way into the car. 

“Come here, pretty.”

The partition between you and the driver up, you didn’t hesitate to kiss Hyunjin. His lips felt as soft as they always did. You cupped his cheek, feeling the warmth on your palm, as you deepened your kiss. His hand sliding across your lap, he lightly grazed your crotch and gave it a gentle squeeze. Your body never yearned for touch so badly before. You needed him against you, touching and kissing you. All the clothes separating you needed to come off, so you could take in every inch of Hwang Hyunjin.

“Hyung,” he laughed as you kissed down his neck, “I love it when you’re needy.”

You planted kisses wherever his jacket allowed, giving soft sucks and bites to the tender parts. His hand stayed on your groin, but he mostly let you take the lead. The intoxicating champagne and Hyunjin’s warmth made you feel dizzy and light headed. All you could focus on was his slim body underneath your hands, the muscles tensing at your touch. He carefully rubbed the outline of your dick pressing to your pants lightly, casually going over the round tip before going back down. Taking advantage of the long drive, you pushed him into a corner of the car and started kissing down his body. The phantom feeling of his hand on your cock stayed with you, as if he was somehow still doing it. Kissing him deeply, you started groping the bulge forming in his tight pants. When the car stopped, Hyunjin grinned as he pulled away from you.

“Your room or mine?”

“Yours. I want to see this tub you mentioned.”

Climbing out of the car, you walked through the lobby together. With only your managers following you, neither of you felt shy enough to keep away from one another. You each put your arm around each other’s waist and walked to the elevator. The staff let you both go up alone, which you never felt more excited about. Instantly, your lips found him again. Pressing him to the wall, you knew you didn’t have much time. Normally, you and the members kept the touching to a minimum in public. Simple back hugs, close proximity and fake flirting were as close to physical affection as you could take it. Some fans still made their interpretations, going far enough to ship you all together, but nothing concrete. Yet right now, in this steel box, you’d risk it all if it meant getting to kiss Hyunjin. Hands going up underneath his jacket, you felt the lace and satin shirt he wore. Another irritating barrier. Hyunjin moaned against your lips, pushing up against you while he did the same. The satin floral shirt you wore became an annoying obstacle you both had to overcome. Eventually, the elevator reached your floor, and Hyunjin led you down the hall. Removing his jacket, he teasingly threw it at you as he untucked the shirt. It looked good on him. Your eyes locked on how the fabric looked against his skin and shaped out his silhouette.

God, he was beautiful.

You reached his door, and you watched him fumble for his room key. Once you stepped inside, you brought him back into your arms. Clumsily kicking off your shoes, you each took turns removing pieces of one another’s outfits. Every removal stoked your eagerness for him. The moment you stood naked in his room, you observed the lines and muscles of his body. You followed them down to his cock hanging between his thighs. Barely hard, you still enjoyed the sight of it. You gently took it in your hand for several long strokes that made him whimper in your ear. 

“It's so nice,” you said to him, looking downwards. “I could play with this for hours.”

“Yours is nicer,” he replied, grabbing your dick next. You groaned at the sudden contact of his cold fingers against your hot skin. “It's so big. I thought it might rip me open when you first put it in me.”

“It’s not that big,” you laughed, “Why does everyone say that?”

“Because it is,” he said in a low voice, giving it a soft squeeze, “You're almost as big as Chan…” he gave you a lingering kiss, “Getting fucked by both of you would be heaven. I don't think my ass would ever be the same.”

Your cheeks actually burned. Hyunjin  kissed down your neck, giving your collarbone a soft peck before going further down. “I love having more than one,” he said, kneeling in front of you and gently rubbing your length. “Don’t you?”

“I do,” you said. 

“Pervert,” he smirked, kissing the tip. “You never say ‘no’. I love it.” 

“I literally can’t say no,” you laughed softly, your brain focused on his hand rather than the words. “You all make me so fucking weak, it’s pathetic.” 

“You make us pretty weak too,” he said, pressing his lips to the underside of the head. “It’s not because you’re new either. We can tell you’re like us.” You shivered when he licked the wrinkles to the thick vein slowly pumping blood into your cock. “We knew it when we started catching you doing all the pervy stuff you were doing around us. It’s nice being around someone who understands you, and enjoys the same things as you.” He gave your shaft a soft squeeze, “You also just fit with us so well. It’s like once we met, we knew we’d found our ninth member. You’re the breath of fresh air, to be honest.”

“It is good being able to be open about who I am for once,” you said, softly gripping his hair, “Even if it’s behind closed doors. I always worried someone might find out for real, and I’d never debut.”

“Chan would’ve made sure that never happened,” he said, stroking you as you got harder. “He likes you a lot. I think he might like you more than the rest of us,” he giggled. 

“I doubt that's true.”

“Then, he’s the horniest for you for sure. I don’t blame him though. I thirst after you pretty hard sometimes. There’s a reason I always end up at the gym at the same time as you.” His mouth fell open and he placed the tip on his tongue. Giving it a few taps, he then said, “Will you fuck me there one day? I’d go to the gym more often if I knew I’d get a few inches of your dick each time.”

“God yes,” you sighed, watching his hand slide up and down your hardon. “That’d be so fucking hot.” 

You stared down, hands resting behind your back as Hyunjin took over. Toes curling into the carpet, every little lick and kiss sent more sparks of pleasure to your groin. You didn’t know how much longer you’d last once he fully stuck you in his mouth. You couldn’t look away from the plump lips tightly sucking you from top to bottom or the dark eyes staring up at you needily. His own dick stuck up to his stomach, and you groaned when you caught him stroking himself in time with you. He didn’t protest when you slid your hand into his hair to force him further down your cock. The back of his throat hugged your tip, fluttering around as it tried swallowing the bits of precum falling through but gagging instead. Hyunjin’s soft moans turned into low vibrations that had you bucking your hips forward. 

“Fuck me,” he coughed, spitting thick globs of precum and spit onto your cock before spreading it over. “Please, hyung. I can’t wait anymore.” 

Never one to waste time, you lifted him from the floor onto the bed nearby. Hyunjin giggled when you nearly tossed him and then crawled over him. Your lips met his again as you laid on top of him, grinding your wet cock against his ass when you lifted his legs up. Everything in you broke loose, so where you’d normally drag things out, you pushed the first inch inside him. Hyunjin’s grip on his knees tightened, arms going around them to keep them to his stomach as you went further. The walls of his throat were nothing compared to his ass. Your eyes rolled back in each push, your body shaking when you finally plunged all the way in. Propped up on your fists, you didn’t hold back this time. You gave this beautiful, tempting siren exactly what he wanted: to be fucked by you. 

All the teasing in the car and the blowjob brought out the feral, primal need for release. You rocked your hips into Hyunjin, his ass rippling every time your balls smacked into the bottom curves, and didn’t stop. Not even when your arms started quaking from holding you up or when your thighs and hips burned. Hyunjin’s desperate whines and whimpers turned into loud moans the closer he came to his orgasm. You felt him almost purposefully clenching around you, drawing you to the brink of pleasure. 

“Cum inside me,” he pleaded, opening his legs so you saw the dick leaking all over his stomach. “I love it when you do it.”

“Oh yeah?” you grabbed his thighs, holding them up to your waist as you changed your angle. “You love having cum in your ass?”

“I do, I do, I do,” he cried, starting to touch himself in front of you. The slick, wet noises of his strokes joined the ones further down. “It feels so good. I cum every time anyone does it. Please, hyung, please-yes, yes, like that!”

You couldn’t stop yourself this time. Your body turned rigid, shivering and shuddering as you released inside Hyunjin’s bottom. You looked down to see your cum, thick and white, gradually leaking out in every thrust. The tight hole worked out each drop right as Hyunjin’s own climax came. Spurting everywhere, you couldn’t look away. His body constricted in every long moan, and his hand erratically pumped until he finished.  

When it finally ended, you stayed buried in him as you both shared deep, long kisses. Hyunjin locked himself around you, and you slid your arms under his shoulders to keep him close. Out of habit, you made a thrust or two that earned you a soft moan. For several minutes, you enjoyed being close to him. You took in the scent of his faint cologne, and the shampoo and hair products lingering in his black hair. Your hands went down his body, giving his hips a squeeze. 

“Can we keep going?” he asked after a while, eyes closed as you kissed his cheek. “I need more.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up first, yeah?” you suggested, kissing from his neck to his collarbone. “I still want to see his tub of yours. 

The suggestion of more made Hyunjin smirk, “It really is nice.”

“Mine was too,” you said, carefully withdrawing. Thin streams of white dripped out of him once you did, and you held him open to watch it for a second. He twitched when you swiped your thumb over it, spreading the substance around. 

“Am I going to get a second load, hyung?” he asked, pushing down to your hand. 

“Of course,” you said. “Hyung will give you as much as he can.” 

The bathroom really was nice. Clearly, whoever designed it had horny newlywed couples in mind: the shower easily fit two or three people and was made entirely of glass. A wide mirror sat atop a marble sink counter, and more of them surrounded the corner tub. Hyunjin prepared for this moment. You spotted the lavender bubble bath sitting at the edge of the tub, which was already full of water and soap bubbles. Purple flower petals floated on the water amongst the rich lather, and someone placed fake candles in the corners. What caught your eye was the ice bucket on the floor: a bottle of wine with two glasses sat chilled inside unopened.

“You planned this,” you said from behind him, wrapping your arms around him. “Naughty boy.”

“I couldn’t resist,” he said, turning around to touch your chest. “I saw this bathtub and knew I had to be fucked in it by the hottest guy I know.”

“But, Changbin’s not here?” You joked.

“One of the hottest guys I know, then,” he said, laughing as he brought you to the tub. “Little did I know you’d fuck me beforehand.” 

“You sucked my dick,” you reasoned, “And told me to fuck you. How could I say ‘no’?”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” 

Fitting both of you comfortably, he stepped in first to rest against the rounded corner. You followed, surprised by the warmth.

“Who did this?” you asked, sliding into the space next to him.

“One of the staff,” he reached down for the wine, and twisted it open. “She went out and got the stuff, and set it up on our way here.”

If you’re thankful for anything, it’s the Stray Kids’ staff members. Hyunjin poured both of you wine, and the mixture of the soothing bath, a post-orgasm glow, and Hyunjin’s naked body became a deadly combination. Taking sips, you relaxed in the water to unwind from the nerve wracking day. You found it hard to not touch him. Even if he said he enjoyed it, you still cleaned up Hyunjin the best you could. The delicate touches soothed your younger member, who curled up close to you as you cleaned his lower half first. 

“I’m glad it’s me and you here,” he said softly, kissing you. 

“Because you get to have me to yourself?” you teased, pulling him across your lap. 

His arm around your neck, the other laid on your chest as he spoke. “Not only that,” he grinned, “But because you make me feel good. I feel okay with you. I don’t feel that way with that many people.”

“Really? You always seem so at ease with people.”

“I sort of have to force myself to be,” he admitted, “Otherwise people might think I’m being rude or not interested in what’s going on.” He leaned his head on your shoulder, tracing patterns between your pecs. “When I first got the invite, I was like ‘oh no, I’m going alone and it’ll be so awkward’, but then you said you got one too and I was so relieved. A holiday alone with you at a big fancy fashion show? It made me feel good about it. You’re better with people.”

“Am not,” you repeated. “I have to force it too. I’ve never been extroverted before I started training in Kpop groups. I knew if I wanted it to work, I needed to actually talk to my members. But…” your insides squirmed, “I also was scared they’d find out about me if I talked too much. I was always afraid of getting too comfortable and revealing it.” The memory of Beomgyu’s fists slamming hard into your face made you shudder, “So, after a while, I stopped getting close.”

“You feel okay with us though,” Hyunjin asked, “Right?”

“I do. I’ve never felt more at ease in a group before now.” 

“Channie-hyung was like that too when we first put the group together,” he said, sipping from his wine glass. “He’d been let down a lot, and didn’t want to get too close to us until the show.” He paused, “You guys have a lot in common. Not just interest wise, but the way you are.”

“No we’re not.” 

“You are,” he insisted. “Chan is this big protective leader and you’re the same way. You both are incredibly kind and passionate. You engage with Stays the same way, talk to the members the same way…It’s like you’re both the same person sometimes.”

This astute comparison to Chan knotted your stomach. You've thought about him a lot lately. More than usual since arriving in Milan. Like Hyunjin with you, Chan made you feel safe. You didn’t worry so much with him around, because you knew he’d have your back and watch out for you. Not many people have done that since you came to Seoul. 

“He really likes you,” Hyunjin said, breaking through your thoughts. “Chan, I mean. He likes you a lot.”

“Yeah, because we’re group members and he’s our le-”

“-Shut up, you know that’s not what I meant,” Hyunjin said, lightly splashing your chest. “He looks out for all of us, and always tries his best to care for us, but I notice he does it for you the most. I swear, if you say it’s because you’re new, I’m getting out of this tub and you can sort your dick out yourself,” he laughed before you could disagree. “It’s not because you’re new. It’s because you two have a connection, and he knows it. He wishes you knew it too.”

“How do you know? Has he…Has he said that?” 

“In a way,” he shrugged. “We were in bed together not that long ago and I asked him. Not in a jealous way, but I was curious about it. He said you were somebody special to him, and you made him nervous sometimes. He doesn’t really have to say it, though. He always gets all shy and blushes when any of us tease him for having a crush on you.”

Hearing this brought heat to your cheeks. You drank from your wine glass to cool it down, but it hardly worked. “Really?”

“You two are so cute,” he cooed, pinching your cheek. His eyes went from sweet to alluring as he said, “And hot.” 

“Jinnie…”

“What? It’s true,” he said, fingers trailing down your left to one nipple. “You make me horny so easily,” he grazed his fingertips over the hardening peak, knowing what it did to you. “All you have to do is touch me sometimes and I want to pounce on you,” the both of you laughed, kissing softly. “I’d originally wanted to fuck in here at first, but when you took out that big dick of yours-”

“-It’s above average at best-”

“-I had to have it right then.” 

You slid your hand over his lap, going back to touching his soft dick. “Is that so?” 

“Yes,” he nodded, wriggling when you touched him. He continued pinching your nipple as he whispered, “I haven’t stopped thinking about it since comeback night when you rearranged my guts. You fucked me so good,” he pecked your lips, “And so deep. I didn’t want to stop.” 

“Neither did I.” 

“Then don’t this time.” 

Hyunjin did not need to be told to straddle your lap. The water only coming up close to his midsection, your soapy hands had access to the top half. Kissing up his sternum, your hands slid over the curves and slopes of his body. He shifted around when you reached his lips, fingers crossing over his nipples every so often. You spent time studying his body; taking in the shape of him. His cock pressed right against yours in his seat, and he began returning the favor by rubbing your chest, shoulders and arms. You felt his desire growing between his thighs, only encouraging your own each time he grinded into you. Soon, you began feeling further down his body, kneading your fingers into the softer parts. Your cock pressed to Hyunjin’s, the pressure traveled from balls to head every time he moved around. You could feel exactly where his tip brushed against yours, and his balls just sliding right onto the base of your dick. 

“How’s that?” Hyunjin asked, continuing to grind on you with one arm around your neck.

“So good,” you groaned, tweaking one nipple softly. “So, so good.”

Hyunjin brought you in for a deep kiss as he held both your dicks in one hand. He moved suds from between you for you to see it clearly. You loved how his dick looked like squeezed in his hand with yours. Not as big, it still made you drool. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure through your body, tightening in your groin and slowly taking over. You watched him work both of you together, groaning as he tapped his tip against yours to pinch the sensitive nerves there. His nipples so close to your mouth, you reached down to lick one of them which made the pretty boy moan your name. He moved his hand faster when you reached around to grope his ass. The supple mounds filled your hands, and molded to your tender squeezes. Hyunjin lifted your head by the chin to make you look at him. 

“Finger me,” he panted, kissing your lips. “Finger me while you suck my dick, please. I want your pretty lips around me, Hyung.” 

“Sit up here for me then,” you told him, patting the small corner where he could sit, “Hyung will take good care of you tonight.” 

You both maneuvered around until he sat in front of you. Feet propped up on either side, Hyunjin became completely exposed and vulnerable to you. The picture of him spread out, breathless and aching made you harder, and you desperately wanted to pound him into the mirror behind him. The lingering droplets of water streamed down his length, sliding onto his balls. You started from bottom to top, keeping it light and playful with teasing flicks and quick kisses. You’d add your palm strokes into the mix, seeing the black-haired beauty squirm each time your hand passed over the most sensitive part. You coated your fingers in your spit and started rolling them around his entrance below. Having him resting in your mouth sparked a new arousal you couldn’t control. The heaviness on your tongue, the smooth skin sliding over it made your dick throb in the water. The hole below clenched and unclenched at your fingers, almost like inviting you to sink them 

His cock throbbed in your hand, feeling heavier and thicker as you worked him. You knew it’d be a while before he came again, considering his previous orgasm, but you didn’t mind. You could go all night, if he wished. Hyunjin’s mouth hung open in low moans; he gripped the corners of the tub, hands even sliding on the mirrors for something to grab onto. You looked up to see his head fall back as you stuck one finger halfway inside him. The image of his hole stretching to your movements was a drool worthy sight. His walls squeezed tight around the digit, fluttering and pulling it further each time you withdrew and pushed back in. Once it was to the last knuckle, you kept it there for several seconds as you sucked his hard tip. 

“YN,” he whined, “Put another finger…Please? Please, finger me harder…faster…please. Please. I can take it, I swear.” 

“I know you can,” you smirked up at him, “But I like teasing pretty boys like you. You always look so cute when you squirm around,” you flick your tongue over the twitching muscle in front of you, “And get harder and harder for me.”

“Hyung,” he cried out, moving his hips around but getting nowhere. “Please. I promise I’ll be a good boy. I’ll be your….your good boy….”

“Good to know,” you said, sucking on the head as you pumped your fingers through his hole. “Because only good boys get to cum with me. You be patient and enjoy my fingers, baby, and you’ll get fucked soon, okay?”

“O-Okay.” 

He cried out and gripped your hair when you slipped the tip in your mouth. One arm around your thigh for support, you spat on your fingers again and shoved a second finger. This made Hyunjin more desperate, but he stayed put as you’d ordered. You took in another inch every other stroke, causing the raven-haired beauty to moan out your name in between curses. The sensitivity kicked in once he reached your throat. The thickness of him blocked your airway, penetrating as deep as you could take it while still humming, and you loved it. His legs twitched when you finally fingered him faster. Not fast enough to satisfy him, but enough to make him moan louder. 

“Such a good boy,” you groaned against his dick, not taking it out completely. “That’s it. Stay right there. Don’t move.” 

You took him to the base and fingered him how he’d wanted for a few seconds. The choking caused drool to drip from the hilt, which you slurped up obscenely. He gave a frustrated cry when you stopped suddenly, bucking his hips around. By the time you pulled off him, your throat burned and your jaw ached, but you still kissed and licked up his dripping cock. You simply couldn’t get enough of it. You realized how tender your cock was when you pressed him against the mirrored wall and put his legs and arms around you. You were thankful for all those weight training sessions with Changbin. 

As he’d requested, you did not take it easy on him. Keeping him pinned to the wall, you did your best to bottom up into him. Your balls smacking the lower curves of his ass, hips slapping the backs of his thighs, you pounded him. Your cock throbbed against the hole pulling you; the faint tickle of your balls hitting him added to the pleasure. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot, hyung,” he breathed, head turned to the mirror at the edge of the tub. “You’re fucking me so well and so deep. I can see your dick going in and out. It’s so fucking hot.”

You grabbed his chin and forced him to watch you fuck him instead. The both of you stayed in that position, taking in the sight of your bodies pressed together. “You like watching yourself get fucked, huh?” you teased, leaning back to grab his leaking cock. “Do you?”

“Yes, yes,” he whined through his teeth, unable to move into you in his folded position. “I love wat-wa-watching you fu-u-fuck me.” 

He cried when you pulled out, but you didn’t stay out for long. You helped him turn around, arching his back before shoving your dick back inside. Grabbing his hair, you kept it in the same direction as you continued the same pace. 

“Stroke yourself,” you grunted, smacking his ass with your free hand, “Make the picture prettier by touching yourself for me.” 

He didn’t hesitate. Hyunjin rapidly jerked his dick in time with your thrusts. You nearly came from seeing the vision in the mirror. Your dick really did stretch Hyunjin out, and the both of you couldn’t get enough of it. Things stayed this way until your lover and you exited the tub for the floor. His phone nearby on the counter, Hyunjin turned on his camera and handed it to you. You did not need to be told what to do. Pressing the record button, Hyunjin started riding you facing forward so the camera had a perfect view of him. You both knew how much the members would enjoy it. 

“That’s it, just like that,” you groaned, grabbing and pinching his nipple. “Just like that, good boy.” 

“Hyung, hyung, hyung,” he whined on every bounce. “Hyung, your dick feels fucking amazing. I can-can’t ge-get enough of it! Don’t stop fucking me! Even when we cum, please, don’t stop.” 

“Trust me, I’m not going to. You’ve been after my dick all night, and you're getting every inch.” 

The words quickened Hyunjin’s pace. Face flushed, lips swollen and open, and his erection flopping with him  might’ve sent you over the edge. He lost all control when you started pushing your hips to meet him, hard and fast as he’d wanted. Soon, he was quivering and shaking in place, drool falling from his lips as his eyes rolled back and closed. You knew you were hitting the right spot; you could feel it every time you hit a different angle. Hyunjin did not stop as he started cumming. His cum sprayed everywhere in his ride, falling on you and him in thick streams. You managed to withhold your own orgasm despite his tightening body. You propped the phone against the bottom of the tub, and carefully rolled him onto his stomach. Hyunjin knew what position you wanted, and immediately lifted his ass into the air. Hands curling into the fluffy bath rug under him, he stayed firmly in place as you pushed back into him. 

You made sure the camera caught a good angle of your dick filling his ass in every thrust. You didn’t slow down or soften on him. The feeling of him taking you so well became addicting. You loved watching your dick ruin everyone else for him. Soon, you were shaking and gripping his hips hard. Hyunjin, jerking himself off, whimpered as you came inside him again. Your dick twitching and pulsating had him moaning with you, even if he wasn’t climaxing. You made sure to push your cum back in as deep as possible, wanting to coat his walls with your seed. 

Hyunjin laughed breathily when you didn’t stop. Withdrawing, you started lapping up the cum dripping from him. He wriggled around when your tongue snaked through and started probing his tight hole. The bumpy walls hugged the muscle like they’d done to your cock, not wanting it to exit but somehow go further. Your face buried in his ass, your arms locked around his thighs, Hyunjin could do nothing but writhe around on the floor and grasp at the rug and tiled floors. His pathetic whimpering aroused you once again, and you couldn’t explain how. Knowing the camera still filmed you encouraged you to do more. 

“Use my hole, YN. Use my hole to cum again.”

Four orgasms. You have no idea how either of you managed four, but you did. Having left the bathroom, you both ended up back on the bed with Hyunjin holding the phone as he filmed you in the closet mirror. Straddling one of his thighs, you laid him on his back with one lifted so you could enter him. Exhaustion began weighing you down, but the need for one more had you going. You laid on top of him in a similar position, kissing the nape of his neck and shoulders as you humped him. The sensitivity made you quiver each time, and it wasn’t soon after that the two of you came together. 

“That was…so good,” Hyunjin said, taking deep breaths and burying his face into the pillow for a moment. “Amazing.”

“Exactly how you wanted?” you asked, melting on top of him as you finally gave into your tiredness. 

“Yes,” he laughed weakly, unable to move from how worn out he felt. 

He turned off the video, and you watched him send it through hazy eyes. “You all really like sending nudes, huh?” you joked, kissing his shoulder. 

“It’s only fair to-to share good experiences,” he giggled, putting his phone aside. 

You pulled from him, twitching at the last slide against your sensitive cock. Laying on your back, every thought of tomorrow remained in the back of your mind. You knew in a few hours a manager would knock on the door and find you both in your marked-up, worn out, naked state. Usually, you’d have some kind of shame when you were found by one of them, but right then you couldn’t care less. The two of you made vain attempts to clean yourself up with wet wipes Hyunjin kept nearby, then rolled under the covers together. 

Like last time, the members were shocked and aroused by the video. They marveled at your endurance and stamina; Changbin claimed credit for getting you into working out, which greatly helps. You didn’t know how to explain what happened, but only that Hyunjin worked you up too much to not go a few more times. 

“We should go on vacations together more often,” Hyunjin said the next morning as you both carefully dressed yourselves. Last night’s vigorous romp left your muscles sore and stiff. “If that’s the kind of fucking you do away from home,” he sneered. 

“I don’t know what came over me,” you laughed as he walked into your arms. You kissed him gently, nuzzling his nose, “I’d blame the champagne and wine, but that wouldn’t make sense.”

“Just say it’s because we’re both super horny sluts and forget about it,” he said, kissing you one more time before pulling away. Zipping up the suitcase on the bed, he took your hand and pecked your lips again, “Let’s get going. We’ll miss our flight.”

“Right. Yeah, of course.”

In the van, you checked your phone for messages and saw a message from Felix. Your body flushed with heat when you saw it was a photo of him wearing nothing but boxers and an anal plug in his ass. 

“Please fuck me like that when we hang out again. I've never gone that long before.”

As you expected, Han also messaged you. In his, he sat on a dildo which he rode in a loop.

“See? I can fuck like that too. Can I be next?? I promise I'll be good 🥺”

You had no idea who you wanted next. 

****

A/N: These boys are totally horny for this boy, haha. Another totally self-indulgent newbie fic. lmao I hope you guys enjoyed this one too! remember to reblog/like too <3

[seoulmatez]

HO HO HO !

info ⭑ kuroo x fem!reader ﾉ 0.7k wc ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ reader wears a dress and heels, referred to as wife

requested by @tetzoro for my winter wonderland event!

it’s that time of year when kuroo’s company holiday parties are starting to roll around. he isn’t the type to turn down an invitation but he also isn’t the type to go anywhere without you, which explains how you’ve found yourself in your current predicament.

a frown tugs at your lips as you hold a gold earning in one hand and a silver in the other, raising and lowering both of them to get an idea of which would look better with your dress. the fabric wrapped around you is a deeper red color, burgundy if you had to name it. each time you compare the two pieces of jewelry with the garment, the scale begins to weigh in favor of one over the other.

you can practically hear kuroo telling you, “go for gold,” as you put the earrings in with a small smile. 

after a few finishing touches—smoothing down flyaways, spritzing some perfume, fixing your lipstick—you grab your bag and shoes and make your way down to the living room where kuroo is waiting for you.

the christmas music playing over the record grows louder as you descend the stairs and the closer you get to the bottom, the more distinct kuroo’s humming becomes. he isn’t in the living room where you expect to find him, but in the kitchen surveying the cookies for the party that you had told him not to touch. the floor creaks with your approach and his head shoots up like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

though, the look of guilt that paints his face is only temporary. widened eyes are quickly traded for wandering ones, dark amber irises raking over your figure before settling on your own questioning gaze.

“ho ho holy shit you look good,” kuroo announces, leaning against the kitchen island with a grin.

you groan at his lame joke, earning a deep chuckle from kuroo. you should be used to it by now—his corny jokes and cheesy pickup lines. maybe part of you has grown accustomed to it all, but you can’t help but offer up the same unimpressed reaction every time. 

you join him at the counter, setting your bag on the surface and situating yourself on one of the stools.

“no good?” he asks, taking your heels from your hand and kneeling down to put them on for you.

you hum in contemplation, poking his chest with your toe. “i guess i’d rather have you use your bad lines here than in public.”

“oh come on,” he looks up at you while clasping the strap of your shoe around your ankle, “it wasn’t that bad.”

you giggle at his defensiveness, holding his cheeks in your hands when he rests his chin on your knees. he softens like butter under your touch and you get the feeling your hands on his face is apology enough for your jab. still, you squish his cheeks and tell him, “thank you for the compliment, tetsu.”

kuroo grins before turning to kiss the inside of your wrist. you pat his cheeks and jerk your head in the direction of the cookies you had decorated before getting ready. “help me pack these up?”

“of course.” he gives you a hand to help you down from the stool and lets you start while he washes his hands. 

with festive music filling the air, the two of you store the cookies in tupperware, stacking each bin on top of each other when they’re filled. you’re packing up the last tub now but when you reach for the final cookie, it’s missing from its place on the parchment paper.

you turn to investigate where the treat disappeared to and find it in kuroo’s hand on the way to his mouth.

“hey!” you point a scolding finger at him. “these are supposed to be for the party.”

“what, my wife being the baker doesn’t give me first dibs?” he questions, a confused crease between his eyebrows.

you’re tempted to tell him that his status as your husband doesn’t earn him special privileges but the genuine bewilderment he wears weakens your resolve. it’s a combination of funny and sweet that you can’t bring yourself to say no to.

“fine, it’s yours.” you close up the last tub, short by one cookie than you’d originally planned. “you better be glad i love you.”

he steps behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and leaning down to plant a kiss on your temple. “i thank my lucky stars every day.”

[h0rnyauth0r]

just thinking about being pinned between ghost and könig, who can’t get enough of using you :3

THIS PROBABLY ISNT ANY GOOD BUT I GOT HORNY AND WANTED TO WRITE FILTH AGAIN :) thank you for reading!!!!

word count: 1.2k

warnings: double penetration, reader w/ vagina and i think she/her implied, cumming inside, threesome, very very dirty and rushed tbh

you’re not sure how the moment came around where the tension and anger between ghost and könig became resolved after all this time, but you can’t help but be relieved that you can finally spend time with them this afternoon and feel comfortable.

they’ve both spent time doting on you, offering help with different tasks you want to complete and to bring you different things as you may need them. but now? they’re both awfully close to you, faces covered as they practically trap you while talking about what different desires you hold within.

you’re not sure how the topic even got brought up, but needless to say, you mentioned masked men and it seemingly piqued their interest in you after. neither are too good at expressing emotion, but you can sense just how horny every person in this room is right now.

you would be 100% lying if you didn’t say the idea of the two of these large men defiling you makes your pussy run like a river, and you are craving one of them to just do something to make the built up tension finally snap between the three of you.

“you like mystery? anonymity?” ghost’s asking you, and you nod embarrassedly. having the two of them know things about you that you don’t really tell others is overwhelming you in the most filthy way.

“are you okay with being shared?” könig asks you, voice behind you and right in your ear. you quickly nod in hopes of them both taking the hint and finally having their way with you.

you whimper aloud when ghost’s hands grip your thighs intensely, könig gripping onto your ass as the two men fondle your body with their large hands in sync.

they waste no time in stripping your clothes off, ghost working on your top half and könig stripping your bottom half in a teasingly slow manner once you’re left in just some panties.

he plays with your waistband for a moment, slapping the elastic against your skin repeatedly and eventually sliding his fingers in to caress your clit gently. you squeal and squirm when he pinches it just as ghost opts to knead at your tits and play with your nipples, the stimulation overwhelming you and soaking your panties completely.

könig finally helps slide your panties down your body and they slap onto the floor with a soft wet sound, the two men looking at you with almost animalistic eyes knowing just what impact they have on you now.

“that wet already, huh? guess you like being used like a slut.” ghost’s voice is lustful and oh so hot as he opts to get his dick out and ready to go into you.

könig stops him though, fingers teasing at your wet hole and gathering up your wetness before dipping them into your other hole. you moan from the foreign feeling, his fingers slowly making their way into your ass as your pussy clenches around nothing.

your eyes clamp shut as he works you open, ghost opting to play with your clit to you get prepped to take them both. the feeling that both of them are giving you has you wanting more, legs feeling wobbly and unholy noises escaping your throat.

it isn’t long before both of them are satisfied with your drooling cunt and finally line themselves up, ghost entering first. your eyes roll to the back of your head when he’s in all the way, almost screaming out when könig starts to push in as well.

you’ve never felt so full before, tears streaming down your face and you know you’re on the verge of an orgasm already. they both give you a moment to get used to the sensation, ghost whispering into your ear about how good you are and how well you take them.

after a little while, you start to grow impatient with their stillness. “please move.” you whine out head falling back against könig’s broad shoulders.

when they both initially thrust, your mouth falls open and your eyes clench shut tightly. you can’t help the pornographic noises that come out of your mouth as they find their rhythm together, slapping noises echoing off of the walls.

“you’re doing so good- fuck.” ghost’s voice is strained as he attempts to praise you, a low growl escaping his throat as he picks up his pace. his pelvis hits against your clit from his movements, pleasure tingling up your spine from the friction.

könig’s breathy moans and groans really get you going, feeling his hands grip onto your hips tightly as he fucks into your ass with fervor. you feel like you’re about to cum at any moment, body twitching and muscles giving up against their bodies.

when ghost reaches in between your bodies and rubs your clit in fast and tight circles you cum with a loud moan, pussy clamping against him as your orgasm racks through your whole body with an intensity you’ve never felt before.

“such a good pussy.” he mumbles into your ear as he coaxes you through your orgasm.

the man behind you hums in agreement to those words despite being balls deep in your ass, still grunting with each hard thrust he takes. “feels amazing.” is all he can say, words coming out in a groan that you find so very attractive.

it isn’t long before you can tell that they’re both close to cumming, thrusts becoming labored and more desperate. könig cums in you first, a whine coming out of his mouth that makes you flush and you unintentionally clench against ghost as a result. 

as könig pulls out, ghost finally cums inside of you with a shudder. the force behind his thrusts and the feeling of his cum filling your cunt have you crying now, so much pleasure to the point where you feel like you’re broken and your brain can’t work anymore.

when his thumb starts playing with your clit again, you feel like you’re going to implode from how pathetically quick you cum against his fingers as he pulls his dick out of you. cum is leaking out of both holes and does even more so as your orgasm pushes through.

könig plays with your tits as you finally feel some clarity again, going limp against his chest and feeling a tiredness that practically incapacitates you. you can hear ghost move and head into your bathroom, the sound of the sink being turned on, but you can’t open your eyes.

the large austrian behind you holds your weight, a hand gently caressing your hair and massaging your scalp. you feel like you could pass out at any moment as ghost comes out.

the feeling of a warm, wet washcloth gently wiping at your body makes you jump before you relax into it appreciatively. “thank you.” you whisper to him, voice hoarse.

“of course.” he says, gently slapping your ass before you feel könig carry you to your bed and lay you down. they’re both sweet with the way they comfort you and eventually tuck you under your blankets.

you’re out before you can say anything to them, falling asleep to the sound of their hushed voices and hoping that this wasn’t some sort of one time thing that wouldn’t occur ever again.

-

taglist: @wwwurmomdotcom @kovieky @chibijusstuff @clove-shitposts

send me a dm or ask if you want to be added/removed from my taglist!

[florencebirdsong]

you can run but you can’t hide

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal

summary: you sleep with one witch without killing her and suddenly your girlfriend has the time to hunt you down. Go figure.

Or, Agatha wants Rio’s attention and now she has it. Quick and dirty style.

tags: top!Rio, brief power!bottom Agatha, they are switches after all, fingering (both receiving), knife play, no blood description, biting, thorny vine restraints, possessive Rio, little shit Agatha

masterlist | ao3

authors note: this is early-ish in their relationship. Before Nicky but when Agatha is already well into her serial killer phase.

“Oh, Agatha~” Rio sings. 

Her voice comes from all directions. Running from the original green witch in a centuries old forest isn’t the best idea but Agatha is quite literally out of options.

A branch rustles but there’s a suspicious shadow in its opposite direction. Agatha aims slightly for the left of the branch and finds herself sliding into a ditch. Her muffling spell deadens the sound of snapping twigs and sliding leaves. She resists the urge to cast an illusion over her little dip in the ground. Not only would it not work on Death but it would be a dead give away to her. There’s leaves sticking to her face, roots poking her ribs and something sharp grazing her ankle but she doesn’t risk moving.

Leaves crunching in a steady pattern give away footsteps. 

“Agatha~” Rio sings out again, a dark edge to her voice Agatha hasn’t heard in a long time. A warning that she’s toeing the line, and not one of the fun ones they like to draw for each other.

Two steps closer and Agatha can see the edge of Rio’s silhouette. Her hand twitches but she doesn’t take the bait. They’ve been playing this game long enough for her to know better. 

Her restraint doesn’t matter. Rio already knows where she is. Shrubs grab at her and propel her into Death’s waiting arms.

“Got you,” Rio says with a cheeky grin before slamming her against a tree. Agatha tries to grapple with her but her breath has been forced out of her. Rio has her pinned within a second. “Someone’s been naughty,” she says.

“Can a girl not spend a night curing her loneliness?” 

“You know the rules. That is not how you get my attention.” Rio’s pulls her knife out and pokes into the soft flesh under Agatha’s chin.

“You’re here now, aren’t you?” Agatha says.

“Don’t tell me you’re being the jealous one, Agatha. You can summon me whenever you like,” Rio says as she trails the knife down Agatha’s throat.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the area’s a little bare of witches at the moment.”

“And yet you still managed to find one to bed,” Rio’s smile edges more towards a snarl.

“A green one too,” Agatha smiles as Rio’s snarl stretches further. “I knew that would get under your skin.”

“Oh, Agatha,” Rio knife digs in, “We both know the only thing under my skin is you.”

“Prove it,” Agatha snarls back. She goes for the knife but Rio digs it in deeper.

“Careful, sweetheart, you know what happens when my claws come out,” she slides her knife lightly along Agatha’s neck. Just enough to make a thin, red cut.

“They’re not out already?” Agatha asks. “Was me fucking another woman not enough?” 

Rio growls and throws Agatha to the ground face first. Agatha doesn’t get a chance to push herself back up. Rio jumps on top of her and she narrowly avoids slamming her chin into the ground. She expects at least a few more verbal jabs but Rio’s been pushed past her limit. She forces herself between Agatha’s legs, keeping her down with a hand pressing her head into the dirt, and tears off Agatha’s pants. Half a second later and she’s forcing three fingers into Agatha’s soaked cunt. They moan together.

It only takes three harsh thrusts for Agatha to stop being disappointed that the game is over so quickly. She pushes back onto Rio’s fingers and Rio’s grip tightens in her hair.

“If you’re so desperate then come,” she demands with a snarl. 

They’ve only just started yet Rio curls her fingers and Agatha finds herself right on the edge. Rio leans down and sinks her sharp teeth into the vulnerable skin on her neck and Agatha comes with a muffled scream.

Rio removes her teeth and laughs against Agatha’s skin.

“She must’ve been bad if that’s all it took,” she says.

“Who?” Agatha murmurs through her post-orgasm haze. Rio laughs again. She ignores Agatha’s whine as she gently pulls out and turns her over. She settles on Agatha’s hips.

“Who owns you, Agatha?” she murmurs as she runs her wet fingers down Agatha’s throat, enjoying the way Agatha basks in the attention. One corner of Agatha’s mouth twitches up.

“That witch,” she says. Rio’s fingers close around her throat. She doesn’t break eye contact.

“You don’t even remember her name.”

“I never even knew it,” Agatha says with that same teasing smile. 

What should cancel out her previous statement makes it burn hotter by the way she says it. Thorny vines shoot out to wrap around her wrists and ankles.

“I could just leave you here,” Rio threatens.

“You won’t,” Agatha says with such certainty it infuriates Rio. 

Another vine caresses Agatha’s throat before wrapping around it. She’s right. Rio has gone too long without her to leave her so soon. That doesn’t mean she has to satisfy her.

Rio begins grinding down and Agatha watches her with that same lazy smirk.

“Don’t get too cocky, Agatha. I’m going use you to come and then leave you here wanting.”

“Just like that other green witch did?”

Rio gnashes her teeth together. She resists the urge to sink them into Agatha again. Her anger will create too much force and she’ll break something. 

Instead, Rio leans down, never faltering in her rhythm, to breathe the same air as her love. She watches as Agatha drinks in every inch of her expression as she gets closer and closer. That cocky look turns into desire which then turns into pure want as Rio nears the edge. Rio’s eyes flutter close and she leans that little bit closer so her lips brush Agatha’s. Agatha tries to close the gap but the thorns cutting into her skin keep her still. Rio moans into her mouth.

A needy sound leaving her has Agatha squirming but it’s too late. Rio shudders on top of her and comes before Agatha gets a chance to fully enjoy it.

The desperate eyes that greet Rio are almost as sweet as her orgasm. She gently runs her fingers over Agatha’s cheek before gripping her face tightly.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she growls, her eyes creeping towards their other-worldly purple glow. 

Or what? Agatha wants to say but Rio’s grip is too tight. The challenge is still clear on her face and Rio’s nails lengthen to dig into her skin.

“You are mine, Agatha Harkness,” Rio hisses. “I can make you wish you were dead as much as I can make you feel alive.”

There’s a much darker note under Rio’s voice than Agatha is used to. Her challenging look turns wary. She doubts this game will ever stop being fun but that doesn’t mean nastier moments can’t sneak through. She doesn’t want Rio to doubt her devotion. That would be more dangerous than anything she’s attempted before.

“I claim you, Rio Vidal, Death, The First Green Witch,” Agatha declares. Rio’s eyes widen a fraction. “You are mine as I am yours, until the end of time.”

The words carry a hint of magic and Rio’s snarl slides off her face. 

“I am yours as you are mine,” Rio breathes with the same amount of devotion. A hint of desperation hidden by Rio sealing the vow with a kiss. Soft at first but quickly devolving into their usual hunger. 

Rio removes the vine keeping Agatha’s neck pinned, so she doesn’t have to break the kiss as she rises slightly on her knees and slips her fingers back inside of Agatha. Agatha moans into her mouth and Rio swallows it eagerly. She wants to devour her, merge their bodies and bind their souls as one. For now she settles for chasing Agatha across the continent and pulling every lick of pleasure she can from her.

Agatha’s magic snaps the rest of vines holding her down, thorns slicing her as she reaches for Rio. Her hands find the back of Rio’s neck and the bodice of her dress. Rio’s less punishing thrusts allow her room to guide the kiss. Her hand moves from Rio’s bodice to the skirts of her dress and tugs them up until she can get it under. She gives Rio the same treatment she’s receiving and slips three fingers into her heat, quickly matching her rhythm. Fingers curl, thumbs find clits, teeth scrape over skin and tongues dips into mouths. They become one moaning, writhing mess as they both reach their peaks before collapsing into each other.

Panting slightly, Agatha gently moves hair out of Rio’s face. She’s wearing that look that means she wants to consume Agatha but her eyes are flashing violet in the way that means too many bodies are calling. The strain of ignoring it is apparent on her face.

“Go do your job, Death,” Agatha releases her. “But don’t be so long this time, hmm?” 

“You won’t leave the next one alive,” Rio says firmly.

“There are other ways to torture you, my love,” Agatha says softly, like it’s a sweet promise. Rio’s eyes flash a deeper purple, no death magic lightening them. 

“I shall return soon,” she promises. 

Soon to death can be very different to life but Agatha accepts the promise with a kiss.

“Te veo,” Rio whispers against her lips before getting up and fading back into the dark. 

Agatha lies there for a along while, getting her breath back.

[iamthecomet]

𝔐𝔲𝔰𝔥𝔶 𝔐𝔞𝔶 𝔇𝔞𝔶 𝔒𝔫𝔢: ℭ𝔲𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔄𝔤𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫

Pairing: Raindrop Rating: G Words: 885 Mushy May prompts by @forlorn-crows Divider by @ghuleh-recs

Rain finds it hard to look at Dew when he’s like this. Hyper focused. Hands full. A little furrow dug in between fair eyebrows. Tongue pinned between his fangs, poking out just enough. Corners of his lips pulling down as he really gets into it. The world dissolving around him. 

It makes Rain want to kiss him. Or strangle him. Both. He should look away. They’re doing the sort of parallel play that they always do after a tour winds down. Instrument maintenance in an otherwise empty practice room. Dew cleaning and restringing guitar after guitar. Making little changes to help him out next time–things that are still fresh on his mind since they’ve only been home a few days. 

Dew’s sitting on the floor, cross legged. Guitar on his lap. Fingers flying over the frets. Headphones on–whatever he’s playing piped into his head alone. Rain gave up on his bass a while ago. It’s restrung, it’s clean. He has other things he could do–practice. Work on the little things he kept fumbling over. Start plucking out new bass lines for the album Papa says they need written write away. But he doesn’t bother.  He can’t imagine anything else he’d rather do than watch Dew. 

Dew’s one crooked fang digs into his lip when he really concentrates. He’s bent over the guitar now, head bobbing. Foot bouncing where it’s trapped beneath one of his skinny thighs. 

Rain loves to watch him play. He doesn’t get to often. Even when they practice it feels like a performance. And Rain has to focus on hitting all his marks, and not falling up the stairs, and not fucking up the song. And Dew–in those cases–isn’t like this. Isn’t small and quiet and himself. He is a persona on stage–most of it true to life, but this feels more genuine. 

And, he’s fucking adorable. The fans will never see him like this–Dew would see it as a weakness. Rain thinks that’s stupid but secretly he’s glad he gets to call this version of Dew his. 

He stands–he can’t help it. Can’t wait anymore. He puts his bass away. Dew doesn’t notice or look up–engrossed in his guitar, in the music. Head swaying, whisps of long golden hair coming loose from the bun at the back of his head to fall over his cheeks. Rain sits down behind him. Brackets Dew with his legs, careful not to bump the guitar as he does. He presses his chest right up against Dew’s chest, hands slipping down to rest at Dew’s waist. Gentle. 

He smells like weed and cinnamon. Rain inhales. Dew leans back against him a little. That’s the only indication Rain gets that Dew knows he’s there at all. That’s ok, Rain doesn’t really want attention. He just wants to watch. 

He hooks his chin over Dew’s shoulder and casts his eyes down. Watches those lithe fingers fly over the frets. Rain can hear the headphones now–can tell he’s practicing Phantom of the Opera solos–a song they’ve never even played live. Leave it to Dew to be the over achiever. Rain turns his head to look at Dew’s profile. Sharp cheekbones. Furrowed brow. A little peek of pink tongue sticking out between his fangs–both of them really digging into that bottom lip now. 

Rain wants to press his thumb to it–pull it free. But that seems–invasive. Distracting.  He nuzzles against him instead, tucking his face into Dew’s neck and shuffling as close as he can, like he wants to crawl into Dew’s skin with him. 

Dew picks up a raspy purr. It’s quiet–but Rain feels it. He’s not even sure Dew knows he’s doing it. Satanas he’s adorable like this. It’s unfair. Criminal. Rain can’t stand it. 

Before he realizes he’s doing it he’s opened his jaw and clamped down on the juncture between Dew’s neck and shoulder. He can’t help it–he doesn’t even know why he’s doing it. He just knows if he doesn’t put Dew in his mouth and rattle him around like a chew toy right now he’s going to lose it. 

Dew jolts.  “What the fuck, dude?” 

Dew stops playing, rips the headphones off, he looks down at Rain. Furrow in his brow gone now–instead his eyebrows are up by his hairline. The puzzled look on his face doesn’t help. Rain bites down a little harder before he gets a hold of himself again. 

“Sorry,” Rain mumbles, unlatching his jaw to talk. He wants to dig in again. Wants to sink his teeth in and carry Dew around in his jaw for the rest of eternity. 

“You bit me,” Dew laughs. He’s looking at Rain like he’s lost his mind–maybe he has. But the way he reaches over to tuck a dark curl behind Rain’s ear makes the water ghouls heart swell. Doesn’t matter if Dew thinks he’s insane, because Dew loves him all the same. 

Rain nuzzles against him again. “You looked cute,” he mumbles.

Dew blinks at him, that little crease in his eyebrow comes back as he works it out in his head. But he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t stop purring. If anything, he leans more of his weight onto Rain. Rain’s purr kicks up in return. 

Dew sighs. “Just…not so hard next time.” 

Rain huffs out a little laugh, “no promises.”

[shutupineedtothink]

Billy Theory - That boy and Agatha are the same

I know some people want Billy to have these hidden motivations and secretly he hates Agatha so that’s why he put the sigil on himself. So that he would show up with this false, aw shucks persona of Billy Kaplan and fool her into helping him walk the Road and bring his mother back at the end. Or get power, or his brother, or whatever.

But I want it to be the exact opposite. He did put the sigil on himself to hide his real identity from her, and from the other witches. But it isn’t because he hates them. He’s afraid of them. He actually is Agatha’s fan. And he idolizes and respects all of these women. And he’s afraid if they find out he’s Wanda Maximoff’s son, the ultimate witch gone bad, the personification of every negative, evil stereotype Lilia has been talking about around witches, they’ll reject him.

He’s afraid they never would have taken him on the Road to begin with, because somewhere along the last three years, and after the events of Multiverse of Madness, he realized oh my god, my mom was the evil one. (I’m assuming Wanda’s turn was publicized in the MCU, or maybe he sensed it magically.) And he (somehow) learns more and more about Agatha and realizes that she was never as evil as she pretends to be, or at least she never went on a killing rampage like Wanda did. But surely she must hate him, because she hates his mom. They must all hate him. That’s his motivation for the sigil. Fear, of himself, of what people will think of him, not anger. Starting to sound familiar?

Sure, I think it’s narratively interesting if he hates her and then he has to come to terms with who Agatha really is underneath it all. But it’s way more narratively interesting, for both of them, if his own journey, his own trauma, his own inner dialogue, very closely reflects hers. They’re mirrors.

What does Agatha, at her core, believe about herself? Her mother hated her because her mother believed she was evil. She internalized that and sees herself as evil, plays into that persona even as she tries to be the opposite of that. In her mind currently, she’s so innately evil she (directly or indirectly) caused the death of her own son.

It’s not quite an exact match for Billy, but the result is the same. He sees (or maybe even magically feels) how his mother turned bad, killed innocent people (listen I love Wanda, but she did). He thinks oh my god, I have the same magic. There’s no witch out there who will want to teach me. And probably, on some deep down level he thinks, maybe I’m evil too. Maybe just like my mom, there’s no other path for me.

Bottom line? That boy isn’t Agatha’s. That boy is another version of her own inner story. She and that boy are the same, on a deep fundamental level.

Stop here if you don’t want potential ep 6 spoilers! More specifics for how I think we move forward under the cut.

Where does that leave us after ep 5/going into ep 6? Here’s the breakdown.

Billy does what he does at the end of ep 5, basically becoming his worst fear, turning into the evil witch version of his mother.

But it’s not real (see my other post about the false trial). So Agatha, Jen, and Lilia, wake up from the false trial (thank you Rio), maybe they have to fight the Seven and defeat them together, and let’s say Alice is alive too, because I want her to be. Everyone’s still on the Road.

Billy is still trapped in the spell. They have to wake him up somehow. Jen’s already saying uncertainly, maybe we don’t want to wake him up, but Agatha immediately defends him. No, it wasn’t his fault, it was a trap, and she provoked him. That whole “trial” was a manifestation of her punishment by the Seven, it wasn’t really him. She’s adamant about this and the others (maybe reluctantly) go with it.

They wake him up — and in my head, they wake him up by destroying the sigil (breaking the illusion of his identity and the Seven’s spell in one go). Of course, it’s Agatha that has to do it, because she and Rio are the only ones who know. And really, Agatha’s known all along, right. I think she knew from the second he broke her out of the spell in ep 1. She just wanted to believe otherwise. So after a few failed attempts to shake him awake and probably a line from Rio along the lines of “You know you have to say it Agatha,” she does. “William Maximoff.” It’s sad, and soft, without any intention to hurt him. (A sigil is destroyed when it’s no longer needed.)

So the sigil is destroyed and our boy wakes up. There’s some initial remnants of anger on his face, but then once he sees them all staring at him warily, he starts to get scared. He remembers what he’s done to them, even if it wasn’t real. He scrambles away from them, please no, I didn’t mean to — I swear I want to be good.

It’s Agatha’s trauma, a version of herself, playing out right in front of her. Playing out in front of us, again. Only now she gets to do for him what her mother never did for her, and what the coven never did for her in the false trial either. She sees him. She defends him, his true self, the curious hopeful smart boy he’s been this whole time. (You don’t need to know someone’s name to know who they really are.) She goes to him and she says it wasn’t real. That wasn’t you. It was me, my punishment. Not yours.

But he’s not convinced yet. And now it hits him — But you know who I am. You said my name.

Agatha says, I think I always knew who you were.

Then why don’t you hate me?

She’s genuinely confused. Why would I hate you?

He looks at the rest of them and back to her. Because I’m… Wanda Maximoff’s son. She hurt you, she hurt so many people. And I have her magic. I was born… (evil? Bad? he can’t bring himself to say it.)

And this is Agatha’s big moment, and the big emotional pay off for us. She says, Billy (the first time we hear his casual name spoken) — Never let anyone else’s fear of you decide who you are. Not mine, not anyone else’s. Never let anyone else tell you you’re horrible, or worthless, or evil. You get to decide who you are, and only you. If you want to be good… you can be. Do you understand?

She’s talking to him, but on some level she’s talking to herself, her own inner child. Does she believe that for herself yet? No, but I digress.

And maybe wryly she adds, because Agatha can’t be serious for too long and I want this line, “Besides, as we’ve already established, I don’t punish children for the sins of the mother.”

Didn’t mean to turn that into a whole fic but there you go. Anyway, Billy gets the message. The coven sees him and accepts him. Maybe there’s hugs. I’d like there to be hugs. We move on to Agatha’s real trial.

Tl;dr? Agatha Harkness is walking out of this Road with Billy Maximoff as her apprentice, goddamnit.

[skeltnwrites]

main fic | vampire!steve discovers his fangs 0.6k, cw suggestive themes

Steve gasps from the bathroom before calling, “Babe!” 

You’re intrigued but you’re also tired. The new sleep schedule to accommodate your newly nocturnal boyfriend hasn’t been an easy change.

“What!” you shout back. 

“Come here!” His inflection isn’t concerning but a part of you worries anyway. 

You groan rather dramatically and kick the blankets off the bed, slinking onto the floor and standing from there. 

The bathroom door is pushed open while you knead the sleep from your face. “Hmm?” 

Steve is buckled over the sink with a finger hooked in his mouth to hinge his jaw open. He studies his reflection carefully. You hope it’s not another cavity. He really has no reason for them now when his diet consists mostly of pigs' blood. 

“Look,” he slurs over his thumb, smearing the escaping line of drool with his free hand. 

He faces you when you approach, eager to show you the inside of his mouth like a little kid with a loose tooth. 

And you’re confused because it looks like a normal mouth until– “Holy shit!” 

He closes his mouth, equally bewildered. “I know!” 

You cup his chin softly, “Wait, open.” 

He obliges, revealing a much pointier set of pearls on either side of his canines. 

“What the fuck.” You crane in until you’re at eye level with his tongue, close enough to catch a strong whiff of spearmint. “Did they just grow in, or like, sharpen overnight?”  

“I guess? I dunno.”

A curious finger careens to poke, “Can I touch ‘em?” 

“They’re sharp. Careful.” 

You prod the point with the pad of your thumb. It hurts but you don’t press hard enough to draw blood. 

“Wow.” You lean back, fondly lingering on his lips for a beat after he seals them. “Do they hurt?” 

He shakes his head, tongue swiping across the top row of his teeth to check. Steve has a wild case of bedhead and toothpaste foam crusted at the corner of his lip but you’re pretty sure this is the most you’ve ever been attracted to him. 

You swallow a smile for just long enough to nimbly peck the end of his bottom lip, holding his wrist for stability. 

Kisses are like fuel to him; he blinks to life, a goofy grin stretching across his face. They’re also like crack– once he gets a taste, he can’t stop himself. He spoils your cheeks with love, several presses of affection from one side of your face to the other. A more proper good morning in his mind. 

Steve considers the mission successful when you’re in a fit of giggles and squirming away. He relaxes against the countertop and crosses his arms. “I think it was from a dream– like, I was dreaming about drinking blood, or something. I dunno, I don’t really remember.” 

“Oh?” you smirk, shifting to squish his leg in between each of yours. “Were you like… sucking someone’s neck?” Your pointer finger curls under the hem of his shirt playfully, knuckle grazing the pudge of his tummy. 

Steve’s cheeks blossom into a bright shade of pink and his eyes race away from yours. It’s funny to think how forward he used to be with flirting. Here you’ve turned him to mush with one line. 

You try to reign in your laugh, lest your poor boyfriend be embarrassed for too long. “You don’t have to tell me, Stevie.” 

“It wasn’t like that! It was– I was sucking your blood, yeah, but it wasn’t sexual, okay?” 

“Are you sure cause you seem really hot and both–” 

“Oh my God!” He drags you aside gently so he can flee to the bedroom. 

[kindersurprisebacterium]

Mister (Ghost/Reader)

CW: DILF Ghost, age gap, best friend's father, cunilingus, fingering, vaginal sex, overstimulation (kinda), alcohol use, reader is in college

Gender Neutral AFAB Reader

WC: 3.2k

On the corner of a caul-du-sac sat a cookie-cutter house. The front was adorned with terracotta brick walls. Nearly trimmed hedges and flower beds lined the driveway. It was suburbia. Different from the campus housing I was used to downtown. 

I was hesitant to come here. Sleepovers seemed…juvenile. But Audrey and I seemed to get along well, even after knowing each other for only two weeks. So I packed up a night’s worth of clothes and some toiletries and met her in the corridor after lecture. 

Her neighborhood was only fifteen minutes outside of the city. The speakers shook the car. Wind whipped through my hair as we sped down the highway. 

I felt odd being here, needless to say. Maybe it had to do with the fact that her dad would be home. I stepped out of her lifted truck, pulling my bag behind me. Her carabiner clinked as she unlocked the front door. I watched as she stepped inside and kicked off her shoes before following behind. 

“My rooms upstairs. You can put all your bags there.” Audrey said, pointing to the staircase. 

“Cool. You gotta show me that poster you were talking about” I grinned. She’d already started up the stairs. The hardwood creaked beneath my feet as I followed her. 

“I was in line for like…three hours? They cut the line of right after me.”

We turned down a corridor filled with picture frames. My eyes skimmed across each one. School pictures, beach trips, vacations abroad, and family photos that were obviously taken in a JC Penny. I jumped when my eyes met a pair of glaring brown irises. 

A man stood before me, leaning in the doorway of an office. Silver curls sat atop his head. Faded scars, years old by now, adorned his pale face. He had a stern look on his face, a look that was somewhere between apathy and annoyance. Maybe that was just his face. 

His arms, covered in intricate black ink, crossed over his broad chest. Even through a thick sweatshirt, I could tell he was well-built. My jaw clenched tightly as the man eyed me. 

“Oh dad, this is my friend from anthropology I was telling you about. They’re staying over tonight,” Audrey spoke up, gesturing to me with her painted nails. 

“Nice to meet you Mr. Riley,” I said, extending my hand. 

“Simon.” He gripped my hand and shook it with a jarring strength. His palms were big enough to nearly engulf my hand. He let go, sliding his hand into his pocket. I turned to face Audrey. She pulled me into her room, closing the door behind the both of us. 

She pulled a framed poster from the wall and held it out for me to see. In the bottom right corner in silver sharpie was a swirling signature from the lead singer of a metal band. 

“Isn’t it so cool?!”

I couldn’t focus on the movie, or the bottle of beer in my hand. My mind kept going back to Simon. I don’t know what it was about him. Maybe it was the way he looked at me as if I was nothing. Maybe it was his grip on my hand. Or his gruff voice.

I felt…embarrassed? I haven’t felt this way about someone since middle school. My mind kept replaying that moment in his head. The way he said his own name. The way his arms flexed when he crossed them over his chest. 

These scattered thoughts flooded my mind for hours. I couldn’t sleep. I glanced back at Audrey, who was out like a light with a puddle of drool on her pillow. Gritting my teeth, I slowly moved off of the mattress. My eyes stayed locked on her sleeping frame, looking for any sign of movement. Nothing. Sighing, I stepped out of the room. Maybe another drink would quell the thoughts. 

I crept down the hallway, walking on my toes. A beam of light caught my eye as I rounded the corner. The kitchen light was on. The steps whined beneath my weight as I descended. Brown eyes locked onto me. 

Simon sat at the kitchen island. His right hand was on his computer mouse, the other resting under his chin. He closed his laptop.

My skin felt hot as his eyes ran up and down my body. I tugged at the hem of my shorts, now acutely aware of how they rode up my thighs. 

“You’re up late,” he muttered. 

“I uh, couldn’t sleep,” I said with a smile that was a little too forced. I stepped into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge, jumping when I heard his chair moving from behind me. My fingers wrapped around the neck of another bottle. As I closed the fridge door, a head of grey hair appeared from behind it. 

He was closer now, leaning on the kitchen island with a glass in hand. 

“Anthropology…” he mumbled, “why’d you choose that?”

“It’s a part of my psychology course,” I explained as I twisted the top off of the bottle. I held the cap in my hand as I took a swig. The amber liquid made my throat tingle as I swallowed. This was more than I’d drank in a while, but I needed it if I wanted to deal with the man in front of me, the man who was slowly stepping closer. 

I could feel my heart in my ears as he approached the fridge. His arm bumped into me as he set his cup underneath the water fountain. Out of the corner of his eyes, he stared at me. My face felt hot. I pursed my lips, looking away hoping he wouldn’t see my flushed face. 

I heard his throat squelch as he swallowed, not daring to look. He sighed and reached his arm across me. The glass clinked as he set it in the sink. I was waiting for him to pull back, give me room to breathe, but he didn’t budge. My eyes traced up his inked arm, to his face. His eyes were fixated on me, staring through me. I felt naked under his gaze. 

“You’re shaking.” He placed a hand on my waist. If anything, his touch made it worse. My entire body was quivering. Whether from nerves or anticipation, I couldn’t tell. He stepped forward, close enough that his thighs brushed against my hip. 

“You’re shaking,” he repeated. His fingertips grazed my chin, gently tilting my head up to look at him. 

“I know.” My voice was barely a whisper. The corner of his lips curled up into a smirk. He was getting a kick out of this, and somehow that made it even hotter. 

“You nervous?” He asked. It didn’t seem like a question if he already knew the answer. His eyes flicked between my lips, and my eyes. Every time his eyes met mine, I could feel it in my stomach.

“I-” I couldn’t get the words out. His lips were on mine. The warmth of his kiss slowly melted away the tension in my muscles. By the time his hands were on my hips, I was putty in his grasp. I hooked my arms around his neck, pulling him down so I didn’t have to stand on my toes. His fingers slid into the waistband of my shorts. 

“Wait, I don’t want to wake Audrey,” I pushed my hands against his chest, breaking the kiss. 

“So we go to my room.” His tongue slid up my neck. The tips of his fingers grazed along my hipbones but didn’t date to go another inch forward. 

“But-”

“When’s the last time you’ve had a good fuck,” he asked, speaking against my neck. He punctuated his words with a kiss along my carotid. My lips pursed. I could feel my hands clench into fists. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this. Audrey was the first friend I’d made all year, and I didn’t want to jeopardize that. The throbbing in my core drew my attention. Every inch of my body craved his touch. My head was spinning with desire. My breath grew shallower, quicker, as lust swept over me in full force. I couldn’t take it. There was just something about him. I needed to feel him. 

“Please don’t tell her,” I begged. My fingers latched onto the collar of his sweatshirt. He pulled back, just to see the look on my face. My lips were parted, eyes half lidded, and I’m sure the blush on my cheeks had deepened to a red. 

“I wouldn’t dare.” He picked me up by my waist and slung me over his shoulder. His palm rested on the small of my back, while his other arm hooked around the back of my legs. Simon approached the stairs, giving my thighs a squeeze as he ascended. He turned right down the hallway. My eyes locked onto Audrey’s door. I could feel my jaw clenching. Should I really be doing this?

The bedroom door clicked shut behind us. My back met the plush bedding. The mattress creaked underneath my weight. Simon pulled his shirt over his head. His muscles were defined, illuminated by the soft lighting. Thickened scar tissue dotted his body like ivy on an old wall. I couldn’t help but feel intimidated as he crawled on the bed. 

He sat between my legs. His fingers idly stroked my inner thighs. His stubble scratched the skin of my neck as he leaned in. He pressed kisses to my neck, traveling up to my jaw. 

“Can I take these off?” He asked, tugging at the hem of my shorts. My stomach fluttered. 

“Yeah,” I spoke softly. He slipped his fingers beneath the waistband and began tugging, jolting my body as he pulled them down my hips. I felt my face heat up as his gaze locked onto my cunt. He swiped his index finger through the wetness pooling in my core. The tip of his finger brushed against my clit. A whine caught in my throat. 

“I just know you’re not gonna be good for me.” He moved to lie on his stomach. His sharp canines pierced the skin of my thighs. My teeth sunk into my bottom lip to quell the onslaught of moans. 

His thumb circled my clit. The movements were slow at first. His eyes locked onto my cunt, almost as if he was waiting for something. I bucked my hips into his hand, and then he stopped. I whined, pouting my lip.

Warm, wet licks against my skin diminished my protests. His hips rutted against the bed as he slowly ate me out. My brows furrowed as his tongue flicked against my clit in sharp movements. Fingertips circled around my entrance before slowly sliding in. He moaned against my cunt. I clamped my hand over my mouth in an attempt to muffle the cry that rose from my chest. 

Simon differed from anyone I’d slept with before. Foreplay was never a big part of my escapades, it was always straight to penetration. There was something about a man between my legs, moaning against my cunt, and looking up at me with pleading eyes that made my body heat up. 

Every movement of his was deliberate, from the way his fingers curled up ever so slightly with every thrust, to the way his palm rested on my stomach. It was as if he’d cast a spell on my limbs. My toes curled, fingers digging into the sheets. Each thought in my head slowly disappeared, replaced with the feeling of his tongue on my clit. I felt hot and sticky. Beads of sweat rolled down my chest. I gripped my shirt and pulled it from my body. 

His hand slid up my stomach until reaching my chest. He gripped my nipple between his index and thumb. My back arched off of the bed. His gaze seemed transfixed on me, soaking in my every reaction with those brown eyes. 

I tossed my head against the pillows. My stomach tensed as each flick of his tongue drew me further into bliss. His lips wrapped around my clit, sucking gently. My hand flew to his head, pulling his hair tight. A throbbing pain settled in my face as my eyes rolled to the back of my head. My muscles went taut as I came on his tongue. 

He pulled away, skin slick with my wetness. His fingers kept slowly pumping inside of me. He leaned in, pressing his lips to mine. I could taste myself on his skin. A whine swelled from within my throat. He slid another finger inside me, thrusting alongside the others.

“Simon,” I said against his lips. 

“Gotta make sure you can take me, love,” he groaned.

The nickname made my heart flutter in a way it shouldn’t. As the haze that clouded my head faded, I became acutely aware of what I was doing. I was fucking my friend’s dad. 

“You’re so tense. Come on, open up for me.” I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me or my cunt. My breath hitched when his mouth lowered to my chest. He gently bit down on my nipple, laughing at the way it made me squirm. His brows furrowed as he sucked my skin into his mouth. 

With a soft pop, he pulled off of my nipple, only to dive back in. He sunk his teeth into my skin. I clenched around his fingers, earning a groan from him. His thumb brushed against my sensitive clit. My voice contorted as the overstimulation made my head swim. 

“Fuck, there you go,” He spoke against my skin. “Such a pretty cunt.”

His words pushed me over the edge. I gushed around his fingers. My thighs quivered and clamped down around his hand. I took in heaving breaths as he worked me through my orgasm. I stared down at the man with half-lidded eyes. He smirked, watching my expression as I slowly came down from my high. 

The bed shifted as he moved. His grey hair vanished from my peripherals. The drawer to his nightstand slid open with a low rumble. I didn’t bother to turn my head. 

When he settled back onto the bed, his jeans were gone. My eyes skimmed down his nude body, settling on his cock, which was now resting on my stomach.

He was right. It was big. The heat that radiated off of his skin drew my thoughts into more perverted places. The head of his cock was flushed and leaking. A single silver barbell protruded from the head of his cock. He lifted my hips and slid a pillow underneath me. 

“You on the pill?” He asked, popping open the cap to a bottle of lube. 

“Yes.” I watched him slide the lube over his cock. 

“Good, cause I don’t have any condoms.”

He pushed one of my knees to my chest. His hand guided his cock to my entrance. With his eyes locked onto me, he slowly pushed inside of me. It burned, almost felt stabbing. I clenched my jaw and gripped his wrist. His hips halted. 

“You okay?” His thumb gently stroked my knee with a tenderness that drew my attention away from the pain. 

“It hurts,” I said through my teeth. 

“We can stop-”

“Please keep going,” I interrupted. He stared at me with wide eyes. With a nod, he pushed forward. 

The stabbing pain faded into a more manageable cramping pain. I felt undeniably full. He let go of my leg, instead moving to my stomach to gently stroke my skin. He whispered praises as he sunk deeper inside me. My brows knit as he bottomed out. His hips stilled, eyes fixated on my cunt. 

“That’s it, bein’ so good for me.” He groaned. I clenched around his cock, earning a grunt from his heaving chest. 

“Simon, please move,” I crossed my ankles behind his back. 

He shifted his weight onto his hands, placing them on either side of my head. 

“Since you asked so nicely…”

He began thrusting his hips into me at a steady pace. Every jolt of his hips made the mattress squeal beneath us. The sound of our skin slapping echoed throughout the room. He was rough and forceful, bullying his cock deeper into me. 

His moans were deep and gravely. Every little noise that came out of him sounded like music. I hooked my arms around the back of his neck, pulling him down to my level. His lips clashed against mine, tongue licking against my bottom lip. I parted my lips for him. A moan slipped from me as he slid his tongue into my mouth. 

Tears welled in my eyes as the stimulation grew. I wanted more, needed more of him. I bit down on his lip and pulled back, tugging his skin. Something changed in him then. He pulled away and gripped onto the headboard, using the leverage to thrust harder into me. His eyes screwed shut. I could feel him twitch from inside me. 

I Clenched around his cock, stomach tensing as my third orgasm rapidly approached. He gripped my chin between his fingers.

“Fuck, you gonna cum?” He asked with his plush lips parted. 

My response was an incoherent mess of words and a frantic nod. His thumb went to my clit. He rubbed tight circles into my skin, encouraging me to cum, begging even. I knew he wouldn’t last long with the way his thrusts grew erratic. 

With a snap of his hips, I came on his cock, squeezing around him. He grunted, stilling inside me as he came. A stream of moans rose from my throat.

My body felt tingly like tv static as every nerve in my body fired. I felt overstimulated, hot, and sore. I whined as he pulled out. The bed shook as he collapsed onto his side. 

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and held the screen out to me. It was a “new contact” page. I smirked as I put my number in under the contact labeled “Derek”

“Derek…who are you gonna tell them I am when that name pops up on your screen?” I asked, swinging my leg over his hips.

“Old coworker.” He said with a laugh. 

“Old coworker with bomb pussy?” I raised my eyebrows and pouted, scanning his face for a reaction. He smiled and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. 

“Audrey’s going on vacation with her mom in a couple weeks. Why don’t you come over then?” He ran his hand along my back. 

“I’d love to, but speaking of which, I need to get back.” I sat up, grabbing my shorts from the foot of the bed. 

I threw my clothes on and hastily tossed my sweat soaked hair into an updo. My fingers grasped the doorknob, gently pulling it open. I waved at Simon before slipping into the hall. As the door closed behind me I sighed.

My brain replayed every minute of our interaction over and over again. The way he touched me with care, got off on eating me out, and checked in on me. What seemed to be basic decency was something I’d been lacking. My stomach fluttered as I thought of seeing him in a couple of weeks. I didn’t regret this, in fact I wanted more of this. 

What did I get myself into.

Masterlist

[xhollandlilsx]

Interview Shenanigans - (Bella Ramsey x Reader)

Summary: Set after TLOU2 has been made and released, Reader plays a character in Dina’s spot. (Sorry Dina).

Warnings: N/A

“Hi I’m Y/N” I smiled at the camera, as I held a bunch of question cards in my hands.

“And I’m Bella, and we are here with moviefone” The brunette next to me beamed holding a set of cards themself.

“And we are gonna be answering some questions, that you guys sent in on instagram and twitter, and then we’re gonna go unscripted and ask our own questions” I nodded looking at them and tilting my head to ask if they were ready, to which they mocked what I was doing and tilted their head too, “I guess we’re ready..”

********

“From Nina W, on Twitter, great question, ‘Did you learn any archery for the role of Ellie?’” I read it aloud, looking at Bella at the end, tapping my non existent nails on the cards in my hand that we had previously written down our unscripted questions.

“I tried, I mean you tried to teach me” Bella laughed slightly at the afternoon I tried to teach them what my dad taught me, and how badly it went, “But no, it’s just.. no.”

“Yeah, I remember you snapped it against your wrist” I laughed holding the cards up to hide it.

“Moving on” They groaned rolling their eyes, “From, Daniel H, on Instagram, ‘Did you manage to steal anything off set Y/N?”

“…” I just let out a laugh before composing myself, “Everything on that set is so expensive, so I think if I were to steal anything, I would get shot. That said… I might’ve taken a certain bracelet…if you know you know.”

“You heard it here folks, Y/N is a thief” They told the camera bringing their lips into a thin line, before looking at me and shaking their head.

“Don’t even pull that one Bella, Ellie’s converse are literally in my wardrobe from when you stole them” I pointed at them, my rings clinking together.

“Wow! Way to out me.” Bella laughed and adjusted their rolled up sleeves.

“We go down together darling.”

***

“Ooo unscripted, let’s be having it, ask me anything Bella.” I challenged turning my body to face them.

“Hmm okay, I actually wanna know this one, when did you realise you weren’t heterosexual?” They asked, before moving that card to the back of the pile.

“Damn, loaded question, I honestly can’t even remember, there’s a lot of women to thank for that,” I smiled, “But I think I was about 13 and I was watching ‘Bend it like Beckham’ and I saw Kiera Knightley or Jade West… has a uh, special place in my heart”

“I’ve actually never seen that film, but I have seen her in Pirates Of The Caribbean and I don’t blame you” They laughed slightly and shrugged.

“We’ll watch it.” I told them and nodded, “Okay, okay, from Mason M on Instagram, ‘What was your favourite non action scene to shoot?’”

“Wow, I like that one, hm, maybe the weed room scene” They mumbled scratching the back of their neck and side eyeing me, to which I let out a laugh, “No no, I think….I think the farm scenes were quite fun, they were cute, or the scene where Ellie finds out Maisie is pregnant”

“Aw I liked that one too” I smiled, and bounced my knee, something I usually did in interviews due to how uncomfortable cameras made me, ironic isn’t it?

“Yeah, the ‘Don’t worry it’s not yours’ always gets me” We both laughed and mumbled to eachother, stuff the camera definitely isn’t picking up on.

“I did like the farm scenes though, especially the one where they’re dancing in the kitchen” I smiled and looked at them with a knowing look, knowing the two of us do that quite alot, randomly dancing around the kitchen to Alexa, while the other is doing something.

“Yeah, that one’s cute” Bella nodded and saw another unscripted pop up on the screen to the side of the camera.

“Unscripted.” I smiled and picked up my cards flopping through them and sighing at how none of them are exciting anymore, so I put them down and brought a hand to my bottom lip messing with it like I usually did while in thought, “See I already know everything about you, so I’m really only asking this for people watching.”

“True true”

“Okay, if the apocalypse were to break out tomorrow, who would you want with you and why?” I asked with a shrug, knowing the question wasn’t good but giving up.

“You. Probably” They squinted closing one eye as they looked at me, messing with one of their earrings.

“Really? Why?”

“Well I mean, you’re good at archery, and you’re pretty much a real life version of my character so I think my odds are better with you, plus, as corny as it sounds I don’t think I’d last without seeing you” They smiled with a shrug laying the cards face down in their lap now.

“Aw that was so cringy but I loved it. And love, you are giving me way too much credit” I laughed.

“Okay who would you not want to be with if it happened?” They asked crossing a leg over their other one resting their ankle on their knee.

“Ki, probably” I scrunched my nose up, knowing he would probably agree but still pretend to be hurt.

“Yeah, he’s not apocalypse material”

“He’s really not. If you don’t know Ki plays Jesse in the show, who is a badass yeah, but Ki is the total opposite. No hard feelings though, love you bro” I laughed as Bella did too both of us covering our smiles with the cards, “Dude cried watching Mamma Mia.”

***

“Last question for both of us here. ‘When did you realise you were interested in eachother and who made the first move?’” They read it out to which I just bought my fingers to the bridge of my nose, Bella and I were quite open about our relationship, but I was an expert at showing the fans everything but nothing, never truly showing them anything other than a random photo here and there.

“When did you realise you liked me?” I asked, a question I already knew the answer to, a question I asked months ago while we were half awake in bed.

“The moment I met you” They smiled slightly eyes trained on me now, from my hair in a messy bun with curled pieces hanging down and framing my face, and falling out of the bun, to my dark green waistcoat, down to my rings and my matching trousers.

“Go on”

“We first met a day before we had to film the snowball fight scene, and we had to do that bonding thing, and you came over and introduced yourself to me with so much confidence and I remember just thinking ‘this girls so cool’ and I was just infatuated” They cringed.

“I acted confident but I was so nervous” I told the camera.

“Why were you nervous?” They asked me looking at me like I had two heads.

“Because I thought you were cute” I replied tilting my head and looking at them, their brown eyes I could get lost in every time.

“I swear I hate you sometimes” They groaned as they rubbed their cheeks to hide the smile that just wouldn’t go away from the camera.

“No you don’t” I winked and we both looked back at the camera.

***

“Thanks to Moviefone for having us. I now want a McDonalds so I will meet you in the car” I told them before standing up and walking off to grab my bag from the chair behind the cameras and directors of the interview.

“I…” Bella watched me walk away leaving them on their own in front of the camera, to which they let out a laugh, “She serious?”

Once they said their goodbyes, they walked over to me shaking their head and nudging me.

A/N: Using they/them pronouns for a fan fiction is still new to me, so please bare with me, and if there’s any gendered pronouns in there please ignore them. Anyway I had this idea, that sounded better in my head but here you go none the less.

[crimson-and-clover-1717]

The first time I saw Stede held at gunpoint by Chauncey, I believed it might be a night terror. They’re repeating the Nigel guilt-ghost motif, I thought. Or even his fever-induced nightmares. This is what Stede does. Big emotions writ large shouting the worst parts of his self-loathing. The words Chauncey says is probably the exact noise playing in Stede’s head. In fact he ‘completely agree[s]’. The repeated death-injury to the eye, and Stede’s subsequent amnesic journey home, barefoot in underclothes, just seemed to play out perfectly as a full-blown, hallucinatory panic-attack.

And then I realised the consensus was this event likely occurs, it truly happens within the narrative. Stede also remembers both Badminton brothers alongside the line ‘I’ve been the cause of death.’

Fast forward to 204, and Stede doesn’t mention the event to Ed during the couch scene. I’ve said before it wasn’t the right time to say ‘…but, Chauncey’. However, it did happen, didn’t it? And Stede does need to tell Ed eventually. Because then it might mitigate some of Stede’s responsibility… right?

Well, I’m not sure we’re looking at it from the best angle.

Chauncey arriving at the barracks to kill Stede is likely meant to be understood as real within the fictional setting of the show. But this is a magical realist world, and Chauncey’s turning up did not occur in the same way as it would in our reality. There is a different significance and meaning.

I think two seemingly-contrary things can exist here: Chauncey really did show up of his own choice, and Stede is somewhat responsible for his showing up, because this could be read as a metaphysical event. Stede partly manifests Chauncey. The show often uses mirrors as a way of exploring identity, and Stede is right in the middle of an identity crisis. Chauncey is an accurate reflection of Stede’s internal chaos, a judgmental dark angel on his shoulder. And until Stede is able to go back to Bridgetown, and deal with the guilt and mess of leaving his family, Badminton brothers, cousins, and half-uncles are going to keep showing up, insulting Stede at the deepest level, then Darwining themselves in front of him.

The lesson here, I think, is we help create our own reality: if you do what you’ve always done, you’ll get what you’ve always got. Stede needs to change his internal narrative to free himself from this twisted pattern.

It’s not that Stede deserves the bullying of the Badminton brothers; he absolutely doesn’t. But his state of mind lays the groundwork for the external manifestation of his thoughts within this universe. Chauncey is the personification of Stede’s self-loathing, and Stede co-creates the situation, somehow drawing Chauncey (and Nigel) towards him. As a character within a fictional world we are being asked to watch Stede’s transformation after this event, and one of those changes is his breaking this particular cycle.

That is why I’m not too bothered if Stede ever tells Ed about Chauncey. Like someone once said similarly of god, if Chauncey didn’t exist, it might be necessary for Stede to invent him. Chauncey’s intervention gives Stede a sort of permission to act as he does. There is no mitigation for Stede here. He has to own it, no matter how distorted his thinking at the time; and he does just that to Ed later without resorting to sackcloth and ashes.

The complexity of what happens that night might well be outside of physical reality. It’s Ed returning from the gravy basket largely unscathed. Or Buttons becoming a bird. It isn’t easy to understand fully because the laws that govern our reality are suspended here. But our role as viewers isn’t to reach a definitive conclusion or worry ourselves in circles over narrative gaps. It’s to consider what the Chauncey event triggers and then leads to.

This is Stede’s rock-bottom. From here on in, we see character growth in which Stede overcomes a good portion of the self-loathing lurking within his soul, replacing it with a kinder internal narrative, and helping him in turn to love and be loved. And Stede has also hopefully exorcised the possibility of any future Badminton visitations.

Stede returns, and he returns a better man than he left because he did much of the internal work he needed to do.

He changes his stars - and Ed’s. That’s all that matters.

[bullet-prooflove]

Poker Face: Dwight Manfredi x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @youngadult9016 @skellyagogo @sca3a @kenbechillin 

Companion piece to:

Dior - Dwight wakes up to the scent of Dior and lipstick on his chest.

Gunpowder & Roses - Dwight's enemies make a mistake when they come after you.

Dwight meets you at a high stakes poker game, one that’s run out of a three grand a night hotel suite. They’re about to overhaul the Bred-2-Buck, turn it into a cabaret & casino focusing on a different type of clientele, the type that’ll think nothing about dropping a couple of mill in one evening. To do that he needs you.

You run the most exclusive card games in town, poker players fly in from all over the country to spend their money at your table. It’s an invite only affair with private security ensuring that nobody gets a stupid idea in their head. He’s managed to secure a place through Margaret because she’s a little sweet on him.

When he steps through the door, his gaze immediately fixates on you because simply put, you are the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on.

 A face carved out by God himself and a body made for sin, you make his heart rate spike within three seconds of meeting you. He’s not sure if it’s the black, open backed dress that clings to every single one of your curves, the sheer shrug that accentuates your shoulders or the heels, that have fuck me written all over them.

“Mr Manfredi.” You greet him and his eyes linger on your pert red lips before you lean forward and air kiss both of his cheeks.

The scent of your perfume floods his senses as your body brushes lightly against his. It’s dark, sensual, alluring and he almost misses it when you draw away, his hands still clasped in yours. 

“You sure put together one hell of an operation.” He says, his critical eye sweeping over the room. You smile at the compliment and his entire world, it just lights the hell up.

“We can talk business after the game.” You say gesturing at the poker table with six other people already sitting around it. “Let’s see how well you play.”

Dwight’s spend twenty five years hustling luxuries out of other inmates in prison through card games, he’s pretty confident in his abilities, that is until you wipe the floor with him. Just when he thinks he’s got a bead on your tell, you prove him wrong, every single time.

“You’ve got a mean poker face.” He tells you at the end of the night after everyone else is gone.

He’s taken off his suit jacket, unbuttoned the first two buttons of his crisp white shirt. You watch from the sofa as he pours the two of you a glass of bourbon that’s older than both him.

You’re such a pretty sight, your shoes have been kicked off, your legs tucked up underneath you. His eyes flicker up to your face as you pull the silver hairpin, threaded with diamond dahlias out of your hair and it tumbles across your shoulders. He wonders what it would be like to run his hands through it, his soft it would feel between his fingers.  

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one serving you?” You ask him as he hands you the bourbon, taking up residence alongside you on the couch.

“I’ve got the feeling you don’t bow to any man.” He states as he kinks his glass against yours.

“No.” You say with an amused smile. “They usually bow to me.”

If that doesn’t get his cock rock hard…

“I have a proposal.” Dwight says, shifting so his arm comes to rest on the back of the couch, his body angled towards you. “I’d like you to consider running your games out of my place.”

“And why Mr Manfredi, would I do that?” You ask taking a sip of bourbon.

“Bottom line.” He says knowingly. “The hotel suite, the private security. All of it takes a nice big bite out of your profit. We’re rebuilding the Buck, we can give you a backroom for privacy…”

You laugh then and Dwight pauses as you gesture to the space around you.

“The storage room of your bar isn’t quite up to the standard my poker players are used to Mr Manfredi.”

“Dwight.” He says, placing his hand over his heart in a gesture of companionship. “We’re about to renovate it, turn it into a casino and cabaret. We’re happy to design the backroom to your exact specifications if you’ll consider coming on board as a partner.”

“Dwight.” You say, meeting his gaze as you cradle the glass to your chest. “I don’t need a partner.”

“But you do need legitimacy.” He points out, swilling around the ice cubes inside of his glass. “I have a gambling licence which means all the games you run will be above board. It’s less risk, more reward in the long run.”

Now that is something you’re interested in, he can tell from that spark in your eyes.

“What’s the cut?” You ask him because you’re a practical woman, you know shit like this is usually quid pro quo.

“No cut.” He states and your lips purse together in surprise. “You keep everything from your entry fees to the money you win at these games. All I want is for you to bring the whales to our door. You bait and I’ll hook.”

“I get final say on the renovations.” You try to negotiate and Dwight shakes his head.

“Joint sign off.” He bats back. “There’s another partner Mitch Keller, I need for him to be involved in this just as much as you and me. It was his idea to come to you, it’s his place we’re fixing up.”

There’s silence for a moment while you consider the offer.

“Alright we have deal.” You say before you set your drink down on the coffee table and reach for your purse, withdrawing the red lipstick. “I’ll leave you my number so you can contact me about signing the paperwork.”

“Sure, I…” You climb into his lap, straddling his hips and he’s rendered speechless for a moment as you begin to undo the buttons of his shirt, revealing his bare chest.

“You’re a big boy can’t you?” You whisper in his ear as you grind down on his stiffening cock, his palms come to rest on your thighs gripping them as his head tips back onto the couch. “I can tell.”

“I’m told I’m a lot to take.” He admits, his fingertips trailing under the hem of your dress as you uncap the lipstick and begin to write your number on his chest.

“I’m sure we’ll be able to figure it out.” You promise him as you admire your handiwork. “Afterall, that’s what partners are for right?”

Love Dwight? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[meowhara]

࿐.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒃𝒚𝒔𝒔 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑨𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒆

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ miguel o’hara x fem siren!reader

cw : blood and gore (not much but still)

synopsys : miguel's residence was a unique one, though nobody knew the existence of a deadly being inhabiting beneath it

It was always the same question whenever anyone visited his house. They’re always wondering why it was built like that. Some parts of his house where the tiles should be, were replaced by thick glasses. Clear enough to see the deep blue water underneath. His house was practically built over a gigantic man made body of water. It wasn’t an empty body of water either, there was life thriving underneath. The variety of fishes no matter what sizes or kind live there with coral reefs and underwater plants for the aquatic creatures to live in. Making a whole complete living underwater ecosystem.

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t understand what?” Miguel huffed, his back facing the man that considered him a friend just because they met back in college.

“You. Look at this place.”

“Was that supposed to be an insult?” He popped open a bottle of fine alcohol and poured a glass for himself, then leaned on the kitchen’s counter before taking a sip.

“No… Not really.” The man reverts his gaze to the wide window behind Miguel. The marine life beyond that window was just stunning. For somebody like Miguel, having this kind of lifestyle wouldn’t be anyone’s first guess.

Miguel rolled his eyes from his reply, walking off from the counter with his drink before walking upstairs. “Would you mind leaving? I’m busy.” He scowled.

“Why? Are you hiding something?”

Miguel’s eyes twitched, isn’t he just polite?

He set himself down on a couch in the middle of the room. The living room was a unique one. There’s a spot where the tiles are supposed to be, left absent and empty. Leaving a literal two rectangular pool connected to each other’s ends, with a wide angle where an “L” shaped marine blue sofa that stretches for at least three meters long on both of its sides. A coffee table made out of thin marble with an oval shape in the center which was also in blue, decorated with gold lining.

The pool, oddly, is a wide one. It was made so that a whole human could slip through it, rather than for decorational purposes. Nobody really pointed it out in the past though, it seems to be a normal thing for anyone to have in their home if they had the money for it. Most people would drown from how deep the pool is if they're not careful. The bottom of the pool was out of the question from how deep it was intentionally made.

The ceiling was high above with water flowing down, forming a thin wall made out of water. Flowing down onto the same pool in the middle of the room. Tall windows on one end of the house, showcasing the breathtaking beauty of Nueva York, especially at night.

His eyes focused on the ill-mannered man he barely knows. Watching each one of his moves carefully.

“Don’t you have a Girlfriend?”

“Broke up.” He answered quickly as the man stood before him after he finished strolling around uninvitedly.

“How did you get your hands on these types of creatures anyway? I’ve never even seen some of the fishes you have swimming around underneath these tiles.” He tapped his feet onto the transparent material underneath his feet. The fishes swam away from the loud thumping noises of his feet.

“I have my own way.” He spoke before taking another sip.

“Illegal?”

“No.” After a long pause, he continues, “Would you mind doing me a favor?” Miguel added.

“What favor?”

“Taking a few steps away?”

“What? Why?”

He shrugged, “Personal space.”

“Geez.” Unsuspectingly, he took a few steps back until his feet were almost touching the edge of the floating platform.

A low whistle escapes Miguel’s mouth seconds before a creature with high speed emerges from underneath the water. Slamming the unsuspecting man into the ground, knocking air out of his lungs. He felt its sharp fangs digging into his flesh with the creature’s weight pushing him forcefully onto the ground. A creature with a human-like body and a massive fin instead of legs hisses their sharp fangs at him, their hair long with water dripping down. Its eyes are as dangerous as the dark mysterious sea, ready to devour him at any second. The man’s eyes widened in sheer panic as he tried to push whatever it was away.

A smile plastered across the host’s face. Calmly sipping all the remaining wine into his system with his back relaxing against his seat. The man screamed, fighting for his life. He even begged for Miguel to save him. But he was too busy watching your beautiful form ripping flesh out of your prey’s body with your mouth. Watching his pet feasting on her favorite meal of the day. His screams died down eventually. The scene was a complete mess, chunks of meat everywhere with a mixture of blood and water splattered across the floor.

Miguel set the empty glass in his hand down before standing up and closing the distance between the both of you slowly. When you saw him approaching you and your meal, you hissed at him.

“Easy there, cupcake.” He scoffed, “I’m not going to steal him away.”

He stood there as you possessively dragged the remaining of your meal back into the pool. Drowning it with you. “That brat.” The word came out from his mouth followed by a chuckle and a shake of his head.

“Lyla, clean this shit up for me.” He commanded the programmed woman.

“You're spoiling her Miguel.” She complained, her hollow body flickering in the dim lit room.

“I'm not. My baby got what she deserves.”

This has been going on for a pretty long time. People disappeared after entering his home, especially the uninvited ones. Although, there are some exceptions. There is someone that loves crashing into his place.

“How many times did I tell you to stop coming here?” His arms crossed over his chest as he scolded the only person that would leave his abode unharmed.

“It's not my fault you made this place very interesting.”

“That was not a reason for you to keep coming here every time I went to work.”

“Aww, don't brothers share?” Gabriel teased.

“I hate you.” Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“I won't be coming here ever again.”

Miguel raised his eyebrow, unamused by his little brother's promise.

“I won't be coming here ever again, if you let me have a party here.”

“No.” He didn't even think before the answer left his mouth.

“Then I'll pester you until the end of my life.”

“Go on then. I would rather you bother me rather than inviting people here.”

“Come on, my friends would love this place.”

Miguel's eyes were not focused on him after he saw a glimpse of your eyes inside the pool from where he's standing. He saw the hunger in your eyes upon looking at his brother, a tasty meal for your kind. He knew this would happen that's why he never invited anyone over except for your feeding time every once in a while.

But there's no way he would let you feast on his own family, he shook his head with a serious look on his face. He knew that you would listen to him either way, so he sighed as he watched you disappeared before his eyes.

“If you still want to live, leave.” Miguel spoke with a firm tone in his voice.

“But—”

“I said no to your stupid party and that's final. Leave before I told Lyla to never let you in here ever again.”

“You would ban me from coming here just because of this?”

“Gabriel.” He warned, insisted on letting him stay and telling him the reason why was never the best move to pull no matter what the situation is. Miguel watches as he leaves, listening to his brother swearing under his breath before the door shut by itself. The sound of small waves of water followed by ripples of water made Miguel turn his body to look at your head peeking out of the pool with a frown evident on your face. Breaking his heart from how sad you look after not getting what you wanted, he hates disappointing you.

Your eyes were fixed on the door, hoping your walking food would come back. “I know baby, I know. I'm sorry, okay? But you can't eat him.” He lowers himself to touch your face, gently caressing your cheek. You keep your head fixed on the door without hissing at Miguel. Human language is a foreign one to your ears, you can't understand anything, just a few basic words. Miguel was fully aware of this so he repeated himself. The certain word will always taste bitter to his mouth when it comes to pleasing you. “No baby, you can't eat him.”

Your frown worsens from the word ‘no’. You're not sure what it means, all you understand is that every time the word escapes his mouth, he won't let you get what you desire. “I'll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise.”

After that, he fed you even more men to satisfy your hunger. Their bodies sunk into the abyss of water where the monster he fell in love with abode.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Yandere Tex Johnson x Reader x John Wick round robin part 4 WIP

With my evil geniuses @treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake 😈😈😘😘

Readers: this is our working doc for part 4. If you're new here, see the Masterlist (it's at the bottom), and WARNING, doves are dropping dead everywhere around here!! NSFW, yandere sh!t, 18+, plz take care!

They’re trying to kill you.

That is the thought that plays through your mind as Tex takes you to the top of the mountain with that wicked tongue, only to pull back at the last moment. Again, and again, he drives you to madness with long hard licks and wet little flicks over your clit, two of those thick fingers buried inside your needy little cunt. The bed is soaked beneath you; your thighs have begun to tremble uncontrollably; your throat is hoarse from the violence of the moans he forces from your throat.

That you could be a stone, hard and unyielding and unaffected by any of this.

But you’re just a woman made of flesh and blood, and these two men may as well have read the book on how exactly to stretch you down that fine line between heaven and hell.  

After edging you for the umpteenth time Tex wipes his mouth your thigh with a satisfied smirk, those dark eyes burning up at you. “You ready for me, honey?”

You know you resemble a haggard and small creature of the woods, your eyes huge and tear-filled as you look up at him. You should be proud, that a part of you still wants to tell him to go to hell. But some little voice warns you from the back of your head, that you wouldn’t survive it.

Language isn’t really working for you right now. All you can manage is a plaintive whine that makes him smirk down at you. Someday you bargain with yourself. Someday, you’ll figure out how to make them pay for this. But right now…you’re helpless. And so you might as well…

Your thoughts stop dead as Tex unzips his jeans. Your gaze follows that leading line of dark hair down, and you lay eyes on just what this man has in store for you. You’re not sure if the whimper you make is out of anticipation, or fear.

“Shh,” says John from behind you. You hadn’t forgotten about him, of course, his hands still full of your breasts. “You’ll be fine.” Easy for him to say, and from the firm bulge that keeps pressing your cheek with your head in his lap, you can tell he’s not going to be any easier on you either.

Tex sizes you up with that smoldering gaze, as though he’s plotting something nefarious. Just that look makes you ache all over again, even while you tremble with nerves.

“Goddamn,” he grumbles, almost to himself as he pumps himself in his hand, spreading the beads of precum from his tip. “You sure you don’t want a piece of this, Johnny?”

You’re not really sure what he means by that, and you look up at John with wide eyes, what has become your knee-jerk reaction when you seek assurance, or mercy. You forgot that right now, at least, he has none left for you. His sharp look aimed down at you is nothing less than that of a hungry wolf.

“Would you do that for me, sweet girl?” he asks, stroking you from the tips of your nipples up to your hair. That one touch makes you writhe, and the corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk.

With those big hands on your hips Tex flips you onto all fours, manhandling you into position exactly as he pleases. As he presses his length against the seam of your buttocks, grinding, your arms already begin to shake.

When John unzips his pants you begin to understand what they have in mind.

“Think you can handle us both, darlin’?” asks Tex, his hand lightly smoothing over the curve of your freshly bruised ass.     

“She can do it,” John answers for you, sweeping your hair away from your face to turn your eyes up to his. He kisses you, coaxing you with his tongue, dragging your lower lip lightly with his teeth. “For me?” You hate yourself so much, for finding that you don’t want to disappoint him. You blink up at him, at a loss for words. But just slightly, you feel yourself nod, and he smiles at you like you have just signed your soul away to this wicked man.  

With hands bracketing your head he guides you down to his massive erection. You take the velvety soft skin of his glans like a strawberry between your lips, licking messily before his light fingers on the back of your head guide you down. Simultaneously you savor Tex’s thick tip at your weeping entrance, your aching pussy craving to be stretched and ruined, before slowly he slides himself inside. He’s damn near gentle with you at first, as much as he can be with a cock like a weapon of massive destruction. Maybe it’s because of the mouthful you’ve got on the other end, or maybe…he’s savoring it too.

“Such a sweet little pussy,” he groans, working himself inside. “So tight and wet for me. Fuck.” Your answering moan is echoed all around, the cause and effect of Tex’s thrust driving you deeper onto John’s cock, to the very back of your throat, making you gag a little. The back and forth of it would almost have been comical, if not for the bone-melting madness overtaking the three of you in your quest for that ultimate release. For the moment your enmity with these men is forgotten. There is just flesh, and friction, and the promise of something absolutely incandescent on the horizon.  

When Tex’s thick fingers slide between your legs to tease your nub you double down, clenching him fiercely inside you, so desperate to cum. It makes him swear behind you, pinching your clit in revenge. You see stars, so close to finally going to pieces. “Gaddamn, honey. I think you’d break a lesser man with that thing.”

You can’t tell him to shut up, so you moan in answer, the vibration on John’s cock causing him to buck up into your mouth, his long fingers grasping at your hair. You push your ass further up in the air in offering, tilting your hips, chasing your pleasure on Tex’s fingers with his manhood filling you to the hilt, and you minding your teeth all the while. Who knew you were such a champion multitasker? You deserved a fucking medal.

Tex’s thrusts grow more erratic behind you. His voice has dropped an octave, turned to pure gravel as he asks, “You close, baby?”

You’re not sure how he interprets your answering groan, but when his hips snap against you, filling you with the hot rush of his seed, it’s exactly the angle and the pressure you need. The explosion of scintillating warmth fills your womb and spreads outward, all the way to the tips of your fingers. John’s strong hands on your shoulders are all that save you from collapsing on him, as he spills salty cum into your mouth. You shudder with your aftershocks as you swallow him down, Tex’s fingers gripping your hips so hard you know you’ll have bruises.

To say you collapse is an understatement. The three of you lay curled together as though you are nearly dead, unable to move for several minutes more. It’s John who recovers first, not shy about kissing you with his mitt of a hand holding your cheek, sliding down your neck, then teasing your nipple. You cry out for the overstimulation, squirming away, and Tex’s broad chest rumbles with low laughter behind you.  

“See,” says Tex sleepily, always having to get in the last word. “I knew you’d cum ‘round.”

“If I could move, I would kick you,” you grumble, even as you nestle down on his arm beneath you, the swell of his bicep your pillow.

“Sticks and stones, rattlesnake,” he fires back softy into your hair, just this side of the line between awake and asleep.

“I’m going to gag you both,” John threatens, sounding just as tired, his hand on your waist. When you look to him through heavy lashes you see the slight curve of his smile, his dark eyes all for you.

You all fall into a deep slumber before he has to make good on the threat.

--------

points at @treedaddymcpuffpuff This is all her fault! 🤣 Batter up @sweetwolfcupcake :)))))))))))))))))))))))))