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fanzou · 8 hours ago

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It’s a Match!

✗ Pairing: Zoro Roronoa x Fem!Reader

✗ Summary: Lost in an annoying town full of annoying good-for-nothing people, Zoro seeks refuge in an odd looking tent, only to find that it belongs to the towns famous match-maker!

✗ Total WC: 7.0K

✗ CW: SMUT! Zoro is in fact an eater, Zoro in disguise? (Not really), Cunnilingus, P in V sex, Soft Zoro (just a lil bit), Most of this is just smut, ZORO UNMATCHED LIBIDO

✗ A/C: This was such a random thought in my head but I feel like I did so well executing it. I’m hoping you guys like it just as much as I liked writing it!

It’s so nice; The Sunny is really living up to its name right now. The fire-y orb in the sky makes his skin impossibly warmer and it feels wonderful. He rests his hands behind his head and his eyes are closed—both eyes.

Even the waters below don’t crash against the boat so harshly. It doesn’t rock the floating chunk of wood so much to the point that it’s unbearable to even rest as he is, like he wants to.

He doesn’t hear any bombarding voices or obnoxiously loud steps or bangs, not that he isn’t used to it, he’ll sleep right through it because he knows it’s just the ruckus and havoc caused by the usual three idiots doing constant idiotic stuff. But there isn’t any alarming or annoying commotion right now and it makes the peace all the more peaceful, if that was possible.

It’s almost too good to be true, he grunts before he has to involuntarily peel his one eye open and scope the scenery out so that he wasn’t missing any secret attack.

Okay…

Fine. Everything’s fine. And he slowly shuts his eye once more.

It’s not like this everyday and Zoro is eternally grateful for this peaceful afternoon.

And rest he does, in pure bliss with the sun shining off of his defined skin with no havoc to be wreaked and no cook to engage in annoying banter with.

For like… 5 minutes.

“Zoro! Get up!” Luffy calls, jumping up and down unavoidably disturbing what he yearned for most, “We’re here!”

Welp, all good things must come to an end right?

Even for the time it was, and he knew for a fact that it was still noon, the lights of the town that inhabited the land still somehow illuminated very brightly. A headache. He gets up finally to wake himself up just a little bit more and he looks around to see almost everyone gathered and ready for the next stop. “Zoro! You finally up?”

He stretches his muscles a bit and fixes his yukata as he does so, “Yeah…m’up.” He says, there’s a little tiredness in his voice.

And now as they near the inescapable flashy lights and overly-decorated scene, he feels even less willing to jump off board and continue his travels with the crew. They’ve talked about this place for the past two days, and none of it seemed intriguing in the way they had described it to be.

Nothing intriguing, and nothing worth mentioning the second they make their way back to the ship.

Which is why he’s more than willing to keep watch of it while they do their own little thing.

“You guys can take this one. M’just gonna stay on board for the time being.” He makes an attempt to walk away before Luffy’s already starting his complaints.

“But you can’t! You have to come, it’ll be fuuuuun! Zoroooooooo!” He yells, because when is Luffy ever not yelling, and grabs hold of his muscles from across the ship with his gum-gum powers.

It’s comedic, laughable. Luffy really is persistent, and it’ll surprise many to believe that his persistence is enough to persuade the big, bad swordsman.

“Usopp said that the food here is amazing! Please, you can’t miss out on this one, c’mon!”

It really is Luffy’s word over everything.

Which is why, unfortunately, he has to join them.

So much for his long-gone peace. He got lost somewhere along the way.

Straying away from the group after a liquor store caught his eye, the congested area stirred him far from everyone, and now he was here—just roaming. Sure he could’ve started his search back, but he wasn’t necessarily confident in his ability to do it given the many other circumstances he had… unfortunately, put himself through. So he put his faith in fate.

Don’t even get him started on how much livelier the place is too, how is this even a town? It’s small sure, but it’s so bright, it feels like he’s getting flash-banged anytime his eyes look anywhere but the floor. If he didn’t know any better he’d think this was some sort of grand city. But Zoro would be lying if he said that it wasn’t decent-looking at the very least, the streets littered with decorations from top to bottom with lanterns and glitter shining so brightly.

It wasn’t completely an eyesore, just maybe the people that inhabited the space, and the overdone style to it.

And in the grand scheme of things, there were perks to the obnoxiously crowded area, it did well to shield his public appearance so many would not recognize him. Nor would they care with the way they practically fixated on everything but.

Arrows pointing here, lights pointing there, it only gets worse when it starts getting dark, his exhaust long fades, replaced with an indescribable frustration. He feels his eye twitch every 2.5 seconds, brows furrowed while he clenches his teeth at the bombarding and invasive illuminating advertisements for shops and restaurants that are literally right there. In front of the store.

“Hey, handsome, need a massage? Ya look pretty tense!”

No thanks.

“Hot dogs! Hot dogs for only 100 berries!”

No thanks.

“Fun for him and her! Come to our store so you and your lady can have a great night together!”

No. Fuckin’. Thank you.

He shakes off the growing frustration that brews within him, his patience runs thin and everyone and everything around him is doing little to compensate. He’s mad that he decided to tag along, because it proved worthless in the end, he got lost and now he has to reap the consequences of this stupid fiasco that Luffy so eagerly dragged him along on.

He sighs, defeat evident in his breath. He tries relaxing his shoulders a bit and without the risk of losing his other eye from how blinding every single thing in his vision is right now; he scans the area to find at least somewhere he can ease his mind.

Something, anything. At this point.

And in little time he spots that something. Between two stores, the left store labeled “WAX-IT-OFF!”, and the right being “Grand Line Finance”. He snorts. The complete irony and comedy within the two differing stores humors him but it quickly subsides once he sees what confuses him; it’s an almost igloo-shaped tent. Hm, he says to himself. He naturally gravitates towards it, or unnaturally almost. It’s quite unlike him to let his curiosity get the better of him.

The tent is covered by a velvet fabric and there’s a purple-ish pink light coming from the inside, and for a tent—it’s quite large—fit to house at least 10 people at a time. He doesn’t notice it then but there’s a line that’s already formed, and he waltz’ right on ahead almost as if he owned the huge sphere covered in blankets itself, ignoring the complaints of the crowded line that had been apparently waiting there for quite a while, they express their verbal insults and trash-talk alike towards Zoro.

They don’t do much to hold him back, though.

When he reveals the other side of the curtain, eager to see just what had been waiting, it was far more relaxed, an almost seductive energy that welcomed him. One thing he did realize, was how much more quiet it had become. His once tense muscles immediately unclench at the tranquil setting around him. His hear pears left and right to find that it was just as predictable as the outside was, but that wasn’t to say he was disappointed, quite the opposite.

“Sir, are you next up?” He looks around to see where the voice comes from, and he’s a little confused. “Down here, ya big oaf!” His returned peacefulness is quickly disturbed.

He looks down and it’s a man half his size, he had a weird looking hat and glasses that didn’t let him see behind them. He has a badge that reads “RIO” in bold letters, what Zoro assumes to be his name.

“Are you here to see Lady match-maker or not? She doesn’t have much time to wait!” The man half his size grabs hold of his muscular hand and he just follows. He doesn’t know why. Doesn’t understand how. Typically if it were anything or any other circumstance he’d probably just get the hell out of there, but he doesn’t sense any kind of danger. Not when his only opponent is a 3-foot man and the inside of this new found tent was so comfy.

And—what did he say about a match-maker?

The odd looking fellow practically has to drag him full force across the room and to expose to Zoro another curtain.

Presumably what Zoro thinks might be, “the match-maker”.

He’s got a bad feeling about this, not the sort of enemy territory feeling but a cringy uncomfortable and dumb feeling.

The shorty speaks, “You have ten minutes.” He unveils the curtain and pushes Zoro, or, tries to push Zoro in, but he doesn’t actually step in unless it’s under his own volition because he’s so heavy. When he does; he drinks in the entire scene in front of him, somehow even more glittery fabrics and silky blankets draped across and on top of one another, a table smack dab in the center with someone behind it.

Lo and behold, you—the uh… the match… making—maker. Yeah.

The small guy leaves Zoro’s sight and leaves him under your supervision.

And God, are you beautiful. A lot like your enclosed environment you wore a seemingly large robe that covers a lot of the floor almost acting as a sheet itself. It’s nicely coated around your body, the only skin on you that isn’t modestly covered is your neck and cleavage area and he doesn’t necessarily make his roaming eyes a secret.

And when you speak, “Hello, you can take a seat anywhere.” Your voice is smooth, and the more he takes you in is the more he falls into a sort of hypnosis. You giggle at the tension so prominently visible in his figure, “No need to be shy. Take a seat anywhere.

He snaps out of the trance you didn’t even know you put him in, or maybe you did. Who knows, he sits across from you with his legs crossed into each other and his hands laid onto his lap with a posture that you almost envy, you appreciate his formality.

And he’s just thinking about how amazing it would probably be to fall asleep in here, possibly with you.

It’s at this point that Zoro realizes that he hasn’t talked the whole time, but he makes little effort for his lack of speech until it’s you who breaks the silence.

“First, your name?”

He prepares his voice with a clearing of his throat, “Zo—” Oh wait, shit. He mentally face palms, but is quick to recollect himself. He quickly comes up with a name as a means to cover-up his true identity.

“Zorayo.”

Your brows furrow like you don’t buy it and his heart stops for the slightest second. “Zorayo?”

He feels so awkward right now. “Yeah… Zorayo.”

“Mmm, that sounds a lot like that infamous pirate-hunter… what was his name? Rorono… Roroyoa?” You think long and hard, “Roronoa Zoro!”

He clears his throat with an eye anywhere but yours. “Uh, yeah. I get that. A lot.” With a slight nod.

You scribble something down in your notes, he assumes to be his half-ass attempt at a name. He really hopes he’s not red, because everything about this is just plain embarrassing. If what he assumes about you being a “match-maker” is true and if anyone on the crew saw him coming out of this place, he doesn’t think he’d hear the end of it.

“You don’t happen to be a pirate yourself, do you?” At this, he tenses once again, “You’ve got the look.” He’s a bit taken aback, but as he scans your face for some sort of discomfort or distress, he’s even more surprised at how okay you are with the fact.

You’re not looking at him, instead you’re scribbling something down. You have been this whole time, hardly looking at him.

Yet somehow, the next words to come out of your mouth are, “I find it difficult to believe that you’re really here for match-making, Zorayo.” You drop your pen and rest your chin on both your hands, “What really brings you?”

He grunts, closes his eyes, and inhales. He’s trying to formulate up a lie, but it’s hard when you’re so beautiful. Your eyes are staring into his soul, he’s never seen anything like it. “No, I am. My friends… said that I needed to find a woman. B-But really I just wanna get laid.” If he didn’t know any better, he’d say his answer disappointed you a bit. “Y’know, if that’s an option.” Your hands come down and grip the pen once more to write down a few notes, and he can’t help from tapping on his knee a little bit now. His answer was shallow, desperate, and far from him, and he doesn’t understand why it bothered him to care about how you perceived it.

You let a silence linger for a bit as you bring the pen to your lips and tap it a few times, “What’s your ideal type?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “S’what I’m trying to figure out, woman.” He snorts, and your face returns with an almost bothered look.

You roll your eyes and rest the metal pen down harshly, “Do you actually wanna get ‘laid’?” You ask him almost rhetorically and using his vulgarities against him, “Then don’t be a smart ass.” You mumble under your breath, God, you pirates.

Once again, he’s taken aback by the sheer bluntness in your claim, and he’s almost offended. He gulps, he’s not nervous. Can’t be.

“Why do you assume I’m a pirate?” He exclaims in genuine confusion. “Look at you!” To emphasize your claim you extend your hand in reference to the big muscular and scarred man, “And besides, you’re not the only one who’s ever come to me for my assistance.”

He almost wants to mirror your previous eye roll, assistance?

Almost sounds like he’s having trouble getting his dick wet.

And, well—It looks that way, and he wants to crawl in a hole, anyone other than the one he was kinda already in, because of how utterly shameful this is to him.

Thankfully or not-so-thankfully you break the silence, “You have 6 minutes on the clock, mister. Better make it worth while.”

If he were being honest, all he wanted to do was just rest across the shiny blankets that littered the entire place, even if it meant he had to threaten everyone outside in line in order to get it. And he curses himself for getting into this predicament.

Speaking of outside, he did not want to go back anytime soon. The disgusting, flashy and flamboyant, utterly obnoxious, did he mention disgusting?—Outside.

Well, here goes nothing.

Zoro thinks on his response for you, he wants to make it so that it gives you at least something to work with, but not so much that it sounds tender or anything like that.

“I like women who know what they’re about. Not the shy type. I like ‘em when they can fend for themselves.” He nods in confirmation, satisfied with his own proclamation.

And you seem to be as well. There it is. Now we’re talkin’.

You scribble down on your notes once again, more impressed and relaxed by his revelation, it’s not much but it’s progress. “Anything… physical?”

“Mmm… physical?” He pans his vision from the soft scenery to you, “not… not necessarily.” He’s back to ogling you again.

You scribble, “Okay, Zorayo… You don’t like short hair? Long hair?”

You’re not met with a response, and when you look up, Zoro is still there, just with his unwavering gaze set on you, or more accurately—gaze fixed on your body, like he’s checking you out.

“Zorayo?”

He shakes his head as if to shake away unwanted thoughts. “Oh— Um. No. Yes. I mean, listen, S’long as she’s not ugly.”

Ugh, where have I heard that a gazillion times before.

Men.

“How am I supposed to identify that if you won’t tell me what you find physically attractive?!” The tip of your fingers are white from your grip.

Clients are difficult, clients are stubborn, and it’s not like you haven’t come across a guy like this once in a while, but you’d be damned if you didn’t admit that it was annoying as hell every. Single. Time.

You breathe, “Zorayo, full transparency.” You place your fingers on your chest to mark sincerity, your tone is softer. “I think you are attractive, I believe you’ll find no trouble in getting a girl in that department. I sense that you don’t often make the first move, and because of your naturally intimidating nature, it’s like a double-edged sword. Women won’t approach you.” You empathetically state. He just listens.

You ponder on your next word-choice as to not offend him if you had already, “it’s only difficult because you make it difficult. I assure you, you would have girls falling at your feet if you were just a little more… giving?” You finish with hope that he understands your meaning.

You can tell he absorbs your words a bit, and it’s definitely progress from where you started. You rest your shoulders in a bit of relief to find that he finally might seek that inner peace and comprehension, understanding maybe why he might be feeling so defeated in the romance department. You weren’t a match-maker for nothing, right?

He puts his finger on his chin, and the smallest tiniest smile graces his face.

“Well f’thats the case, why don’t you just sleep with me?”

“That’s great, Zo—Huh?” Your eyes are shot wide open, and you look at him in pure disbelief. What the hell is wrong with this guy? “How could you even suggest something so inconsiderate and vulgar? I have clients that are patiently waiting outside!”

He snorts, “They can always wait.” His smirk gets wider, his eyes a little darker. You gasp, or scoff—you don’t know what it is. You’re so blown away by the fact that he’d request something so dirty and scandalous. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m not one for the taking, idiot! I am the match-maker, not the matched.”

He becomes more relaxed in his posture, his hands are grounded to the floor behind him to act as balance, “Is it against the rules or somethin’? Like ya can’t get fucked?”

Oh, he’s getting so much more vulgar, and… for some reason, it’s… turning you on a bit. And he looks unbothered, almost bored at your fit. You’re red, you’re red all over. It’s bad. This is bad for you. Usually you’re not the flustered one, and sure clients will come in with their occasional flirting and advances. But this?

This is too advance.

“Zo… Zorayo—I can’t possibly…” you close your eyes as you look away from him and shamefully pull your face away from his direction. But he’s not hearing a no, which is something he’d assume you would have verbally expressed by now. And… sure. He was attractive, very visibly, audibly… verbally so. It’s not something you lied about with clients, which is why you were not sold on the fact that he needed any help finding the perfect woman for he in fact, was sculpted by the Gods themselves.

He takes it upon himself to get up, walk over to your side while you wallow in your state of shamefulness and whatever it is that you’re so worked up about. He’s slow in his movement, calculated to see how you’d react if he got anymore closer to you to ensure that what he was about to do wasn’t one-sided and you weren’t actually against the concept.

He kneels at your side and his hand finds its way to your lap, you yelp a bit at the sudden contact. You’re so ashamed right now, so red.

Then it dawns on him, you poor thing. He smiles sadistically. It hits so quickly by the way you react at his physical advance, that you yourself are not being taken care of. The woman who has set up many couples for life? The woman who has brought people to fate and great happiness? But herself? The smile on his face grows a little bit wider, and his hand snakes to your chin, an attempt that you almost melt into too easily. He gets closer to your face. You’re finally looking at him, and he waits for the green light.

“I’ll… I’ll tell Rio to close up for the n-night.”

He’s satisfied, “Good girl.”

You drag your knees across the covered floor as you make your way to the covers, your hands are shaking—with excitement or anxiety, maybe both. You don’t know. You fix yourself, pull the covers in hopes of only revealing your own flushed face and there he was, patiently waiting for your signature cue.

“Rio, there’s a bit of an issue.”

The short man immediately responds, “What is it, my lady?” He sounds a little alarmed so you assure, “I’ll have to reject my services for the rest of the night…”

“T-This one’s… a special case.” You feign a soft smile.

He seems confused a tad, because there’s never an instance where you’ve felt the desire to put such an abrupt stop to your services. A special case? That makes him visibly more confused, but he’s confident in your skill and trusts that you understand what you’re doing. “Understood, Miss. I’ll leave you to it while I fight off those desperate dogs outside.” He laughs at his joke and turns his back to you. You manage a small thank you.

You were confident in his ability in doing so, though he be small he was quite fierce. When the coast was clear and you hear your assistants muffled yells to the stubborn customers, you slowly cover back the space leaving you to the muscled beast, alone once again.

You turn to him, “I’m just letting you know that I haven’t had sex in a while, so you’re gonna need to prep me.” You make work of the robe that’s snug tightly around your waist.

He scoffs, as if offended by your request, “‘Thout question.”

You furrow your brows, “Don’t get cocky on me now, it’s you who needs to get laid.” And you instantly regret the words that come out of your mouth, because now he’s giving you daggers for eyes. He gestures you over nonetheless, and you crawl over to him with no question, now it’s as if you’re entranced by the green-haired man, he’s handsome—beautiful almost, it doesn’t take much will-power to follow his fingers that beckon you over.

“A-And, you can’t be too rough.”

“That’s fine.”

“—And we stop when I say so.” He nods in respect, huh, easier than you thought.

After the knot of your robe was undone, and it feels like it was forever til you got it, you reveal a loose and simple dress underneath and he doesn’t exactly make his appeal towards you discreet.

But it dawns on you, because you haven’t done this in what feels like an eternity that you literally don’t know what to do, let alone with someone so… large?

“How do you wanna…” you gulp and pick at your nails in nervousness.

“Jeez, woman. You a virgin or somethin’?” Well, right now you might as well be. He gets up from his seated position and stands on his knees, “Lay down on the table.”

It’s probably for the better that he’s in control of everything you both do, you’ve already laid out the ground rules of what he can or can’t do, and it’s only really up from here. You do as he instructs, not too eagerly, not too anxiously and you can say that you were satisfied with the way you carried yourself thus far. You just really really hope he can’t tell that you need this as much as he might.

You sit on your little table, and he’s kneeling in front of you.

He’s impossibly bigger.

He grabs ahold of your thighs, almost letting his fingers dip underneath the fabric of your short dress and you shiver in immediate reaction. His hands are so warm, and you can’t help but put your smaller one on top of his.

He takes it as a sign to let his face come closer to yours, and you could almost call him a romantic; the way he tilts his head and his eye is half-shut, he leans in almost too slow for your liking, but his lips meet yours anyways. He almost made you feel like you had to earn it.

When your lips touched, it takes you by surprise to learn that they’re much softer than they look, and he’s skilled—he comes closer, his fingers glide up to your hips and underneath your last piece of large coverage, he grips a little tighter but not uncomfortably so, and his tongue swipes across your lip almost as if to ask for permission to enter.

—And enter it does, you whimper pathetically into his attack and it’s getting very hot. Be it his body temperature or how much you’ve moved within the past 5 minutes within such a tight space, it’s inevitably warmer in your familiar environment. You wonder, is he this good at everything?

Only one way to find out.

“Lie down on your back.” He commands as he pulls away, and you oblige. On your back you get a better look at his figure that looks like it’s about to eat you alive. It’s technically what you want right now, anyway. He hooks his thick finger into your panties and pulls them down. For the first time you hear a satisfied grunt leave his mouth, he’s been damn near non-verbal this entire time so it feels like a little prize when he does.

He throws your undergarment to the side but never strips his stare away from you, “This all for me?” That smirk returns, he takes his middle finger and starts pressing it up and down your cunt that draws another whimper out of you. You think he’s referencing the wetness, and it’s kind of embarrassing.

He laughs at your sudden inability to talk back.

“J-Just get it over with.” You say, you don’t realize it until then but you’re gripping the edge of the table almost like you’re bracing for some sort of impact, perhaps you were just that nervous, would he really be gentle like he promised? He looks down at you, and your body immediately softens, he doesn’t look so mean or aggressive at this moment.

He glides his hands up to the back of your knees and presses them impossibly up to your chest and it confuses you for a split second. He dips down immediately and flattens his tongue almost down from your asshole and all the way up to your clit. Your body flinches a bit and you seethe.

Just when you thought he might have been setting the pace nice and sensually slow, he immediately goes to town, sucking and licking at your pussy like a man starved. You whimper his fake name.

He cringes at the name a little bit, but it instantly subsides when he realizes just how good your cunt tastes. He makes quick work of adding a finger inside whilst his tongue continues a nice attack on your clit. You’re in another dimension at this point. This position was so vulnerable, so open and you now understand why he decided that it was best to start like this.

Another finger joins in, and the way your pussy sounds is pornographic—his bulge grows impossibly bigger and he catches himself from moaning as a blanket softly touches his sensitive area. He’s enjoying this way more than he thought he would. As a matter of fact, Zoro forgets why he was even here in the first place, not that he cares but—wow, what a prize you were. If getting lost meant this was what welcomed him on the other side every time, he’d have to try it a lot more.

You’re gone, understandably so. “It’s—soooo goood, mmmm…” you curse and whine at his fast pace, “‘Think m’gonna—!”

And like manifestation you cum, it hits so much harder than you think it will and the come-down is so much slower than you anticipated.

His fingers and tongue fuck you through it but not unbearably, he pulls his fingers out and glides them up and down your slit as he watches your face contort into a feeling of indescribable satisfaction. He lets you come down from your amazing high before he’s bringing your body closer to him by a latch of your hips, “That feel good baby?” He says in a husky voice, kissing up and down your neck and all you can manage is a whiny mhm! before he’s pulling off his yukata and leaving you speechless.

You softly moan at his bare physique, the little window of his chest doesn’t do it any justice—it’s much better than you expected it to be, much larger too and his cock is damn near screaming to come out just by the looks of it stretching the material out.

You pick yourself up with all the strength from your arms and try to get your dress off, and he watches you struggle for a moment before, “Here, let me—” and in little effort, he pulls it over your head.

He looks you up and down, and it goes straight to your throbbing cunt once again. “Fuck, you’re gonna drive me crazy.” You lay down again but this time pushing yourself up just a little bit by your elbows, just to get a glance at the action.

“You want me to take care of you, doll? Huh?” Zoro pulls his own undergarments down, revealing what you’ve been aching for this entire time. “A shame, no one thought to ever take your feelings into consideration.” He gives himself a few strokes as he lines himself up, then slowly pushes into you. He sighs at the stretch, and the way it slowly and surely disappears into you. “Takin’ it so fuckin’ well. Just like you should.”

Your eyebrows instantly smash together with your mouth hanging open, eyes squinted just the perfect amount. Zoro groans, “You’re so fuckin’ tight, hm? You want me to keep going?”

“Y-es, yes please! Need it bad!”

And since you asked so nicely, he gives a little push in and out, it makes you moan so desperately that one of your hands clenches within itself from how shameful the nature of it truly was.

And you’re so sure that even with the unnecessary amount of coverage the tent has, someone’s probably heard you if they were close enough. You should be ashamed of yourself; getting slutted out like you were some sort of cock-sleeve. No man has ever made you feel this full, so anyone curious enough to get up close was just gonna have to put up with how much of a whore you sounded like right now.

He picks up his pace and it’s not relentlessly fast or painfully slow, it was just right and you think you might be on Cloud 9 with the way the thing glides in and out of your once neglected cunt.

“Tell me how much you like it, doll.” His head is tilted and his gaze is marked with nothing but lust.

“It feels s-so… so good. Feels like nothing I ever felt before— fuck!” You grab hold of the edge of the table and any loose blanket in close proximity. “More, please! More Zorayo!” And he was so lost in his own pleasure that he’s long forgotten about that dumb name he decided to give you.

“J…Just call me Zoro.” He says breathlessly, pace never faltering.

Well, must’ve been as good a time as any to have told you that, because you really didn’t seem to care, maybe too cock-drunk to even think about it enough. And honestly Zoro himself doesn’t either, with the way your tits bounce with every time he pounds into you, you look like you’re in another world and he’s soon to join you.

You’re moaning, then it turns into soft little cries and whimpers and that’s when Zoro knows that you’re on close approach.

“Let it out, baby. Like that.” His own thrusts are a little sloppy and he’s watching your every expression with close examination. “Juuust like that, s-shit.” The way he talks you through it, his grip on your skin and the skin-ship itself—it’s so much, it pushes you over the edge. With a cry of his actual name this time, which sounds so much better and allows him to relish in his own bliss fully, you cum, and it’s even better than the last.

Your body shakes with every thrust that goes in and out, in and out while Zoro chases his own high, his body shivers a little bit and he finally pulls out when he knows the exact moment he might accidentally fuck his release into you. He pushes your legs coated with slick tightly together, then starts to thrust into your thighs, the scene is disgustingly lewd; he’s using you to get off with your own body but oh well, he’s not pushing his seed inside of you and that’s what counts.

He paints your stomach with all different kinds of strokes and you’re a living breathing mess, there’s so many fluids coating your body that you can hardly tell which is which aside from the one on your stomach, you’re tired to say the least. But you’re still aching.

You’re aching for him, in specific. It’s not enough, and after tonight you don’t think it’ll ever be enough, he’s too good. Too skilled for his own good and you can’t stop wanting him. “Zoro, *breath* n-need *breath* more.” You manage to say as you try leveling yourself. “Need more of your cock, ple—ase!”

And all you had to do was ask.

He picks you up a little and off the table with your assistance, grounding your body on the floor next to it, that way Zoro can get in a more intimate position he’d hoped for all along. His body on yours, in whatever way you’ll allow him to take you. It sounds like a dream.

You claw at his bicep while he hovers over you, and it feels like he hasn’t kissed you in forever. He comes down to meet your lips once again, shaft in hand and again, lining himself up. Only this time as a warning Zoro rubs himself up and down before entering you with a slow push. You manage a “Mmmfffhh!” At the intrusion, but you welcome it anyways. He starts his pace like the last.

There’s something different about it though, it might be the intimacy and just how close you guys seem to be this time around, you’re wrapping yourself around him like he was your life-line. You have your hands tight around his shoulders with your legs hanging off his hips for support while they rock into you with much force to accompany it.

He’s just as gone as you are, his cock is hitting you in the deepest places he couldn’t have imagined. “You’re… so good for me, s’like you’re mine. Letting me fuck you like th—is.” He says with a groan following suit, “You like getting spoiled like this, baby?”

Your eyes are shut tight and you’re dizzy, “Mhm! O—Only by you! J-Just by you Zoro!”

Now it might’ve been the heat of the room, but you feel so impossibly wet, all over. And it’s proven in the way that the blankets surrounding you are slowly getting drenched with your sweat amongst many other things, you’re a bit ashamed for a second, you wonder how you’ll clean it up.

That thought gets thrown out the window the faster it comes in through it, Zoro hits a spot you were all too familiar with and you cry out. “Oooooooh… fuck… yesyesyesyesyes—” You chant his name like your life depended on it, and he feels like he could just explode right then. He’s so enamored by you, the way your sweat accentuated every beautiful thing about you and it sends him into overdrive, he promised not to get rough but it’s impossible. His hips are automatic in that sense, he just wants to ruin you.

You don’t seem to mind the change in pace, how rough he fucks you, though. “Y-Yes, like that, don’t. Fucking. Stop.” You welcome it if anything.

He laughs at your change of heart, “M…not planning to, doll.”

And almost as if you’re trying to choke around him, it’s dangerously tight, and with every thrust it feels almost impossible going back in—it’s like he can’t imagine that this feels good for you but your face truly begs to differ. You stare at him with so much desire in your eyes and your body naturally pleads for more, bucking hips and arms like you never wanna let go. Zoro doesn’t even remember what drove him to come here in the first place, but he can’t imagine a better outcome—a doll like you, sweet and willing to let him fuck you in any position he wished. God, he almost wants to steal you away from this loser town and have you all to himself.

He feels himself dangerously closer this time, all the more sensitive. And without your audible declarations, he thinks he might cum before you.

He brings his thumb to your clit and starts his circular motion before coming down to kiss you gently, muffling your sweet sounds while you wrap your hands around his neck. Everything about this screams intimate, if it wasn’t for how rough he’d have been going you would have thought he was making love to you.

You gasp for air as your orgasm quickly reigns down on you for the third time, his strokes are a little bit sloppier and he’s instantly pulling out to once again; cumming on your stomach.

It’s quiet for a while save for the sighs and heavy breaths that leave both your throats, he’s leaning back off of his heel to get a good look at you after damn near ravaging you. He’s content, but he genuinely believes he could go for another couple more rounds. Your laid on your side, eyes closed and relaxed.

Zoro turns you back onto your position before and takes a nearby piece of cloth that is to no surprise nearby, to wipe off your stomach, “Bailin’ on me already?” He says, it’s playful but he’s as a serious as you’ll let him be. He’s still half hard and he doesn’t think he’d be able to stop anytime soon.

“How many rounds can you go, you beast?” You ask trying to sit up off of your elbows once again.

“Bout as many as you can take.”

And take you do, the brute man fucks you through all the rest of the continuous rounds. Slow, hard, soft—just when you think you might not be able to withstand the next one, all it takes is a glance at his hungry eyes and you’re back under his wrath, it’s pathetic almost and you should be ashamed, but it feels euphoric.

You realize about half-way through it all that you’re not fucking just anyone, but the Roronoa Zoro. The man with a billion dollar bounty on his head. It should make you stop. Shouldn’t it? You should put an end to this scandal before someone finds you out, the second it dawns on you.

And you’ll take it to the grave; the truth is that it made you so much more hungrier for him. You, a mere civilian amongst a no-name town that many along the Grand Line used as a means to kick their feet up and relax, so small and irrelevant… are fucking one of the most dangerous men across the 4 seas?

Why, it was nothing but fuel to you. To go harder, faster, just for him. Just to impress him and make him feel like you were the only one for him.

The last round is when he ruthlessly suggests that you ride his dick, you could tell that he was getting off on the idea of you being so desperate for his cock and trying to muster up any will-power to drag yourself up and down. It was comedic really, you were crying, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop even though your thighs were so painfully sore. It almost felt like a drug.

Along the way he decides that he’s bored with the theatrics and pulls you down just to fuck up into you. And the way you came just felt as good as the last. You pulled off of him and rubbed your slit onto his shaft while he came as well.

Now with him sprawled against the bedded floor with him on top of you, it’s boiling in the room now, you might even slide off of him because of how wet you both are. Lewd, dirty, disgusting. But if no one’s outside with pitchforks and fire the way you chanted his unmistakable name, you’d say you weren’t too loud. Maybe.

“So, d’you think I found my match?” He says, and you can’t help the laugh that erupts from you.

“Not yet.” You lay your head against his wet chest, “You’re gonna have to keep looking. Plenty of fish in the sea.”

His chest vibrates against your head with a big hum, “Not worth my while, not as good a fish as you.”

#roronoa zoro #one piece #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #one piece zoro #zoro smut #roronoa zoro smut #roronoa zoro x reader #law trafalgar #vinsmoke sanji #law trafalgar x reader #one piece x reader #sanji vinsmoke x reader #sanji x reader #sanji x you

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luvfae · 3 days ago

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BAD INVESTMENT

PART ONE

summary: while at club pentagon, thanos runs into the man that single handedly got him into debt, mg coin, but he also runs into you. mg coin’s pretty little girlfriend.

parings: myung-gi x f!reader, thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: violence, blood, swearing, alcohol use

bad investment masterlist

MG Coin.

The man who single-handedly ruined Thanos’ life.

The so-called crypto guru who convinced thousands—including him—to pour their money into a sinking ship. And now here he was, sitting at the bar inside Club Pentagon, a girl—you—perched between his legs like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Thanos clenched his jaw. The audacity.

He didn’t hesitate. He stalked forward, cutting through the crowd, eyes locked on his target.

“MG Coin,” he said, voice low, dangerous.

The man looked up, blinking at him in confusion. You glanced over your shoulder, and for a split second, Thanos’ focus wavered, his eyes dropping to yours. But then Myung-gi spoke.

“Do I know you?”

Thanos’ gaze snapped back.

“No,” he said coolly, cracking his knuckles. “But you’re about to.”

Myung-gi sighed, already exasperated. “Listen, if this is about crypto—”

“You stole my money,” Thanos cut in, his voice edged with restrained fury. “You owe me.”

“I didn’t steal your money, man,” Myung-gi replied, shaking his head. “It’s not my fault the market crashed.”

Thanos took another step forward, towering over him.

“You made the videos. You sold the dream.” His lip curled. “And I bought it.”

Myung-gi exhaled, rubbing his temples. “Jesus Christ, you sound just like the idiots in my DMs.”

Thanos smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. His eyes flickered back to you, his smirk widening.

“What’s your name, señorita?” he drawled, voice dripping with flirtation.

You couldn’t help it—the smile that spread across your lips, the soft giggle that escaped you. Like your boyfriend wasn’t sitting right there. Like you weren’t tangled up in his lap.

Myung-Gi’s fingers tapped against your cheek, pulling your attention back to him.

“Why don’t you grab us a drink, babe?” he said, all sugar-sweet smiles, slipping his card into your hand.

You nodded, slipping away into the crowd.

Thanos watched you go, eyes dark with interest. “Make that three!” he called after you, but the music swallowed his voice whole. No matter. He’d have his way one way or another.

His attention snapped back to Myung-Gi. “Who is she?” he asked, feigning casual curiosity.

Myung-Gi’s jaw tensed. “My girlfriend,” he bit out. “So back the fuck off.”

Thanos’ smirk sharpened.

“You know, MG Coin,” he mused, stepping closer, “I might be willing to call us even—” he tilted his head, eyes flicking toward you at the bar before settling back on Myung-Gi, “—if you let me have a taste of her.”

Myung-Gi shot to his feet, shoving Thanos hard.

Thanos stumbled back a step before straightening, his expression darkening, amusement flickering into something far more dangerous.

Slowly, he grabbed a fistful of Myung-Gi’s collar, yanking him close until their noses nearly touched.

“Touch me again,” he murmured, voice soft but laced with venom, “and I’ll cut off those sticky little fingers of yours and gift them to your bitch.” His eyes flickered back toward you, watching as you collected the drinks from the bartender. “Then,” he smirked, “I’ll make her my bitch.”

Thanos let go with a shove, smoothing out his shirt like nothing had happened.

“She will love it,” he added, grinning.

Rage flared in Myung-Gi’s eyes, and he swung—wild, unthinking.

Thanos dodged effortlessly, chuckling, before driving his fist straight into Myung-Gi’s face.

You appeared then, setting the drinks on the bar top before crouching beside Myung-Gi, who was clutching his bleeding nose, groaning in pain.

“Oh my gosh, babe!” you gasped, eyes wide with concern as you gently touched his face.

Then your gaze snapped up to Thanos, and the softness vanished, replaced by a fiery glare.

“You asshole!” you spat.

Thanos only smirked, watching you with lazy amusement as he loomed over you, his presence overwhelming.

He reached out, fingers trailing along your jaw before pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. “Mmm, fiery,” he mused, voice dripping with amusement. “I like that.”

Your scowl deepened, but he only leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a husky whisper just for you.

“When you’re done playing house with this boy,” he murmured, lips barely an inch from your ear, “why don’t you come find me? Let me show you what it’s like to be really taken care of.” His fingers trailed lightly down your arm, deliberate, slow. “I’ll make you forget every other man that’s ever touched you.”

Your breath hitched for a fraction of a second—just enough for his smirk to deepen.

“Fuck off,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes, shoving his chest as you turned back to Myung-Gi.

Thanos chuckled under his breath, watching you fuss over your boyfriend, knowing damn well he had just planted a seed in your mind—one that would be impossible to ignore.

The tension in the air was thick as you helped Myung-Gi up from the floor, his face contorted in pain. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of frustration, but you forced it down. This wasn’t the time. Myung-Gi was your boyfriend, and that meant you needed to stay focused on him, despite the way Thanos’ words lingered in your mind.

You glanced back at Thanos, who stood across the room, watching you like he knew something you didn’t. His eyes were dark, calculating, but there was something else too—something that tugged at you in a way you couldn’t quite place.

“You alright?” you asked Myung-Gi softly, trying to calm his frayed nerves. You dabbed at his nose with a napkin, the sight of blood making you wince.

“Yeah, just a scratch,” Myung-Gi grumbled, clearly furious but trying to mask his vulnerability. His hand still shook slightly, though. “That guy’s got a fucking death wish.”

You didn’t respond. Myung-Gi was quick to forget about the threat, but you couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that had settled in your chest ever since Thanos spoke to you. You had never been one to entertain flirtation from men—let alone the kind of men who made your stomach twist—but there was something magnetic about the way that guy carried himself.

You hated that about yourself. Hated that you had even acknowledged the pull he had on you.

“Let’s go home,” Myung-Gi grunted, grabbing his jacket and throwing it over his shoulder, signaling the end of the night.

You nodded, offering a half-hearted smile. The night had gone downhill fast, and all you wanted now was to escape the buzzing of your thoughts. Myung-Gi wasn’t the easiest man to deal with when he was angry—especially when he had an audience.

The ride back was silent, the tension between you both palpable. Myung-Gi’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. You watched his profile, the way his jaw twitched with every passing minute. He hadn’t said a word since the club, and you weren’t sure what to do.

You hadn’t expected Thanos to show up the way he had, let alone provoke Myung-Gi like that. But what made it worse was how easy it had been for Thanos to get under your skin, how easily he’d distracted you.

“You know,” Myung-Gi broke the silence, his voice tight, “That asshole doesn’t know what he’s playing at.”

You didn’t answer at first, unsure of how to approach the conversation. You knew Myung-Gi well enough to know that when he was pissed off, trying to reason with him only made things worse.

“I don’t like the way he looked at you,” he added, his voice lowering. “You’re mine, got it?”

The possessiveness in his tone made your skin crawl. You didn’t respond, simply staring out the window, as if the city lights outside could distract you from the anger bubbling inside.

The next few days were a blur. You barely saw Myung-Gi outside of your shared apartment, and when you did, it was strained. His eyes kept darting toward his phone, as though waiting for the next notification to tell him everything was still okay, like everything was still under control.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about that moment at the club—the way he looked at you, how his words lingered in your mind. He was dangerous, you knew that. And yet, it felt like he was playing some kind of game, pulling at strings you didn’t even know were there.

#squid game #thanos x reader #choi su bong x reader #player 230 x reader #thanos #player 230 #choi su bong #mg coin #myung gi #myung gi x reader

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simp-ly-writes · 2 days ago

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The Titanic

─────── · · For All Time: The Series (pt.4)

─ · · PAIRING: 10th Doctor x F!Time Lord!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: One year, twenty-one days, and nine hours since you had last seen a Time Lord (not including yourself in the mirror), and you were ready to made that twenty-three days while voyaging on the Titanic... if only the Doctor didn't have similar plans...

─ · · TAGS: jealous!Doctor 👀, female pronouns used, second person perspective, canon divergence, soulmate au, emotional angst, ✨ tension ✨, coarse language, eventual happy ending (but not yet), not beta read.

─ · · A/N: I. am. so. invested in these two I swear-

─────── · ·

One year, twenty-one days, and nine hours since you had last seen a Time Lord, not including yourself of course while preparing your century-conscious appearance in the mirror this morning. It was the early 20th century- just ahead of world war one and part way through the second industrial revolution.

City streets were covered in a layer of smog, cars were humming loudly past you and various city dwellers could be heard shouting in the early morning streets. Even with the ability to time travel you still found yourself late, pushing yourself through the mass of people at the port all there to catch a glimpse of the “Wonder Ship.”

You listen as the horns blare, cheer erupt from the crowd you apologize and step around before finally making your way in life to board. Psychic paper in one hand, your TARDIS luggage in the other. And to think some don’t think to carry their’s with them, you smile to yourself, flashing the blank paper at one of the staff members.

“Welcome aboard the RMS Titanic, Miss. (last/name). We hope you have a pleasant trip,” the young man greets you with a slight bow, “may we take your luggage to your room for you?” He offers, extending his hand to yours yet you pull back just in time.

“I should be fine with this old thing, I think the gentlelady behind me might need some help though,” you tilt your head back signalling to the refined woman behind you and the array of suitcases her various staff carry behind her.

“I will do just that, Miss. Smith,” he smiles at you and you mirror the same before making your way up the step onboard. You pause just in front of the staircase, luggage being supported by both your hands as you spin around in a circle to watch as the stained glass dome above reflects against the mosaic tiles and marble staircase. The carved wood beams and panelled walls are nothing short of stunning not to mention all the crystal fixtures. Humans… never cease to amaze me with their pure determination…

Looking down at your watch, the undocking ceremony would be happening in just under an hour and with that in mind, you made your way towards your room. Yet just before you could turn down the last hall a male voice called out to you, “Madame! Mademoiselle! Miss! Ah- Lady? Duchess?... Princess? Excuse me!” footsteps rushed in your direction before pausing just in front of you.

“At some point I have been all of the above but its Miss (last/name) now,” you clarify while observing the man before you; watching as their shirt expanded and flexed with every breath, the man smiles apologetically at you, cheeks slightly flushed from running as a white-gloved hand presents a key hanging from a silk bow to you, “well then, Miss. All of the above, you dropped this in the lobby,” he explains.

“Oh… thank you,” you take the key gently from his possession and tuck it into your pocket before continuing down the hall- pausing after a few steps hearing as he does not turn back, “Is everything alright?” you question.

“Yes, quite. I was just wondering… do you drink?” You hum to yourself in contemplation.

“Depends on what's being served,” you counter, playing with the stitching on your gown.

“We’re on the Titanic, they’ve got it all,” he does his best to entice you with a dazzling wink.

“If that's the case then… How could I refuse, Mister…?” you linger your words for an answer. It feels good being wanted, you think to yourself standing up that bit taller feeling as his gaze lingers on your warming cheeks.

“Mr. Hartley, Wallace Hartley-” he begins to answer before your own excitement cuts him off, “the musician!- violinist and band lead if I am correct?”

“Most certainly so, It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he bends down, pressing a kiss to the back of your gloved hand, touch lingering as he stares up at you before letting go. You feel one of your hearts skip a beat as you shift your weight from foot to foot. “...Can I expect to see you at the Lounge at seven?” he asks.

“Till then, Mr. Hartley,” you give him one last look over before entering your room and falling against the closed door. Maybe I allow myself this one night to forget who I am… just the one…

─────── · ·

“Doctor! I have nothing to wear, we’re going on the bloody titanic of all things and I can’t waltz up on the deck wearing M&S!” Donna yells from her room, various articles of clothing thrown out into the hall as the Doctor emerges from the wardrobe in a full black tailored suit with a silk bow-tie to match. “Well don’t you clean up nicely, making me feel real good here spaceman,” Donna grumbles before throwing a shoe by his foot that he kicks aside.

“You do know that the TARDIS has a full costume room… right?” the Doctor dips his head, whispering the information in an effort to lower his companions tone.

“And you didn’t think to, oh- I don’t know, tell me that sooner before I emptied my whole closet?!” Donna stands with a frustrated sigh before walking past the Doctor and across the hall to open the suddenly-appeared door. She lets out a long low whistle at the multi-leveled room, each article organized and tagged by planet and era. “Why do you have so many feminine articles?” She picks out a Rococo gown, mesmerized by every pearl detail that glimmers underneath the warm lighting, “I mean this is just… it really takes your breath away, just look! Someone made this!”

The Doctor pauses, a frown noticeably forming on his face as Donna picks up one of your old dresses. He remembers ordering that very gown for you whilst visiting the Queen of France for the first time. He watched you spin and twirl underneath the candlelight, held you in his arms as you smiled brightly up at him. He could still feel your painted lips underneath his shirt before you buttoned it up with a teasing smirk that made him feel hot and bothered all night long- “Doctor?”

The Time Lords blinks repeatedly, “Sorry, what?” He clears his throat, standing up straight- refusing to look Donna in the eyes.

“Is everything alright?” she asks, placing the gown back on the rack, concerned for her best-friend.

“It's nothing,” the Doctor shrugs it off, starting to humm to himself while making his way ‘further in time’ towards the earlier twentieth century in search of something for his companion to wear. “I think we have a few options over here and shoes are just underneath. I’ll grab you a coat for the deck.”

Donna silently watches as the Doctor flinches while touching certain articles of clothing as if they burned him, his eyes blinking away the smoke and ash before casting her a bright smile, coat and shoes in arms. “I think this is everything, I’ll be in the console room when you’re ready-”

“Doctor?” Donna calls out once more, heart pained seeing as the Doctor forcibly tries to stifle a pain burning from within.

“Yes?” the Doctor pauses at the door, turning back around while staring down at his shoes. Donna pauses, eyes casting over the lanky man’s frame with a saddened sigh, “can I ask you something?”

“You just did-” he quips.

“Oi! Don’t you get all smart on me now,” Donna hisses like a disappointed mother watches as the Doctor's shoulders only deflate more. “Who wore these clothes?”

The Doctor stills, breathing and hearts stopped as the oxygen in the room becomes heavy in his lungs causing him to cough up an excuse. Donna instantly regrets asking the question having never seen the Doctor appear so… weak and small. “You don’t have to answer that!” She quickly rushes out yet the Doctor concedes.

“They were- they are everything to me, the stars, the void, and time itself…” The Doctor opens his mouth, hesitating before killing the thought as it sparks, “we really must get going now or else I’m afraid we’ll miss the band playing,” the Doctor proceeds to storm out of the wardrobe, hand clenched into a fist that he forces himself to ease.

─────── · ·

The Lounge is packed by the time you arrive. The undocking ceremony was… uneventful and took quite some time to move such a ship from the port that you left part ways. Wallace was already performing on stage, casting you a wink as you moved towards the front of the stage to take a seat at one of the lower tables. A crystal glass sat in your hands, a small plate of finger-food on the table for you to pick at as you watched the ice melt whilst tapping your foot to the beat, head swinging side to side- following the rhythm.

You can hear the small conversations happening around you, the clinking of glasses and polite laughs but amongst all the noise a small gasp has you turning around in your seat, attention peaked to find a tall, slender, and very handsome man with brown eyes already staring back at you and your bond snaps back into place. Your hearts stop, you feel yourself sink more into your chair, rooted in place as the song begins to pick up with the shakes in your hand as if you're conducting it.

With parted lips you whisper a name you promised yourself to forget yet never seemed able to, hands squeezing and threatening to shatter the crystal in your hand. Doctor… and the man responds to the title with darkened eyes and long strides over to you before being stopped by the ginger woman on his arm. You shake your head at the scene, of course! You laugh at yourself before forcing your eyes back towards the stage seeing as Wallce is already looking concerned at you. Want to leave? He mouths, eyes pointed towards the backstage door.

You raise a brow, Leave, now? But you’re performing… you mouth back, setting your glass on the table and readjusting your gloves.

Wallace only shrugs before whispering something into the pianist's ear and the song slowly dies out. You stand quickly, clapping with the rest of the crowd as Wallace hands his violin off to one of his band members and jumps down from the stage, sauntering over to you and presses a kiss to the back of your hand.

You jolt at the touch, your skin coming alive with a thousand sparks trying to reach the surface and taking on the appearance of goosebumps hidden beneath your gloves and sleeves. Wallace places a hand against your back that slowly dips down seeing as the Doctor nears and for a moment you doubt your ability to see properly as the moment feels too surreal.

Whatever rush you originally felt was met with an overwhelming sense of calm, as if you were simply resting underwater and being hugged by all angles, protected under his gaze. “Hello sweetheart,” he speaks softly, hand raising slowly to hover just below your chin yet refusing to touch.

He watches you, waiting for you to reply, to pull him in or push him back like the tide. You press more weight into Wallace’s side as the Doctor studies you, Wallace’s head drops in order to whisper in your ear- asking if you’re alright. The Doctor’s hand twitches at the sight, the millisecond of a touch has you taking in a shaky breath and you suddenly feel too hot, cheeks flushed and throat dry as your body wants nothing more than to be near the Doctor, to try and reform your bond.

You catch the fiery-haired woman's gaze as she looks between you and the Doctor in nothing short of purse shock and maybe a bit of terror. The Doctor’s hand lingers, slowly cupping your cheek, pulling your face gently closer, “you’re… so you,” his words broken and strained by on-coming tears, “so incredibly, eternally beautiful,” he whispers too quietly for human ears.

Your throat is dry as you lick your lips, unsure of how to respond- you pull away from his touch, instantly regretting your actions by the wince in his eyes and the sharp pain you feel in your hearts. You force your gaze away and towards Wallace, “Mr. Hartley, meet my ex-husband, John Smith. Mr. Smith, this is Mr. Heartley.”

The Doctor reaches out and grabs the other man's hand in a firm handshake with dead eyes and to your shock, Wallace levels the Doctor's look, looping his arm around your waist with a stiff smile, “A pleasure, Mr. Smith.”

“Wish I could say the same, Mr. Heartley and now darling, ex-husband? Can we at least discuss something’s-” the Doctor begins to ramble, taking a step closer before Donna grips the back of his suit, “Mr. Smith! What on Earth do you think you’re doing?”

Yet you both don’t pay attention to the human, your reminiscent gaze now hardened by the Doctor's apparent nonchalance, “You would still be my husband if you didn’t try and kill me, darling, or did you forget already? Seems that's an easy thing for you to do,” you spit out the pet name with enough venom to have the fellow Time Lord stumbling back in shock and hurt before becoming overwhelmed in rage.

“Forget?” the Doctor wiggles Donna's grasp off himself as he storms back up to you, pointing a finger between your two hearts, “I forgot nothing. Not their screams, the death and murders. Not our wedding and our travels and especially not the way you make me feel. How could I ever forget about the best thing in my life?”

You laugh, cackle even as you stand straight and walk out of Wallace’s hold, the Doctor's finger now pressed against your heaving chest as you shake with anger. “If this is how you treat the best thing in your life, I really must not know who you are anymore, John-”

“I’m not John to you, not now, not ever,” the Doctor’s tone is low as he glares down at you causing you to suddenly notice just how tall this regeneration is as he looms over you, enveloping you in his shadow.

“You lost any titles the moment you kissed another, you lost me once you began dreaming of her, and you lost any chance to be together again when you broke me so irreversibly that the Master had to come and help me out of all creatures! You. are. a. monster,” you grip the lapels of his suit jacket firmly between your fingers knowing that you’ll leave more than just creases by the time you were done with him and everything he did to you.

“And what? The Master is some saint?! He killed millions without cause and you call me the monster?” The Doctor's jaw is slack, disbelief echoing in the shakes of his head. You can feel his hearts racing and watch as a few strands of hair fall against his forehead. We’re awfully close holding each other like this, you think to yourself feeling as his warm breath fans your cheek and the gentle yet firm way he holds your hips.

You swallow deeply, the Doctor's gaze immediately locking on to your throat, lingering on a section he remembers kissing the sweetest sounds out of. A thumb now circles your side causing you to bite your lip before responding, “You’ve killed millions too and most certainly more,” you grumble, feeling yourself slowly starting to lose your anger by every circle he traces. I hate the effect you have on me.

The Doctor hums, eyes flicking down to your lips and back up again with a wink, “and I would burn down the whole galaxy again if you simply asked me to.”

Again? You question yet are too caught up on winning the argument to care. “I hate you,” you mumble, adjusting his crooked tie.

“No, you don’t,” the Doctor whispers into your ear while casting Wallace a smirk as he presses you against his chest, “You’ll always love me and I’ll always love you, for better or for worse.”

“What makes you so sure of that?” words becoming slightly muffled as you press your face into his chest, soaking up the pure bliss and protection you feel in the Doctor's arms- like all the pain and suffering I’ve faced just fades away, you swallow deeply knowing this just to be your bond speaking to you but a small part within begs it all to be real, but it can’t, not after everything he’s done, I just wouldn't be right or fair to all the suffering I’ve faced.

The Doctor closes his eyes, grip tightening around you as he places his chin atop your head, “Because we both fear the same thing… the darkness being all that's left and waiting for us at the end.” You let his words linger in the air just like his touch you try and absorb before peeling yourself away, every step like a shot to your chest.

Don’t go, the Doctor's eyes speak, his touch featherlight whilst holding your hand, gaze utterly pained seeing your broken smile that wavers on a frown and you let go, apologizing to Wallace on your way out before making your way to your room without looking back. You could feel the Doctor’s gaze lingering on you until you were out of sight and even then the ghost of his touch still haunted you all the way back to your TARDIS.

─────── · ·

Donna was struggling to keep up to the Doctor's long and determined strides as he blindsighted the various ornate details of the ship on a mission towards the lounge. “Doctor! Doctor,” Donna panted, stumbling into his back in her heels as the Time Lord stopped suddenly. “What’s got you in such a rush? This thing is sinking anyways so I don’t think any of your enemies would be aboard-”

“I just feel something, can’t place my finger on just what it is,” the Doctor cuts his companion off, taking a moment to allow Donna to catch her breath before she loops her arm around his in an effort to pace his strides.

“Well whatever it is it better not be a heart attack since I don’t know the first thing on resuscitating two hearts,” Donna quips while staring at the frosted glass doors before the Doctor bows, inviting her into the room with a teasing smile.

“I’ll show you how to after…” his sentence dies on his lips after losing the fight to a sharp in-take of air when he hears a rather irregular but all too familiar heartbeat in the crowd. A well dressed woman somehow hears his shock from across the room and turns in their seat to meet his gaze. It was like two stars colliding, an explosion of feeling that expands his chest when he hears his title addressed by your very lips and a chill runs down his spine.

He wished he had a way to record this moment, to remember it as vividly as he was feeling it, but that would just be a waste of tape, he thinks to himself seeing as you turn back around without a second glance in his direction. Your rejection stings, acting as if he was just another face in the crowd and to make matters worse jealousy fires through his veins in watching some musician eye you up from the stage. And with a burning passion to have you look at him again, his shoes take action, body twisting and turning through the crowd with polite apologies that too die on his lips seeing as the musician's arm works its way around your waist, a position he remembered fondly taking.

The Doctor almost smirks as your body reacts before your head, turning subconsciously to focus on him and he drinks in your flushed cheeks and wide eyes greedily. “Hello sweetheart,” his hearts sing with utter joy as you are just within reach, his hand lifting to caress your face gently as if you were made of glass.

Another jolt of pain seeing as you lean into the musician has him drawing in want, lean into me, my love, he internally begs and uses a soft tone to try and hide some of his desperation from painting himself to be a pathetic picture in your eyes. “You’re… so you,” he fails to hide his emotions as tears force themselves forwards, “so incredibly, eternally beautiful….” and you pull yourself away again and again from him, each time more painful than the last.

And with every word that takes the form of a sharpened stick staked into his chest, he can only stand still and wounded as you walk away and return to being just another memory that he would hold on tightly to until he forgot how it felt originally.

Feeling as if he is standing alone in a room filled with people, the Time Lords' only stream of conscious thought is on you, how you thought yourself to be forgettable and just how wrong you were. He scouted various dimensions and galaxies, practically ripping time itself apart in an effort to find you after he was done fighting off the remaining Daleks.

A shiver runs down his spine at the memory of standing in his TARDIS empty handed and alone as it too remained silent, the pure agony he felt before the rage that followed when not even the screams of his most wicked enemies could calm his soul. He was vengeful for so long, 700 years of healing to only form a scab as he searched for parts of you in others. The Doctor shakes his head at these thoughts, too painful to bear in the company of others.

“You know Donna… I’ve always had the worst luck in a black suit,” the Doctor tries to joke and distract himself yet receives no reply as Donna’s mind is sent reeling with all the new information she just bore witness to, the dresses, the stars, everything, she thinks to herself whilst peering up at the Doctor. Who are you? Who are you, truly, to have such an impact on such a man… the Lord of Time himself… Yet just before she can ask any further questions, a sliver of the vengeful doctor slips out.

Wallace shuffles on his feet awkwardly, feeling a bit embarrassed by the situation as the over six-foot alien glares down at him, “I’ve killed more people then there are current stars in your galaxy and even if you did manage to get to her… you wouldn’t stand a chance for very long… you wouldn’t even feel it happen.”

“DOCTOR!” Donna breaks their disguise, pure unabashed shock and horror evident in her reaction to the Time Lords threat.

“It's true,” the Doctor adjusts his suit with a shrug, drinking in the horrified human's face with satisfaction before swiftly turning on his feet and returning back to the TARDIS with Donna in tow.

“I can’t believe you would say such a terrible thing to that poor man, Doctor. That really was not right,” Donna tisks disapprovingly while starting to take off her jewelry and gloves into a pile.

The Time Lord rips off his suit jacket as if it burned him, tie following suit as he unbuttons the top of his shirt with a sigh of relief. “You know what’s not right, Donna?” the Doctor rhetorically asks, hands starting to float across the console like he had done a thousand times before.

“Is that without her, I would gladly watch this universe and every other universe burn and take myself away with it but… I don’t… So call me greedy, a bad man, pathetic, a villain, what have you, I simply don’t care anymore!- and that should scare everyone,” the Doctor smiles yet it does not quite reach his hollow eyes, that childlike enthusiasm seemingly lost. Donna knows that look all too well, she’s seen it across her own face and in the faces of others but on the Doctors… it just didn’t look quite right.

Donna turns, grabbing her pile of belongings and heads to her room without another word. The Doctor cracks his neck before leaning down and tinkering underneath the console in order to distract his mind. Donna takes note of the small tremors in his hand before closing her door to the hall and leans against the door. I’ll find you, whoever you are, Donna commands the space in front of her with determined eyes as if she could will you to be in front of her, I’ll find you… and then shove you both in a closet together, she laughs to herself at the thought… Now just how do I find a Time Lord?

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: God its gonna be so hot when they kiss... wait.. who said that?

─ · · FOR ALL TIME TAGLIST: @posionapple24 @azriel64290 @smallerontheoutside @soniiyi @spirit-of-the-hollow @f0x33 @blackoutdays13 @dlljdhsh @staygoldsquatchling02

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