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fanaticsnail · 1 year ago

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You Deserve Better

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist here

Word Count: 5,800+

Synopsis: Zoro has inhaled pollen while lost and away from his crew. His crew return from a day of celebration and tease him for is senseless navigational skills. But you notice something's wrong with him. He's hot. So, so hot. And he needs your help to combat his illness. You want to help him so badly, why won't he let you get Chopper? And why was he holding you like that?

Warnings: Pollen!Zoro x afab!reader, smut, mdni, p in v, mutual pining, apprehension, longing, giving in, pollen, NSFW.

Zoro had gotten lost, his own confident footing carrying him in a rhythmic trudge towards where he assumed the meeting place for the crew was occurring. It was only when he apprehensively knocked on a door of a strange hut, asking the resident for directions, that he was made painfully aware of truly how far away he was from the coordinates. He missed lunch, he missed the meeting and introductions of the town; his absence truly being noticed due to his status as first-mate to the Straw-Hat Pirate crew.

Turning back around, he began the long trek to the docks. His shoulders crushed with unfamiliar twigs, branches, bushels and foreign leaves he was yet to learn the proper names for. Losing his footing, his right foot fell within a small catchment; a deep puddle of water causing him to stumble in his footing, and fall face-first into a bushel of white flowers. He coughed, the pollen entering his lungs through his nostrils and parted lips.

“What the fuck,” he growled, swiping at his face and blowing puffs of air from his nose and gasping for breath. The floral scent stung at his eyes, a rasp catching in his throat and forcing his Adams apple to bob painfully as he gulped his collected saliva in to rid the tang from his tongue.

Sneezing, coughing and sputtering all the way back to the ship, he felt strange. His skin felt hot, his clothes were scratching his skin and overwhelming him beneath the fibers of mixed cotton and twine. He was too hot, he was too sweaty and he was– –what was this feeling? No stranger to rage, anger and frustration; he simply pegged it to be one of the three as he continued to stumble-trip his way back to the ship; his dampened boot leaving a trail of mud behind him.

After his boots finding residency back in familiar territory, he slowly made his way below deck to the kitchen. If he could just avoid everybody, take a drink of water and a shower, he was sure that would quench this rising feeling in his chest. Everything was burning; his face, his esophagus, his chest, his thighs, his calves, his cock —- why was everything so hot?

Of course the cook was in the kitchen, where else would the waiter be at a time like this. Sanji’s lips were moving, his tone lengthy, low and likely taunting him. Zoro paid him no heed, focussing on slowly breathing as his body propelled itself forward to follow through the motions. Just get to the cupboard, get a cup, take the cup to the sink, fill the cup with cool water, drink the cool water, place the cup in the sink, go to his bunk for the night, strip himself naked, furiously pull his cock until his cum painted the inside of one of his old socks, and finally rest. That is what would fix his ailment, he’s certain of it.

Instead, his small calculated routine was halted before he placed the cup back into the sink; his thirst quenched. Following his meticulously thought out actions were stopped by the burning initiated by Sanji’s hand placement on his shoulder, gripping him to gain his attention.

“-there were so many beers and ales, and you didn’t get to sample any of them,” Sanji dryly laughed his taunt back into Zoro’s shoulder. Sanji was expecting Zoro to taunt him back, their comradery being one built on mutual taunts and jabs. Instead, Zoro clenched his jaw harder, his hand almost shattering the cup he was placing in the sink beneath his firm grip.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sanji asked him firmly, pushing the swordsman’s shoulder to turn him to face his grey-blue hues. Zoro kept his eyes shut, his jaw almost breaking with how tightly his teeth were wrenched together. Feeling another rise of the scratchy tickle within his throat, he had no time to bring his palm up to stifle the cough - a small amount of the foreign pollen extending from Zoro’s lips into Sanji’s breathable oxygen.

“Fuck, man, cover your mouth next ti-,” Sanji’s pupils immediately dilating, his waterline swelling with glossy water, “-why doI-I-...” Sanji felt the effects immediately. Eyes widening with panic, a warm blush rising to Sanji’s cheeks, he fled his grip against the swordsman’s shoulder and hastily sprinted out of the kitchen to barricade himself in his crew quarters.

Zoro grinds his teeth, clenches the bench to steady himself against it - nearly breaking with how hard he's clutching it in his white-knuckled grip. Breathing exclusively through his nose, hissing as the elevation of his lungs propels further torture and the flushed heat downwards to sit in his abdomen. Every part of himself was now tense, hard and fighting this rise of emotion.

Alerting Nami you were going to the kitchen to see if everything was okay with the swordsman, his absence missed by the Straw-Hat crew as you all ate foreign foods, drank foreign drinks and learnt the customs of this unfamiliar land. You saw Sanji rush past you, his irises wild, on your way to the area Zoro sat. You became even more unsettled seeing Zoro red-faced and seemingly in excruciating pain as he gripped the sink and benchtop to steady himself against it.

You closed the door of the kitchen behind you, slowly approaching the green-haired first-mate and presenting your palms out to indicate you were not a threat.

“Zoro?” you asked him, keeping your voice quiet but firm, “Are you okay? Is something the matter?”

“I’m fine,” he spat in a winced growl, his eyes clamped shut, “Just get out and leave me alone.”

You furrowed your brows at his harsh tone, unsure of what exactly is coming over him. Both the tone and words catch you by surprise. You almost always kept each other company; finding one another at the end of a grueling battle, sitting side by side at meal times, and often repairing damage to each other’s bodies that were ill-achieved by yourselves. Beyond that, he’s never sent you away. While you’ve seen him snap at others, you’ve yet to be on the receiving end - especially for simply asking him how he is.

Instead of listening to his verbal words of warning, you approached him. While his eyes were shut, you knew he didn't need them open to keep track of your approach. You knew this was a fact for sure when you see his lips curl into a grimace as you get closer, prompting you to wonder if you really should just leave.

Truthfully, the reason for the grimace was coming from the fact he can hear every shuffle of your clothing dragging itself against your body. Your soft breathing rang melodically in his ears, the scent of your warm, spiced perfume dancing with the comforting smell of your skin held his every follicle rising on edge. He was having to pull his mind to reign it in, tethering it on a tight leash to keep it from gnawing on the idea of what it’d smell like if he pressed his nose into your hair or neck or chest. How you’d taste as he gnawed on the flesh of your stomach, how burying his face between your thighs and dancing his tongue against your tender flesh would feel-.

“-You’re making me worry, Zoro,” your soft voice called to him, the small pat of your footsteps indicating to the broody swordsman that your approach was now uncomfortably close. The back of your hand lands on his forehead to check his temperature and he pulls back like you’ve burned him.

“What’s wrong-,” he’s struggling to form the words through the images of your thighs spreading beneath his firm grip. “What’s wrong,” his deep inhale through his nose did little to settle his elevated heartbeat, “Is that you’re touching me when I told you to go away.”

He finally opened his eyes and you were struck with the intensity of them. His snarling mouth, furrowed brow, and scrunching eyelids certainly looked furious, but his eyes were glossy and shaky and darkened by blown pupils.

“Zoro, did you take something? Should I get Chopper?” Sighing out a small breath through your lips, looking between the hazelnut hues of Zoro’s eyes and forming your own deductions. He wanted to close his eyes again because you looked so, so pretty. Too pretty not to touch.

Your eyes widened in confusion as he began to sway forward towards you. He was moving in a way you’ve only seen a handful of times, those times when he’d manage to find enough alcohol to actually become inebriated under the influence of its fermentation.

“Zoro, I’m-,” he lunged in a deep stoop, falling forward to let his face fall into your stomach below your breasts. Allowing a deep inhale, he exhaled a low, shuddered groan into your skin. His body shivered and you feared this may be the worst fever you’ve ever seen of him. No injury, inebriation nor affliction had ever found purchase enough against the first-mate to cause you to worry - until now.

“I’m gonna get you some help, okay?” You informed him, stepping back to get Chopper, only halting your exit as two hands stopped you. One fisted tight enough into your shirt for the seams to pop in protest, while the other sank into your hip.

“Don’t,” he panted. This whole interaction has left you at a loss but you were truly astonished when Zoro nuzzled his face into you and massaged his hand into your hip. “You’re not going anywhere,” he grumbled, letting his voice vibrate against you through your clothes.

“Yes I am. You’re not okay, and I have to take care of you,” you hardened your resolve, reaching down and banding your hands around his wrists.

If it were any other time, his heart would be aching at the worry in your tone. He adored how you cared for him, feeling all of your concern for his well being. However, at this current moment; he can only think of how your voice is so pretty and your body is so warm. And your scent, the intoxicating aroma your glistening skin was whispering and beckoning him to fall trap to your body. How could anyone smell so, so sweet?

You managed to actually get a step back, breaking the brace against his body and placing his hands away from you. Zoro is strong in his grip, but your concern had you force more strength than you thought you could muster. You heard a small rumbled sound, high in pitch and lengthy in elevation.

Zoro whined.

He had the gall to whine at you, making your hair stand on end to be thrown so far from your norm. With you at a distance, Zoro’s strength really did leave him. Your absence drained him, his body deprived of a necessity while writhing. He was a man starving with not a single scrap of sustenance, parched without a single drop of liquid to quench him.

His resolve hardened, his unanswered questions being answered with that single thought. You were a necessity. You would fix whatever this was; he just had to sink himself into by claw, tooth and nail you until no person could possibly tear him off of you.

You watched the towering form of the first-mate sink hopelessly onto his knees, his arms first reaching and clutching for you as soon as you shied away from his embrace, before stuttering them away in retreat. He was trembling, his hands resting on his large thighs with his head hanging low to shield his eyes from your gaze.

"Zoro," you softly called to him, bringing yourself low and resting your weight on your shins. Inching your way forward, you witnessed him suck in a breath and hold it in his chest with his eyes scrunched tightly shut.

"Zoro," you said, reaching your hands down and claiming his wrists in your circular grip, "if you don't want me to get Chopper," you released one of his wrists to collect his chin, "you have to tell me how to help you. What do you want? What can I do?"

Zoro fought harder against himself, every fiber of his being forcing him to continue to hold his breath to halt his urgency to claim you within his arms and never let you go. All of his thoughts were consumed with you: your scent, your softness, your voice, the way you tainted the air with your sweet flavor he desired to taste. He slowly, apprehensively, hissed out a breath, his shoulders quivering and shaking under the influence of the pale pollen propelling his unholy desires and sinful thoughts forward.

"I w-want," he began, halting his words and wincing under your fingertips. Although your touch burned him, he could not bring himself to shy away from your hand. The way you felt, the way you so desperately craved for him to speak his desires and birth them within the air. He stifled once more, every second passing led to more of his control over himself lessening.

"Zoro, let me help you. Whatever you need, know that I'm-," your words were claimed from you, Zoro's towering form caging your body beneath his strong arms. He hovered above you, eyes black with lust and lips parted with longing. He was an animal, the temperature falling off of him elevating your own beneath it.

Wasting not one more second, he collapsed on-top of you, bringing his lips down and pressing rough and desperate kisses along your neck and jaw. All passion: tongue, teeth, lips and caresses - Zoro was consuming you as if he was a man starved and desperate for sustenance only you were able to give him.

The whining, the whimpering, the groaning as his hips begin to roll against your thigh we're spurring your confusion to swirl within the recesses of your mind. While unable to fully process the actions, Zoro began pleading with you; his hot breath against the shell of your ear sending a shiver up your spine.

"I can't-... I-I can't stop," he growled, continuing to rut himself against you. The rough smack of his clothed hips did nothing to hide his impressive length and girth from you. His grinding down into you, the way your body writhed beneath him, propelled him enough to staple you to the ground beneath his hips.

A strong arm had snuck its way beneath you, a splayed hand could keeping your chests pressed flush while his other guided your thigh over his hip. You eagerly wrapped both legs around him to pull him impossibly closer, feeling his taut muscles move and shift under your hold.

He forced both of his hands to your hips, intending to hold them still and pull away, but you rolled them in his grip. His eyes followed suit, rolling back and leaving him to blindly bury his face deeper into your shoulder. “Please let me, I’m s-so so sorry, I cant-...hnng-... I c-can't stop. I n-need you-uu.”

"It's okay, it's okay Zoro," you gasped, your cheeks pressing firmly against his as you heard him stagger his breath and hold onto every word. You raked your fingers through his moss-coloured locks, reassuring him and soothing him by whispering your silencing shushes. Although some dark part of you wanted to continue listening to him beg for you, you instead offered only support and continual reassurance.

You turned your cheek inwards, breaking contact flush against his cheek to press a small brush of your own lips against his smooth skin. This apprehensive and timid gesture prompted him to groan beneath your lips as his skin ignited further.

“More,” he mumbled fervently after the kiss, the affection doing much more to ease his stress than your words were, “Give me more.” The gentle peck was too achingly sweet to only placate him, instantly holding him hostage to his need to feel more of you.

The squeeze of your legs on his waist, and the heat he could feel pressed against his cock even through your clothes, strung him tighter and pulled him further from sanity. The hand in his hair and the brush of your lips, made the haze on his mind feel welcome; The boiling in his veins feel more natural.

You gave him more fluttered kisses on his cheek, then floated your lips up his temple before tilting your head back to cradle him beneath your chin. You raked your arms over his shoulders, your fingertips leaving trails of flamed temptation beneath each pad and digit. Each motion was done to the tune of “more”, “so good”, and “please”.

You were heavily tempted to let him keep you trapped against the floor and caged beneath his weight, being used for his needy grinding; but a moment of clarity hit you. You were in the galley, and your crew members could swing the door wide and see you both like this; writhing and grinding pelvises together in a cruel dance of lewd gyrations.

While you had your own qualms with this, you were sure Zoro would rather die than have him looking in his current state getting back to the ship’s chef. Casting all inhibitions aside at one particularly harsh grind against your clit from his painfully hard cock, you verbalized your concerns for him.

"Zoro, you're behaving like an animal- a beast: wild and rampant with lust,” your whisper carried itself up to his awaiting ears. You didn’t know what came over you, but you retreated away from holding him and pushed him up to view his expression.

“You’re frightening me," you whispered into his face, claiming his cheeks beneath your palms. Both of you were whimpering, panting; eyes wide and lips parted. You leant up to his face, your lips almost meeting for the first time since he caged you beneath him. Holding back the meeting of your lips, you spurred him on with a single three-worded command.

"Do it again."

Zoro growled as he broke away his hand clutching your thigh, fumbling at his hips to unsheathe one of his three blades attached to his belt. As soon as he grasped the hilt of the blade, he tore his torso away from its place against your chest and threw the object to imbed itself within the doorframe: barring the entrance to the kitchen under its sharpened steel.

Looking up at his body, his entire being was overwhelmed with sweat, pooling from his green hair to trickle down his temples to his neck and jaw. The silvery trail of desperation and lust dripped down his chest beneath his shirt and drenching him further beneath the pull of the powerful pollen.

He was not himself, fighting every urge to hold control over his body. He wanted this - he wanted you. Just not like this. He wanted to do things right by you; courting you properly, enjoying his time learning everything there was to know about you. He adored spending his time silently by your side - often shielding you from harm's way and protecting you within the thralls of battle, not that you truly ever needed it.

But the way his cock was straining behind the shield of his pants had his mind cloudy, eyes stinging while attempting to hold the final remnants of control over himself.

“Y-You don’t know what you’ve asked for, Princess,” Zoro growled, his eyes slowly tilting down from contact against the door to slowly fall to meet your widened gaze beneath him. Your breath hitched as you were met with something completely feral overcoming him. His expression depicted his title flawlessly. You were now completely helpless, pinned beneath the towering intense muscle known as Roronoa Zoro: the former demon bounty hunter, pirate, and king of hell.

His eyes held the vibrant lustful intensity of raging flames burning flesh, his predatory grin snapping his face with his grimace. His brow was furrowed in a deep frown, the final band of his control straining against the stretch; thin, pale and ready to snap.

As Zoro gazed into your eyes, holding all that he was from tearing off your garments and sheathing his cock deep within your walls and chasing his release of tension, he continued to clasp onto his final band of control to ensure you were truly okay with your body being used in such a way.

Sensing his apprehension, you swiftfully and gracefully bucked your hips up to meet his, rolling him off of your body and pinning him beneath you. Your hands grasped his wrists and placed them above his head. His teeth grit against themselves, grinding them down painfully to continue holding himself back from ravishing you. He was a swordsman. He was disciplined under the way of the blade.

“Zoro,” you began, sighing down with your eyes upturned in concern, “I know you are not well, and this may be the only solution to your problem.” You reassured him, claiming both of his wrists between your left hand, you placed your right hand over his heart and pressed gently on his chest.

“Let me help you like this, okay?” You offered him a half-smile, “We can work out what it means once you’re through the worst of it. I just want my swordsman back,” you placed your lips against his forehead, feeling the scorch of his flesh burn your lips as he whimpered into your touch. “My knight, my protector,” you whispered against him, pulling back from his face and uttering affectionately, “Just let go. I can take it.”

If you’d held any fondness for your pants and shirt, or your undergarments, there was no ribbon left salvageable as Zoro all but clawed them from your body. His own shirt and pants were not fairing in any better condition lying beside them. The throbbing of his veiny cock curving painfully hard upwards towards his stomach had you wincing in empathy at how hard he was holding back.

The slit was slickened, pearled beads of precum glistening against the shine of his reddened mushroom tip. You could almost see the harsh thundered beat of his heart depicted in the rush of blood swelling his shaft, the veins protruding and pulsating in the air. You couldn’t tear your eyes away, nor halt the fluttered hitch in your breath at the girth of it.

“I-I wanted this to be different,” he breathily confessed, his body moving against his will to cage you beneath him once more. His cock twitched at the opening of your walls, a shuddered groan igniting tingles over his back as his tip prodded you, “I wanted to warm you up, stretch you wide with my hands some so you could take me easier. Y-You deserve better.”

A small shocked scream fell from your parted lips as his body lunged forwards, his hips snapping to fully sheath himself within your walls in one fell strike. You were thankful you allowed yourself to give into the lewd grinds and circled thrusts from earlier to allow some slickness to coat your walls with your arousal. He filled you completely, your body contracting and adjusting to him with each passing flutter.

He bit his lip painfully hard, his eyes scrunched shut as he felt each quiver of your walls soothing over his burning flesh. This was the remedy his body was searching for. He needed you. All of you. Every fibre of you. The taste of you, the smell of your flesh, your sweet cries falling from your parted lips as you adjusted around him. He wanted so badly for this to be as good for you as it was for him, holding his concentration to allow you a moment to catch your breath.

“I can still take you like this, Zoro,” you taunted him with a gentle hum of encouragement. He snapped his eyes to yours, his pupils completely dilated and the corners of his eyes still stinging with concentration to not rail you completely into the harsh floor. You noticed his panicked expression, knowing exactly what his mind was plagued with.

The words left unspoken holding heavy in the air, his eyes begging you to understand his meaning instead of attempting to articulate his words. The throb of his cock within your warmth propelled your heartfelt encouragement onto him.

“D-Don’t you worry about me, okay?” you reaffirmed him, your eyes depicting nothing other than adoration and affection for the first mate, “Use me,” you drew your palm up to his cheek, holding your gaze intimately with his, “Just let go.”

At that final command, he drew his hands over your thighs and hooked them over his hips once more; starting a heavy laden rhythm with the smack of his hips. He withdrew himself almost to his slit before pistoning his cock within your walls fast and harsh. You clapped your hand over your lips to stifle your cries of pleasure as his velvety cock continued its bullying of your cervix.

Every fiber of your being was alight and adjusting to quench the fire of Zoro’s insatiable lust, adoring the chase of his release being pushed brutally into your quivering walls. His cries for you, reciting your name like a prayer as he quested for his salvation buried within your body.

He was an animal, a wild beast possessed his body and propelled him onwards to seek out his pleasure within you. His eyes never left yours; the man you knew before the beast lurking beneath his glazed gaze. Zoro was expressing gratitude and almost sorrow behind his lustful alterego.

“I-I’m so-....nmff-... I’m so sorry,” he whimpered, his pace accelerating harshly. The grip of his hands on your thighs bruised their way up to find purchase on your hips, You squeezed your eyes tightly shut, shaking your head and hooking your arms over his shoulders to draw his head into your neck.

“It’s-... hhah-... okay, Zoro. It’s o-okay, truly,” you reassured him, your voice hitching on each syllable as the snap of his hips accelerated in their bruising thrusts, “I’m okay, y-you’re okay.” Your reassurances held his voice sighing out his relief while he continued to chase his high within you.

His words became jumbled, the mixture of his precum and your arousal squelching sinfully with each harsh slab and thrust of his cock sheathing itself within your walls. If anyone were to walk past the kitchen, they would know exactly what was going on against the floor. Breathy chants of your name fell from Zoro’s lips as the coil within you began to tighten and spark the wick of your approaching orgasm.

Unknown to you at present, as soon as Zoro initially sheathed himself within you; he was holding himself back more to ensure this was an experience as enjoyable for you as it was for him. He was biting his lip so painfully to ensure he didn’t cum as soon as his pelvis met with your own. He wanted to watch you cum, he didn’t want to be a selfish lover and use your body to chase his own high. No matter how torturous it was to hold himself back, he was accustomed to pain and this was no different.

But you noticed. The way his brow was intensely furrowed as his forehead hid itself against the skin of your shoulder. The quiver of his own shoulders and his whimpered cries against you gave you cause to draw such a heinous conclusion. Zoro was in pain, and he was still not seeking the treatment your body was giving him. He was still putting you first.

You sighed as you felt his cock continue to quiver within you with each harsh snap, the pleasure he was bringing to you was overwhelming with the bruising pace he still held. Hardening your resolve, you reached your hands down and dug your nails into his ass cheeks and propelled him to grind himself against you further and deeper. You refused to have this pain elongate further for him, and felt the urge to remind him as such.

“Zoro, cum,” you ordered him, his breath hitching at your command, “I know what you’re doing, idiot. Cum in me. I want you to shoot your cum deep in me. I want to feel you ride out your orgasm with each pulse and throb of your cock. I want your cum so bad, Zoro. Cum in me-.”

“-Fuck! F-Fuck,” He barked, biting down on your shoulder harshly as his cock began to release his built up load immediately into your plush walls. Ribbons of his white translucent paint splashed against your walls, the muffled screams of Zoro’s voice crying praises while latched against your skin. He continued the harsh stuttered pace as he rode out his release.

He was so built up with his relentless pleasure that the pressure of his cum brushed against the underside of your clit, his pubic hair grinding on the topside at the same time and prompting you to ride the waves of your own orgasm alongside his. Lights danced behind your eyes as the spark drew into a vibrant flame.

Your fingernails continued to dig in the muscle of his ass as you both cried in bliss, your mouth agape while his teeth continued to clamp over your shoulder. His tongue lapped behind his teeth as his groans and whimpers began to die down as his hips came to a staggered halt. His cock remained fully sheathed within you, the final twitches and trembles relinquishing his body of the final spill of his load emptied within you.

Panting of dual breaths within the four walls of the kitchen, the fuzziness of Zoro’s mind became once again his own, his eyes losing their glaze and his cock twitched its last within you. You whimpered as you came down from your high, the pain of Zoro’s teeth remaining latched on your neck had the realization dawn on both of you at once.

“I-I…” he stuttered once he released your shoulder from his teeth, “I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He stuttered, pulling out of you with his cum spilling from your opening and pooling on the floor beneath you. His eyes were wide, his lips swollen and bruised. Your own eyes widened at his panic, immediately rising to your elbows and looking up at him.

“You’re sorry we-,” you began, only to halt as he spoke over you.

“-No,” he barked his confession over you, stooping his body over yours once more, “I’m sorry it happened like that.” He wanted so desperately to relay all of his affection onto you, all of his adoration, all of his love - but was now lost for words as your eyes met his.

You darted your eyes between focussing on each of his hazelnut orbs, shifting your focus as you witnessed his afterglow. His body was lighter, his mind no longer plagued by lust. He was once again-.

“-Roronoa Zoro,” you uttered, collecting his hand beneath your palm and allowing a warm smile to spread over your lips, “I don’t regret helping you like this.” You drag your hand over his cheek, pinching his chin between your thumb and index finger and hold his focus with the intensity of your eyes. “I’m glad you’re back to yourself again. If this is where we leave our tryst-.”

“-Absolutely not,” Zoro growled. The rumbled tone of his voice had your breath hitching and mind halting its springing to conclusions, “I want you more than you could ever know.” He leant forward, his eyes shutting as he met your forehead against his own; your cheek still claiming his cheek beneath your palm. His temperature was more bearable, the warmth you were more accustomed to bringing you comfort.

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch and allowing him to shepherd your body to the ground once more. He combed his fingers down the crown of your head, his fingertips gently raking their pads over your jaw as he finally claimed your lips beneath his in a slow and intimate kiss.

He parted his lips, dragging his tongue to meet against your own with a small groan of bliss. You felt him smile against your lips as you drew your arms around his neck once more. Toying with the small hairs at the back of his neck, you angled your jaw upwards to claim more of him against yourself.

The rattle of a door handle broke you away from this moment of private intimacy, the wobble of the door shuddering beneath a strong grip immediately caused you panic. You were naked. Naked on the floor in the kitchen. Your clothes lay beside you in ribbons, nothing aside from a dish towel could be used to shield you from prying eyes.

“Oi, Zoro! What’re you guys doing in there?” The voice of your captain called to you, “You better not be getting all the meat from the fridge! I took that from the celebration, it was your own fault you didn’t get there in time to try any-.”

“-We’re not eating your meat, Luffy!” Zoro roared, breaking his lips away from yours to answer him, “Bring us my yukata and some of my pants, would you?”

“Your Yukata and pants? What happened?” Luffy asked, puzzled momentarily before slyly asking into the door, “And what do I get outta it?” Zoro growled a woeful sigh, lips curling up to a snarl. Your warm smile and giggle broke him away from his anger, his eyes softening as they met yours once more.

“Just bring them, will you? Then we’ll let you get your meat, Captain,” Zoro chuckled while leaning down to press his lips against yours once more. Although the air was lighter, your body began to succumb to the feeling of warmth falling from Zoro in waves. He hoisted you from the floor to sit atop his lap as his back sat flush against the kitchen counter. Seeking out the small bite he’d left on your shoulder, he began pressing fluttered kisses in apologies against your flesh.

“I’m sorry,” he confessed once more between kisses, “I want to do this properly - be with you properly. You deserve better.” You sighed at his words, exposing your neck more to him in a gesture for him to continue pressing kisses into more of your available skin.

“I can take it,” you gasped, feeling his teeth rake slowly against your flesh as he moulded the skin of your back beneath his splayed fingertips. He gasped into your skin, still dizzy from coming down from the risen high between you both but mind truly clear of all prior affliction.

“I know you can,” Zoro grinned into your skin, pulling away to gaze into your eyes. All affection was mirrored between you; eyes half lidded and smiles dopey and tired, “But you still deserve better. Let me treat you better.”

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red-riot-unbreakable-heart · 1 year ago

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Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 2

Previous Chapter: Part 1 | Next Chapter: Part 3

AO3: Linked Here :)

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Shoto Todoroki x Fem Reader! 💋

Genre: Fluff, Romance, S*xual Tension, Making Out

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, semi-spicy scenes, lemon

Link to My Master List

Scenes from the afternoon hookup replay in your mind over and over as you sit in the library at a battered old desk in the history section. All you can think about is Shoto’s mouth. And his hands. And his abs!! And his sweet face.

You twiddle your pen in your hand as you try to draft out an essay for class. Unfortunately, every time you try to jot down a few thoughts your mind goes blissfully blank and you remember the tender way he spoke to you.

"How am I going to get anything done now, knowing that you can kiss like this?"

“You’re so beautiful. Your skin is so soft…I never realized how great it would be to touch you.”

“Find me later so we can discuss this.”

You look down at your watch excitedly – 7:55 PM. You eagerly wait for Shoto to appear so the two of you can talk and – with any luck – canoodle amongst the history textbooks. You sit patiently as the time ticks by.

Soon it’s 8:30 PM. You’re not worried, though. Shoto probably assumed you’d want to get some work done first.

9:15 PM rolls around and you start to get worried. You try to distract yourself with school work as doubt creeps into your mind.

10 PM – Shoto still hasn’t showed.

“Shit shit shit.” You check your phone again and again as you wade through the endless wave of homework your teachers have assigned. You keep losing yourself in a math problem or in a passage of your History textbook, only to remember with a jolt that you were expecting to see Shoto and the bastard hasn’t showed.

At 10:30 PM you realize with a sinking feeling that it’s almost past curfew. You pack up your things and prepare to head back to the dorms. There’s a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach that you can’t shake.

You slide your books into your bag as a anxious thoughts dance through your mind like annoying fruit flies: Does Shoto regret your mid-afternoon hookup? Is he going to pretend it never happened? Did you push him too far? Does he think you’re a slut for stripping off your shirt and basically pressing his face into your naked breasts!? The synapses of your brain jump through dozens of equally horrid and embarrassing scenarios as you march back to your dorm room, blushing furiously with humiliation.

You run through the afternoon’s events in your head for what feels like the hundredth time, trying to find a clue as to why Shoto would have left you waiting alone in the library. Your cheeks burn hotter as you recall the gentle way Shoto had kissed your neck before leaning in to capture your lips in one of his first kisses. "How am I going to get anything done now, knowing that you can kiss like this?" You shiver as you think back to how gentle he was, how each caress felt so loving and intimate.

You shake your head to clear it. Shoto must have a valid excuse for not meeting you in the library as he had promised – no boy could kiss someone that intimately and then instantly cast her aside, right?

Before long, you’re walking through the doors of Class 1A’s dorm building. You shiver with discomfort as you recall how earlier that day you essentially scaled the side of a building for a boy. Does Shoto think you’re an absolute fool with the extremes you went to for a quick make out session? You hope not.

You walk up the stairs and past the common area. You see most of Class 1A studying quietly. Sero, Izuku, Kirishima and Ida sit around one of the kitchen tables reviewing their math homework while some of the girls compare English notes on the couch. To your relief, Shoto isn’t there. Mina waves to you enthusiastically, beckoning you to join her and YaMomo as they review the finer points of Hamlet. You politely decline and make a beeline for your room. You turn the key in the lock and it clicks – within moments, you are blessedly alone.

You toss your heavy book bag to the ground and prepare to wallow in self-pity. It’s 10:56pm and Shoto still hasn’t reached out to you. Your phone is vacant of text messages and your brain is absolutely fried from schoolwork.

You dim your room lights and switch on the favorite fairy lights for some peaceful ambiance. Time for some self-care, bitch! You think resolutely as you swap your uniform for your favorite pair of pajamas. You toss your phone to the floor with abandon and climb into your comfy bed. You breathe in deeply, allowing yourself to revel in the coziness of the dorm room.

You take out your five-minute bullet journal and write a quick list of things you're grateful for: 1. The opportunity to study at UA 2. Your lovely and encouraging friends and classmates 3. Your cozy room and the roof over your head 4. Shoto’s mouth 5. Shoto’s abs 6. Shoto’s goddamn hard AF dick

Um. No.

You snap the journal shut before you get too derailed.

You pull your comforter over your head and sit in silence for a moment. You’ve never been the kind of person to go completely boy-crazy. You always used to make fun of those girls who would go gaga over pretty boys and their texts and their kisses. But as you recall the searing way that Shoto kissed your lips earlier that day, you suddenly understand what all the boy-crazed girly hype was all about. Oh my god. You have a crush. A big sloppy embarrassing crush.

In the silence of your room, you suddenly here a buzzing noise coming from the general direction of your book bag. You struggle to disentangle yourself from your sheets and your journal goes flying. You ignore its crash landing as you slip from your bed and collect your phone from where it lays abandoned on the carpeted floor.

It’s Shoto.

Your heart skips.

Todoroki: Y/N. Are you awake?

You bite your lip, unsure how to respond. Did Shoto just send you his version of “U up?”

Y/N: Yes, I’m still up.

Todoroki: I know it’s late, but can I stop by?

You tense. Oh God – he’s going to come by to tell you that he’s not interested. He’s going to thank you for your time making out and say that you probably should avoid hooking up in the future because it’s a huge distraction. You’re sure that whatever he has to say is going to be negative and leave you feeling embarrassed. Why else would he have skipped out on your rendezvous in the library?

You take a deep breath. You have always been fairly practical with a mind for strategy, two qualities that had really set you apart when you had taken the UA entrance exams. You know that the best course of action here is to rip off the Band-Aid sooner rather than later. Better to know how he feels about your hookup now

Your heart sinks as you type out:

Y/N: Sure, I’ll leave the door unlocked for you. Just come in. Try not to be seen by anyone.

Todoroki: Of course. See you shortly.

Your heart beats double time as you look down at yourself. Your pajama set consists of a silky blue top with matching shorts that don’t leave much to the imagination. You chew on your thumb nervously – should you change into something more appropriate? No – Shoto has seen your boobs. A little bit of leg is not going to kill the half hot half cold hero in training.

You quickly remake your bed and kick your book bag beneath your desk so that the floor is clear. You plop down on your smooth comforter and wait, knotting your hands together as you anticipate Shoto’s arrival.

A few anxious minutes pass, and then you hear gentle footsteps pad down the hallway outside your door. The knob turns quietly, and in a moment Shoto Todoroki steps across your threshold, quietly closing the door behind him. He reaches down to turn the lock with a gentle snap of his wrist.

You take him in – he’s wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a soft white t-shirt. You’ve never seen him dressed so casually before and you assume that these are what he wears as pajamas in the privacy of his own dorm room. His hair is tousled and damp from a recent shower, and the burned side of his face shines where he’s clearly applied some kind of scar cream or moisturizer. His outfit projects a comfy air, but his expression is dark and stormy. Your heartbeat quickens in fear – what could possibly have caused him to be in such a tempestuous mood? Was this about your kissing?

You bite at your lip with worry. But when your eyes lock, his expression softens. In two quick strides, he’s at the bed. He leans in close so that your noses almost touch.

“Hi.” He says softly, before dipping his mouth to meet yours. You blink in surprise as your mouths melt together. His eyes flutter shut as he sinks into the kiss. Pleasure radiates up and down your spine as you kiss him back. He places both his palms on your hips and pulls you closer, letting out a small moan of satisfaction as he slides his tongue into your mouth. How silly you feel for thinking he didn’t want you like this!

After a few moments, you break apart.

“Hey there.” You whisper, bringing your hands up to cup his beautiful jaw. He leans in to kiss you again and you hold him in place. He stops and looks down at you inquisitively.

“I waited for you in the library, you didn’t show.” You say slowly, softly.

“My father decided to take me through some drills in one of the school’s gyms. I only finished a half hour ago.” His expression becomes dull as he speaks. “I’m sorry to leave you waiting. I wanted to see you - but I’m not allowed on my phone during training.”

Relief must have flooded your features, because he tilts his head to the side questioningly. You hold back a giggle – the way his head is tilted makes him look like a sweet dog asking its owner for a treat.

“What’s wrong?”

You sigh and pull yourself further onto the bed, patting the spot next to you as an invitation. Shoto climbs up next to you, sinking into the deliciously soft fabric. His eyes widen slightly in surprise.

“This is so comfortable.” He says, pressing his palm into the plush fabric beneath him. You recall his sparse traditional bedroom and realize that he’s never laid on a proper puffy mattress before.

“Hold on – it gets better.” You say pushing him off the bed so you can pull down the covers. You slip beneath the comforter and gesture for him to rejoin you. He climbs in clumsily, unsure how to position himself within the sheets. You prop a pillow beneath his shoulders as he lays down on his side. You toss the comforter over the two of you and lay across from him, feet almost touching beneath the warm layers of bedding.

“Cozy?” You ask as Shoto settles into the bed.

“Yeah.” He says in quiet voice, propping himself up on an elbow. “I always thought beds like this were excessive but…maybe there’s some merit to this.” He eyes a blue Squirtle plush that sits next to you in the bed. “Can I…hold that?”

You grin, biting back a laugh as you reach over to grab the Pokémon plush. “This is Squirtle – he’s one of my favorite plushies.” You hold up the stuffed animal and wiggle it in front of Shoto’s eyes as if it’s dancing. “Squirtle, Squirtle” you say in a low tone, trying to emulate the television character’s voice the best you can.

Shoto gives you a weird look. “I don’t get it. Why are you just repeating its name in a strange voice?”

“Shoto…have you…have never seen Pokémon!?” You almost screech in disbelief, before throwing a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself. You quickly remember that you are in the dorms and the walls aren’t super thick.

“No, I wasn’t allowed to watch television unless it was about Pro hero work.” Shoto says, a tinge of sadness flowing along with his words. “But it looks cute and round and I really just want to hold it and squish it?”

“Yeah, that’s the general reaction to plushies. Dude, we need to get you that whale pillow you liked on Pinterest. You need more cuteness in your life.”

“Well I have you, don’t I?” Shoto smiles softly. “You bring more than enough cute into my life.” He reaches out and grabs the plush from your hands and squishes it a bit. “But this is pretty nice, too.”

Your face grows hot at the compliment. Shoto tucks the Squirtle under his arm and shifts around in the sheets until he finds a comfortable position. He looks adorable and soft as he cradles the bright plush in his strong, muscular hands.

When he finally settles in, he looks up at you enquiringly. “What’s wrong?” He repeats, looping you both back to the conversation form earlier.

“So…” You sigh with embarrassment. “When you didn’t show up and I didn’t hear from you…” You pause and Shoto gives Squirtle a squeeze. “I thought you didn’t want to see me again. Or at least that you didn’t want to make out with me again.”

“Oh.” Shoto wasn’t expecting this. “I thought I made it very clear how…enthusiastically…I enjoyed our time together this afternoon. I didn’t realize I had left any room for you to question my attraction to you.”

“That’s nice to hear…but when you didn’t show at the library or send a text, I assumed the worst. My mind kind of went into full-blown panic mode. I thought maybe once you had time to reflect on our hookup, that you realized you didn’t like it or that you didn’t really like me. To be perfectly honest, I’ve never felt that way before. Usually something like this wouldn’t bother me.” You take a deep, steadying breath. “But I think I really like you and want to be close to you, and the thought that you might not feel the same was tearing me apart for the last couple of hours.”

The words come tumbling from your mouth before you can stop and think them through. Why are you saying all of this!? Why does being around Shoto make you feel so comfortable and open to sharing? It’s so weird – and you’re absolutely sure he’s going to think you’re some kind of over sharing freak for telling him all of this.

Shoto looks at you thoughtfully for a long moment before speaking. “Something I have always admired about you is your ability to be straightforward about what you’re thinking and feeling. Most people aren’t like that, and I have a hard time navigating more subtle situations. Thank you for telling me exactly what you’re thinking – I value it so much.” He runs a hand through his slightly damp hair, moving the bangs out of his bright eyes.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I had abandoned you. I wanted to come to the library so badly. I want to kiss you so badly – it’s all I’ve been thinking about tonight.” His voice is so earnest that you believe him.

“Let me match your honesty with some of my own - my father is extremely strict. Ever since I was born, he’s pushed me to be better. To be stronger. He wants me to surpass him. He wants me to take All Might’s place as the number one hero.”

You gasp at this. Of course you knew that Todoroki was ambitious, but this…

“I don’t have any intentions of becoming harsh and cruel like my father. I’m not even sure if I want to go for the top spot on the hero charts.” He admits, almost bitterly. “That’s the path that my father has laid out for me. He’s obsessed with my training. With my ‘potential.’ But he doesn’t seem to give a fuck about how I feel. Excuse my language.” Shoto looks so sad, so despairing. He hugs the plush close, his chin tucked into his chest as he continues.

“I just want to help people and make them smile – just like All Might. But my old man just doesn’t seem to get that. Today, when he noticed how distracted I was… he didn’t ask if something was wrong. He just pushed me even harder.” Shoto avoids your gaze. “I think he purposefully pushed me to train into the night to keep me from meeting up with you. In his eyes…you’re a huge distraction for his prized creation.”

Suddenly you notice how exhausted Shoto looks – there are pale bags beneath his eyes. You scan his body and see light bruises beginning to form on the exposed skin of his arms. You wonder - just what kind of training has Endeavor been subjecting him to?

You had never guessed that behind Shoto’s calm and collected exterior, there is just a normal teenage boy trying desperately to please his father, while simultaneously trying to defy him. The whole relationship seems complicated and messy and you’re sure what Shoto is telling you is only the tip of a chaotic Todoroki family dynamic iceberg.

“Oh, Shoto.” You say softly. You scoot forward and wrap your arms around him. He freezes, unsure of what to do but nevertheless comforted by the sudden closeness. You reach behind him and card your fingers through his hair. You see goose bumps emerge across his skin, and realize that he likely hasn’t been touched this way before.

“Is it okay to touch you like this?” You whisper.

He breathes out a shaky “yes” as he moves to toss the Squirtle plush to the floor. Once his arms are free, he works to wrap them around you. He rests one strong hand on your back and slings the other around your delicate waist. He draws you close to him and holds you tightly as you continue to run your fingers softly through his two-toned hair.

He’s silent as he buries his head into your shoulder. There’s an emotion that’s radiating off of his body that you can’t quite place – sadness? Frustration? Maybe even relief? After a few moments of running your fingers through his hair and gently up and down his back, he finally starts to relax. The tense muscles in his shoulders loosen, and he seems to come back to himself.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He whispers, muffled as he turns his face into the crook of your neck. “I’m not great at expressing my emotions. I can try to put it into words…I’m feeling so weighed down right now.”

“Because of your father’s expectations?” You prompt, running a light fingertip down his spine. He shivers a bit in response, but not in an unpleasant way.

“Sometimes I wonder if he sees me as a real person, as a son. Or am I just his big project?” Shoto wonders aloud, his voice a bit strained. You feel his eyelashes flutter against the sensitive skin beneath your jawline.

“Shoto...that sounds like a lot to carry. You’re just a high school student – your father shouldn’t be putting that kind of pressure on you. It’s not normal.” You tuck a lock of red hair behind his porcelain ear. “This situation sounds so complicated. It’s no wonder you feel so conflicted. I’m here any time you need a friendly ear to listen as you work through it.” You continue to caress him softly over his clothes. He begins to lean into your touch hungrily. “But right now – at this moment – you’re safe. In this room, in my arms, you don’t need to hold other people’s expectations of you in your heart. When you’re with me, I want you to feel that you can just be Shoto.”

You still your fingers as you let your words sink in. Shoto is radiating a deep sort of sadness that you wish you could smooth away with your fingertips.

“Thank you.” He says, his voice breaking a tiny bit as he processes your words. After a few beats Shoto exhales deeply, his breath ruffles your hair. “I’m not used to talking about these things. Actually, I’m not really used to talking much at all. Or being touched.” You can feel the blush on his delicate cheeks warm the skin of your neck.

“I can tell.” You say before you can stop yourself. To your surprise, he chuckles.

“I don’t know why it’s so easy to do these things with you – talking, touching…kissing.” He lifts his head off of your shoulder to look you square in the face. “There’s something about you…”

Suddenly, the room feels as if it’s charged with Denki’s electrification quirk as his bright mismatched eyes meet your own.

“I think I’d like to continue exploring this with you.” He says matter-of-factly, moving his legs to intertwine with yours.

“W-what does that mean?” Your breath catches in your throat as he dips forward to kiss down your neck.

“It means…I want to keep doing this. Kissing. Talking. I suppose I want to keep getting to know you like this? Intimately.” He places a soft kiss in the hollow behind your earlobe. “Would you like that as well?”

“Yes.” You breathe, with zero hesitation. He smiles into your neck before running the edges of his teeth lightly across your smooth skin. You let out a soft moan in response.

“Good. Then we’ll figure this out together.” He moves to kiss your cheek soundly before releasing you from his embrace. “But right now it’s well past midnight, and we both need our sleep if we’re going to continue to be top of our class alongside YaMomo and Ida. If we both let our grades slip, it might tip people off.” He moves to get off the bed.

“Hey – wait!” You grab his arm and pull him back under the covers. “I have no problem with you staying here for the night.”

“But wouldn’t that be inappropriate?” Shoto’s face reddens, but he lets himself be drawn back into your gentle embrace.

“Would it be anymore inappropriate than you making out with my tits?” Shoto’s face burns an even brighter red at this question, but he also looks quite pleased with himself (you assume he’s recalling the way he kissed down your breasts earlier that day as he smirks). “Sharing a bed should be perfectly responsible as long as we keep all of our clothes on. You said you want to explore? Well get over here and let’s figure out if you make a good big spoon.”

This earns one of those rare full smiles from Shoto – he practically glows. “Alright.”

He pulls himself close to you. You reach above your head and switch off the string lights that wind their way around your room, and the tiny dorm fills with darkness.

You turn to face the wall and scoot your body back until you feel Shoto’s solid warmth. He reaches around to pull you close until bodies are touching, flush together. You tuck yourself into Shoto’s warm, muscular body and sigh with contentment.

“So do I make a good big spoon?” He questions, tentatively nuzzling his face into your hair and inhaling deeply. “Mmm, your hair smells like lavender.”

“We’ll need plenty of practice to truly ascertain the full range of your spooning abilities.” You say in a faux-academic voice, causing him to snort out a laugh. “But so far you’re doing great.”

You interlock your legs and pull his strong arms around you. You wiggle a bit as you try to find the comfiest spot in the mattress. You unintentionally grind a bit against Shoto and jolt when you feel something hard pressed against the curve of your ass.

“Sorry.” He mutters softly, embarrassed.

“Maybe I’ll take care of that for you tomorrow.” You yawn as you close your eyes and settle in for a good night’s rest. You grin into the darkness as you feel Shoto’s dick get even harder as he mulls over your response, wondering at what you could possibly mean by “take care of that.”

You didn’t realize you were so tired. You’re dimly aware of Shoto’s breathing growing slow as he drifts off into a comfortable sleep. You smile softly to yourself as you slide further into his embrace. This poor, touch-starved boy has been through so many terrible things and your heart aches for him.

Even in sleep he’s tense, his jawline stiff and his muscles almost locked around you. But he’s warm and soft and smells like jasmine and mint tea. You hope that for the next few hours you can provide him with a safe harbor to rest and escape his troubles. You let your eyes flutter close and breathe in deeply, dreaming of Shoto’s sweet face as you fall gently into sleep’s embrace.

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

Part 3

Previous Chapter: Part 1 | Next Chapter: Part 3

🔥 Link to My Master List 🔥

Shoto's First Kiss Series:

Part 1: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋

Part 2: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 2

Part 3: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 3

Part 4: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 4

Part 5: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 5

Part 6: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 6

Part 7: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 7

Part 8: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 8

Part 9: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 9

1K notes · View notes

withleeknow · 4 months ago

Text

wishful thinking. (08)

chapter eight: ships in the night

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; i’ve been told this is the angstiest chapter yet saur yk you’ve been warned, mentions of past seggsy times, oc is self-deprecating self-sabotaging, oc has an anxiety attack in this one, erhm just Big Sad overall methinks, also could've been more edited but i am a godless monster word count: 7.2k note: wt is backkkkkk!! and it's the penultimate chapter omg :( lowkey nervous about how this is gonna be perceived bc i feel like my brand is Sad™️ and i haven't properly written anything Sad™️ in a WHILE. but yeah, wt8 is yours now have funnn. also ty chessica @matchannie for proofreading!!

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Sorry, I know that comment wasn’t funny Just wanted you to love me, but I didn’t go about it right Sometimes the best advice that I can give Is to bite my lip and listen with my big fat mouth shut tight

big fat mouth - Arlie

You don’t think you can ever forget the look on his face, the hurt in his eyes when the words had tumbled out of your mouth in a panicked frenzy. The regret was immediate, but so was the damage.

Saying things you didn’t mean, watching Minho so utterly defeated that it kills you, and the deafening silence after he had walked away from you on heavy footsteps – you can’t describe how it all felt that night. It’s just… sinking, and sinking, and sinking; endlessly spiraling in an ocean of your own guilt and despair. It’s true what they say – misery loves company.

Distractions don’t work, because whenever that overwhelming dread eases by even a fraction, you’re once again reminded by the bracelet that’s wrapped around your wrist with the tiny dove charm hanging on the side. Neither of you paid it any mind the other night, that much is clear.

You know you should return it to him eventually; it’s never belonged to you and it never will. But every time you go to take it off, you can’t bring yourself to simply undo the clasp and hide the bracelet somewhere you can’t see. It lets you delude yourself into thinking that you haven’t lost him even after what you said, even after you stomped on his heart and left it bleeding where you stood.

You’d been upset, thinking that you were the only one falling, terrified that you’d crash headfirst into the cold, hard ground because there’d be nobody to catch you. And yet, when Minho told you he loved you, it provided you no relief at all. The fear magnified tenfold, taking over you until you couldn’t see straight, until it consumed you whole.

Home is something you find, and you’ve found it in him. Your sun and your spring and your home, and everything good that you can ever name.

All your life, something is always missing, an empty space that you never learned how to fill. Like when you exit a room and there’s a nagging feeling in your gut telling you that you’ve forgotten something even though all of your belongings are accounted for. Like when you lose your favorite ring, one that’s a little too loose but beloved anyway, slipping over your knuckle without your permission and disappearing forever, and you keep running your fingers over where the golden band used to be until you come to terms with the fact that it’s never coming back and you’ll spend the rest of your life mourning the loss of that familiarity.

You’ve always looked for things you lost in places you’ve never been.

You just want to go home, but you know you’ll only ruin it in the end.

The problem has never been Minho or anybody else. It’s you, and how there’s something intrinsically wrong with you. You paint the ending before there’s even a beginning. You’d rather run and hide than let yourself feel anything, because if there’s happiness then there’s going to be hurt inevitably.

You don’t want him to wake up one day and look at you like you’re a stranger, to realize that he’s wasted his time and effort, that you just weren’t worth it after all.

It’s funny how, when you’re a child, time seems to move so quickly. One minute, you’re four, maybe five years old, and your mother is refusing to speak to you because she thinks you ruined one of her bags, a large scratch running along the otherwise smooth leather surface like it’s been met with a pair of scissors or simply accumulated on her way to work and she hadn’t noticed until she got home and you happened to be in the vicinity of her anger; the next, she’s letting you relish in all your favorite desserts, cavities be damned.

One minute, you’re being rushed to the hospital with a bad case of food poisoning, your parents staring down at you as if you’re actually about to die; the next, you’re already at home, watching cartoons that you couldn’t understand but you like anyway because they’re full of pretty colors and princesses and fairies.

You don’t remember how your mother came to forgive you for the bag even though it wasn’t your fault, or what the hospital felt like or if what the doctors and nurses did to make you feel better even hurt. You only know that you wish to return to a smaller version of yourself whose memories you can’t even recall, return to a time in which you once so desperately wanted to escape from.

Now, when you’re hurt, time doesn’t pass in a blink of an eye like it used to. It stands still, sucks you down a vortex and makes you feel everything.

No one ever really warns you about growing pains, that they’re unavoidable no matter how hard you try to avoid them, that they can last a lifetime because you never really stop growing, and it never really seems to ache any less.

Hyunjin: Attachment: 1 Image. Hyunjin: i sent this one in Hyunjin: u??

You’d almost forgotten about the exhibition until Hyunjin had sent you those texts. Even though you’re not one to neglect deadlines, you suppose it’s fairly reasonable that this one in particular had slipped your mind. You haven’t really been able to wrap your head around that many things after all.

Every semester, yours and Hyunjin’s department rents out a gallery near campus for a whole week to showcase students’ works. It’s nothing exclusive, nothing like a competition where they pit a couple hundred kids against each other just for a spot at a fancy art gallery. Almost anyone in the Faculty of Arts can register before the submission deadline, and you suppose that’s another reason why you’d overlooked it so easily – because you didn’t earn it. It didn’t feel special. It was just another meaningless event to attend.

Regardless, you spent a chunk of an afternoon pondering your selection though it didn’t matter that much, almost two hours dedicated to picking out paintings you realized you didn’t love. Some you even turned out to hate, even though you could remember the pride radiating from you the moments the canvas had felt the last brush stroke. Maybe the glamor eventually wore off, the momentary high that coursed through you when you’d shown your finished works to your professors and peers, and received showers of praise in return.

The piece you chose in the end wasn’t your favorite by any means, but it was one of the only pieces you could still bear to look at without nitpicking too much. It was a painting of the waters, and you’ve always loved the waters.

You could recall the day you went to the promenade by yourself with a need to be away from everyone and everything, and an overshirt that was too light to combat the September evening chill as summer transitioned into fall. You watched the sky slowly darken after the sun had disappeared from view, watched as the buildings on the other side of the river lit up one by one until they made up for the light that retired for the day.

The thin layers made you shiver – the consequence of your poor choice in clothing that night – but there was something about sitting by the waterfront after dark, kicking pebbles around underneath your feet, and the gentle caress of the wind on your face and your hair that made the cold feel welcoming. You always thought the city was more beautiful at night, more calming amidst all of its perpetual chaos. It made you feel like you were inside a dream long forgotten, took you back to a north star that you left to gather dust on an abandoned shelf.

You could recall wanting to dive into that dream again, a dream in which you could chase a perfect version of you that would never exist and find light at the end of the tunnel, instead of returning to the reality where you always wound up suffocating in darkness. You wanted to be free, free from the noise and free from your own life despite one simple truth that you knew all too well – that you could run but never from yourself.

When you were young, it’s the moon that used to follow you everywhere. As you get older, it’s all of the things that keep you up at night.

You could recall your phone buzzing to life in your bag with Minho’s name on the screen, like a sign from the universe saying “Hey, this one’s for you. Don’t drown. You have a lighthouse.” and it was as though he could sense that you were falling, like someone had tied your heart to a rock and threw it into the very river in front of you to sink to the bottom. Your friends often said he had some sort of sixth sense when it came to you. Maybe there was some truth in that.

His voice pulled you out of it, even though he only called to ask if you wanted to come over and eat the boatload of food his mom had sent. He made you want to disappear a little less and in that moment, it was enough.

You left your hiding place to go to him, to lose yourself in stupid jokes and not-too-sweet desserts even if it was only for a couple hours. And when you returned home that night, everything spilled onto the canvas just from memory alone, from the feeling that you were desperately clinging onto with your shaking hands.

You always thought you could only run away to places. You didn’t know people could be escapes too, and somewhere along the way, that was what Minho became to you — your treasured escape, your new hiding place.

You manage to avoid everyone – with the exception of Hyunjin; you do have to see him in class after all – over the two and a half weeks leading up to the exhibition, drumming up excuse after excuse to bail whenever any of them asks to grab a bite together or just to simply hang out. If they saw you, they’d notice your puffy eyes and ask if you’ve been crying. They would ask why, and you can’t find in yourself to make up a lie believable enough for that kind of question.

You think Hyunjin has noticed. He’s a bit of an idiot sometimes, but he’s not stupid and he’s still blessed with the gift of sight. He doesn’t mention anything though, despite you showing up to almost every class with puffy eyelids. You suppose you’re grateful for that.

Minho hasn’t talked to you at all since that night. Doesn’t ask you how your project’s going, doesn’t ask you about the exhibition, barely even speaks in the group chat, not even a boring comment about the weather. What were you expecting anyway? You get it, you do.

But despite the silence, you never doubted that he would show up to the exhibition. If not for you, then he would be there to support Hyunjin.

The only person who really has an inkling that something is wrong is Jess, when you were getting ready together earlier tonight and she helped you conceal your puffy eyes. She’d tiptoed around the question before settling on asking “Everything okay?” — simple, easy, quickly dismissible if you didn’t feel like sharing.

You didn’t, and she dropped the subject because there was no point in badgering you for answers anyway.

Chan picked the both of you up afterward, and Jess didn’t have to explain anything to him when she slipped into the backseat with you instead of riding next to her boyfriend.

Now here you are, standing in a room full of your friends and peers, wearing a black dress that Jess helped you choose, and Minho is nowhere to be found. You’d spent all day pacing around, anxious at the mere thought of seeing him and even talking to him. What you hadn’t anticipated was the disappointment, the unbearable feeling in the pit of your stomach in response to his absence. You can’t tell which is worse; maybe every moment without him all sucks the same.

When Hyunjin starts whining and takes out his phone to spam Minho’s messages demanding his location (you’re thankful that it didn’t have to come to you), all he receives in return is a measly “Running late.”

And that’s it. A mere text is enough to satiate everyone’s curiosity. Well, everyone but Hyunjin, because he’s still a nagging drama queen.

Minho is running late, and to anyone else, it’s the most normal thing in the world.

But to you… it means something beyond that. Because this was him. This was your Minho. Your Minho who’s never been known for his tardiness, who’s never once broken a promise, who’s always there for you no matter what.

All you know right now is his absence, and it makes you sink.

You sink, and then you wait. Not a lot to be done about it.

You slip away to a quiet spot, a vacant hallway, to be by yourself while everyone is out there wandering around and gorging themselves on the free food and drinks. You shouldn’t be with them anyway. All you need is to wallow in peace and not be the black cloud hanging over everybody’s heads.

There’s something so incredibly lonely in the act of waiting. Waiting to board a plane, waiting in line at the grocery store. Waiting for a phone call or text message that you know won’t come, waiting for a person whom you can only hope would show up. At the end of the day, that’s what waiting is, isn’t it? It’s wanting. It’s hoping, and if there’s one thing you know about hope, it’s that it’s dangerous.

You wonder if this is how Minho felt all this time, waiting on a girl who’s always prepared to leave. You wonder if, that night, he had expected you to reciprocate his feelings. You did. You do, and a part of you wanted to tell him that you loved him too. The words were there, and yet…

It’s true that you love him, and it’s true that you don’t want to. If hope is dangerous then love is fucking terrifying.

He’d been so patient with you, so awfully gentle and quiet in the chasm of his waiting that you mistook the tenderness for everything except for what it actually was – love. Or perhaps you did know. Maybe deep down, you knew that you would’ve loved him back with everything you had, with every fiber of your being. That you would’ve let him be the only one to ever really know you, and it felt like a fear greater than you could bear.

In the end, did you lose him? Can you lose something you never had? It wasn’t a love that you let slip away; it was a what if.

You’re in a room with people who love you and yet, all you can think about is Minho. You miss him so much that it feels like someone has spliced you in two, that it physically makes you ache every second that he isn’t with you. As selfish as it sounds, you want him to walk through the door and you want everything to be okay again. You want to be back in a bubble with just the two of you and a locked box filled with words unsaid. You thought you could stay in that bubble forever, where it was safe and you could pretend that you were happy, and maybe you really were happy with him. But all things — good or bad — must come to an end. The bubble burst, and this was the real world.

You want to undo your cruelty, want him to take back his sincerity. You want an ocean of distance between you and him, you want to pull him as close as humanly possible. All your wants are contradictions. You’re a paradox of puzzle pieces that never seem to fit together.

You want to tell him that it hurts. Want him to make it better because he’s the only one who can make it better.

But miracles rarely happen and there are no shooting stars in sight. Minho was the closest thing you got to a shooting star, burning across your night sky for just a brief moment. Blink and you could miss it. Blink and you did miss him.

Your fingers find his contact in your phone before you could stop yourself, and soon enough, you’re pressing the call button. It’s like drunk dialling, only you aren’t intoxicated. Or maybe you are; maybe you’re under the influence of his absence and how much it stings.

You don’t know why you’re calling him, don’t know what to even say when he picks up.

Thankfully, you don’t have to wonder for long.

“Your call has been forwarded to voicemail. Please leave your message after the tone,” comes the automated voice on the other end.

For some reason, you don’t hang up. You wait for the beep, then you wait some more. It’s not until ten seconds later that you find your voice, the only thing to come out of your mouth is a quiet Hey.

You clear your throat, rub the sweaty palm of your free hand on your dress. “Hey,” you try again. “It’s… me. I’m at the gallery with everyone. Uhm, they’re all waiting for you. Are you on your way? Are you stuck in traffic? Or did you forget it was today? Hyunjin is trying really hard not to blow up your phone–” You pause to chuckle dryly. “But you know it would mean a lot to him to have you here. It… it’d mean a lot to me too if you were here. I don’t know, I assumed you’d come. I’m sorry, that was stupid of me. I just…” Another pause. This time, it’s so that you could take a breath. “Listen, Minho, I didn’t mean what I said to you. I’m sorry I was an asshole. I’m sorry that I hurt you, I don’t have any excuse for that. You deserve better than me. It’s going to pass, you know? I’m sorry if you’ve wasted your time on me, but… you’re going to find someone else, and you’re going to get over it. I’m sorry I fucked everything up. It’s fine if you never want to talk to me again, just please don’t let it get between you and our fr–”

The line beeps again. “To replay the message, press 1. To save the message, press 2. To delete the message, press 3.”

You purse your lips together. There’s still a lump in your throat and no peace to be made. It’s like drunk dialling, only you pull yourself together at the very last second. Your thumb hovers over the dial pad on your phone until you eventually end up on 3, because your cowardice will always triumph in the end. Back to square one. Everything’s still the same as it was five minutes ago.

You force your legs to move, like how you'd force yourself to get up and eat and drink water and shower and be a person these days. When you round the corner, you bump against something solid. A person. The collision isn’t hard enough to knock you backward; they weren’t moving, they’d only been standing still.

You look up at Seungmin, who merely blinks at you. You don’t know how long he’s been here, if he heard anything at all. You swallow once, considering whether you should just play dumb and gauge his reaction or ask point blank if you’ve been caught. He beats you to the decision though.

“You and Minho,” Seungmin says, a bit hesitant, like the topic is weird to bring up. “You’re the girl.”

A deer in headlights, you are. A pathetic one at that, too.

But even then, you’re not panicked, not really. You’re just sad, and the truth was bound to come out eventually.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” you say.

The discarded voicemail that he overheard, the dejection written all over your face, the silence from both you and Minho recently — it’s obvious to pretty much everyone, and Seungmin is smarter than most.

He opens his mouth and shuts it again like he’s choosing his words. The Seungmin-esque blank stare melting away to make space for some pity, then a question, “Is there anything left to tell?”

You escape to the empty garden in the back where there were a few lonely chairs set up, so you could have some privacy to talk. Despite everything, it feels like you’ve got a little breathing space, just being able to share this with someone. To not have to carry it all on your own. You’re glad that it was Seungmin who found out first. You have a feeling that he would understand, at least to some degree. You’re relieved, even when the first question that he asks is, “So, how did you fuck it up?”

“Why do you just automatically assume it was me?” You’re mildly offended, even though he’s right.

“Between you and Minho, I’d bet on you.” Seungmin shrugs. “You spook easily.”

“I deeply resent that notion.”

He turns to look at you, no trace of any teasing. “Can you prove me wrong?”

But you can’t, and it tells him as much when you avert his eyes in favor of the ground, where you kick at a lonesome pebble sitting among the grass. It lands somewhere between the green blades, lost in the shadows that cast over parts of the garden that are poorly lit.

“So what happened?” he asks, turning away again to stare out at the empty space. You like to think of it as him giving you some elbow room, to ease the pressure of being scrutinized. And as much as you appreciate it, it still takes you another brief moment before you can formulate a coherent sentence, another minute of twiddling your fingers in your lap.

You tell Seungmin about your first night with Minho – not the details, of course; that would be weird and it’s none of his business. Just that it happened, how you both let it keep happening over the past few months while nobody suspected a thing.

Seungmin nods solemnly, like he’s putting together the missing pieces.

“Did you ever notice anything?” you ask.

“I mean… not about you hooking up, but we thought you’d end up together eventually.” He shrugs. “We always kinda assumed that you two would become those people who make a pact to get married if you’re still single by 40 or 50, if you didn’t get together before then. It makes sense. You and Minho just sort of make sense.”

“Oh,” you say. Your heart swoops. Hearing it from Seungmin makes you sad. Not the same brand of sadness that you’ve been wearing lately though. A different kind, the kind of sadness that’s a little numbing and makes it difficult to breathe. “Well, sorry to disappoint everyone but I don’t think any of it is gonna happen anymore.”

“So… how did it happen?” Seungmin asks again, mimicking explosions with his hands.

You let him off easy without a punch in the shoulder, because you just really don’t have the energy for it right now. “Minho wanted something more,” you tell your friend, fiddling with the rings on your fingers, then with the necklace charm resting on your collarbone. “And I just… I don’t know. I guess I freaked. I… said some awful stuff to him.”

Seungmin hums a sound of acknowledgement. He looks like he’s thinking about it, about you and Minho and what it means. “Classic,” he chuckles after a brief moment, mostly to himself. Maybe he’s thinking about what it means beyond just the pair of you too.

You side-eye him. “You’d know all about it, wouldn’t you?”

He shoots the glance back at you. “What are you trying to say here?”

You remember her, the only girl that Seungmin has ever hinted at liking. He never admitted it out loud to any of you, but you could all see it.

You only used to see her in passing at house parties, and even then, it wasn’t Seungmin nor her who brought the other one around. They would show up separately with their own group, mingle for a while, find each other after a couple of drinks before they disappeared to god-knows-where for the rest of the night. Sometimes, Changbin or Hyunjin would catch them before they could sneak off and insist that Seungmin let everyone get to know his friend.

These brief interactions are all you have with her, meaningless small talk for a few minutes before Seungmin’s patience ran thin and he whisked her away like they’d both intended. You liked her; she was nice, and she was really pretty. You liked her even though you didn’t know her, because she was the one person who Seungmin cared about enough to keep away from prying eyes. A secret shared only between the two of them, a bubble in which only they existed.

The last time you saw her with him must’ve been at least three months ago, maybe even longer. No one really knows what happened, just that she stopped showing up to parties, and Seungmin never brought it up again. You all assumed whatever he had going on with her had run its course, though it doesn’t really stop Hyunjin and Jisung from mentioning her every now and again just to tease him.

“I seem to recall a Halloween party last year and a certain someone was in a bee costume and–”

“Fine,” Seungmin interjects, rolling his eyes. “Fine, we can form our own dumbass club. Happy?”

You laugh a little, even though the whole thing isn’t very funny. Your shared experience is nothing to take pride in.

“So how did you blow it up?” you ask.

He gives you a sour glare before his eyes soften. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and in his silence you find that you and him are more similar in ways that you’ve never cared enough to admit before. This sadness that you carry, you have a feeling that he knows it all too well.

“Like I said, classic,” Seungmin tells you. “She wanted something more. I freaked. I ghosted her.”

A mirror. Two sides of the same stupid coin.

You lean back against your seat. “Did you like her?”

It takes a beat, but his answer comes out as an honest, “Yeah, I liked her. Liked her too much.”

“Why did you do that to her then?”

“Why did you do that to Minho?” Seungmin deadpans, but he doesn’t seem to want a response from you. He just sighs, wistfully adding, “I’ve thought about it a lot. It’s scary to be wanted because it means someone’s putting you on a pedestal, and when you’re on a pedestal, the more it’ll hurt if you fall off. The more they’re counting on you to not let them down, the easier it is to fuck it all up. People like us, we’re flight risks. We can’t help it. We think it’s better to just leave before we can do any real damage. When you said whatever terrible shit you said to Minho, that was the first thing you thought about, right? To be cruel? That’s what I did too. Such a fucking stupid knee-jerk reaction.”

You don’t know how to respond, so you just sit there, completely still.

Then Seungmin turns to you, and for the first time in all the years that you’ve known him, he’s looking at you, really looking at you. No snarky side-eye, no playful faux glare. Just a strange and unfamiliar sincerity, like he’s asking you to fix what he couldn’t, undo the cruelty that he never bothered apologizing for.

“Minho would understand, you know? If you’d just talk to him,” Seungmin says. “You made a mistake in the heat of the moment. But you want to have something real with him, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t be here talking to me about this and beating yourself up over it.”

“I told you. That ship sailed.” And you’re standing up for no apparent reason other than the fact that you’re suddenly restless, your stomach twisting in knots out of nowhere. “He’s not even here. He didn’t even show up tonight. I think that’s saying enough.”

Your friend rises to his feet too, probably because he thinks it’s weird to be the only one sitting now while you’re upset and pacing about. It’s not until Seungmin takes a step closer that you realize you’re shaking a little.

“Hey, you good?” He puts a hand on your shoulder. “I talked to Minho yesterday. He said he’d come. Maybe something came up or he just–”

Hyunjin’s voice interrupts Seungmin in the middle of his sentence, the excited squeal carrying itself from all the way inside the gallery to the back garden through the door left ajar. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, maybe there’s a reason why people say it. It’s laughable, really.

You and Seungmin both turn your attention to the brief commotion indoors, where you see Hyunjin smiling so big that his eyes have crinkled into crescent moons, where he’s standing with his arm thrown around Minho and shaking him by the shoulders.

These days, it’s easy to pretend that time is standing still. You don’t even know if time is even passing at all; you’re just looking at him, dressed in a black blazer and some dress pants. Casual but he looks good. He always does.

You watch as he says something to Hyunjin that seems to calm the latter down a bit, at least enough for Minho to quickly scan the room, searching. You watch as his eyes sweep through all the people gathered inside, not stopping until they land on you, finding you on the other side of the glass door. Even in this terrible lighting, not entirely visible you assume, he sees you.

There was a conversation you had with Minho some time ago, when you two were sprawled out on your couch munching on strawberry Peperos and not paying attention to the movie that was playing on your TV, when he asked how you wanted your life to be at 40.

You knew what the boring answer was – you wanted your life to be stable, and you told him as much. Isn’t stability always the goal? Maybe a lame corporate job if the whole starving-artist-who-makes-it-big-overnight dream didn’t pan out. A cat and a dog named Mochi and Mocha, if you could afford two pets at once. An apartment that you owned, with framed pictures of everything you loved scattered all over the place, and stupidly cute fairy lights that you often see on Pinterest, and an unfathomable amount of plushies that your inner child was never indulged in. A peaceful and quiet life, at least to some extent.

The honest answer, the one that you didn’t tell him, was you wanted to not live with regret.

But as you lock eyes with him, for a split second there, you know that you will.

About twenty years down the line, when you look back on your life and think of this chapter, you’ll think about a boy who loved you and whom you loved. How you broke both of your hearts trying to protect your own. You’ll wonder if he’s married, if he has kids, if he still reminisces about the girl he used to love when he was young. If he’s happy and if his dreams came true. If the sadness you caused yourself was worth it, if the pain meant anything at all. If you could go back in time and undo everything, would you?

You’ll get over it eventually – surely you will; heartbreak isn’t the end of the world – but you’ll live with the grief of what could’ve been if you weren’t afraid. You’ll be left to mourn the road not taken, your almost but never was.

You’re the one who moves first, when it starts to become a struggle just to breathe. You stumble away from Minho’s line of sight, until you find a wall that you can rest against.

Seungmin is quick to follow. “Hey, woah, are you okay?”

Your hands alternate between balling themselves into tight fists and attempting in vain to grab at the flat surface of the concrete. There are no words that you can form to answer him. Only your ragged breathing and your pathetic effort to take in some air through your mouth.

“Okay, shit, uhm,” Seungmin sputters. “Hang on.”

Then he’s taking off. You don’t know how long he’s gone for, where he’s gone off to, and frankly, you can’t really bring yourself to care. Your hands abandon the wall in favor of your dress, something that you can actually hold onto. Your trembling fingers clutch the hem of your dress like they’re pretending it’s a lifeline, bunching and twisting the fabric in your sweaty palms. Hoping it’ll help, but it doesn’t at all.

Even over the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears, you could hear new footsteps coming out into the empty garden. Rushed at first, then they stop for a brief moment. You know who it is before he even approaches you.

Damn that Kim Seungmin.

The familiar scent of his cologne greets you before his voice. You spent hours and hours enveloped in this scent until it was dulled by sweat from the activities you were engaged in, if it wasn’t already softened by the kisses you would leave all over his skin.

When he calls your name, it comes out so soft, like you never broke his heart in the first place and that night was only a figment of your twisted imagination. He sounds so gentle, yet it sends you further down the crippling spiral. You don’t deserve him; maybe you never did, despite what Seungmin tried to put through your head earlier.

“I’m fine.” But you know your appearance has already betrayed your words. The first thing you say to him in weeks, and it’s a lie. You’re still leaning against the wall with your arms wrapped tightly around your trembling frame and your eyes squeezed shut. It’s a pitiful sight. Even more so when it registers in your brain that it’s Minho of all people who’s witnessing it.

He doesn’t say anything else, only lets out a sigh, and then his hand is on your body, a warm palm touching the small of your back out of habit before he moves it upward to rub between your shoulder blades. “Can you breathe?”

His question makes you all too aware that there’s something gnawing inside of your chest, makes you think for a second there that you’re going to die though you know that you won’t. You shake your head with your eyes still closed, your breathing coming out more ragged by the second. You can’t even bear to look at him and absorb the worry in his eyes; you’re sure you’ll only cry if you do, and it’s the last thing you need right now.

But it turns out that seeing Minho’s face isn’t the only thing that can bring you to tears. When you feel him tug at your arms, his warmth on your bare skin, you start crying anyway and that makes it even harder to breathe. There’s not a single ounce of resistance in your body, your limbs obeying him easily when they untangle themselves around your waist to fall by your sides as he pulls you into his chest, with one hand over your sternum and his thumb rubbing back and forth. He’s careful about it too, like he’s handling broken pieces of something that used to be beautiful.

“You’re okay,” he says, but you’ve got your face pressed into the crook of his neck and your tears are staining the collar of his shirt. “You’re gonna be fine. Just… listen to me.”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to speak next.

“Name three things you can see,” he says. “You don’t have to say it out loud. Just think about it.”

You open your eyes finally, angling your head until most of your vision isn’t obstructed by the proximity of his body. Minho tightens his arm around you, and you blink away some of the tears.

Your black heels that your mom got you for your birthday a while ago.

The grass, darkened green and damp.

Him.

“Three things you can hear.”

Light chatter coming from inside the gallery.

Cars passing by on the adjacent street.

Him, the sound of his breathing.

“Three things you can touch.”

The soft material of your dress against your skin.

The bracelet, hugging your wrist, weighing you down like an anchor.

And… him.

Him, him, him.

You don’t know what reason Minho makes up to excuse you for the rest of night, but you don’t bother asking. There’s really no space left in your head to think about it twice, to care about leaving your friends or feel guilty about Hyunjin because he was so excited about today. It’s too much; all you want is to go home, get away from here.

Minho calls you both an Uber back to your place. During the entire ride, he doesn’t say a word and neither do you. And even though you mostly opt for looking out the window at the other cars and houses and people passing by, every now and then you could feel his eyes on you from the other side of the backseat.

When you arrive, he keeps a hand on the small of your back as you make your way up the stairs. When you unlock the door, you leave it open so he could follow you inside. You suppose that one is a force of habit. You’re not used to shutting the door in his face. At least, not in the literal sense anyway.

Then it returns, that gnawing feeling. A feeling far too colossal for your body to house. It sits somewhere inside your ribcage, sharp and desperate, with claws trying to dig its way out. And for the first time in maybe ever, you understand what it truly means to want something this badly. You love him, and it hurts. You love him even though it hurts.

Minho moves around the place while you remain frozen in the middle of your own apartment, as if he’s the one who lives here and you’re just visiting for the night. You let him take off your makeup (with a wipe; you’re going to hate yourself in the morning), let him help you change into clothes that you can sleep in, even let him tuck you into bed like you’re a helpless child. If he notices the bracelet on you, he doesn’t say anything. Everything is done in silence.

You don’t look him in the eye. You don’t think you can handle what you’ll find there.

But you do reach for his hand when he tries to leave now that there’s nothing left for him to do here. There’s not a single thought behind your action, just a need to have him near.

“Can you…?”

You aren’t brave enough to finish the question, your voice trailing off and the words dissipating like smoke after a lonely cigarette drag. You’re being selfish right now, you’re awfully aware of this.

Minho doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even let out a single sigh. For a second there, you think he’s about to leave you here, cold and alone, just like you had done to him. It would be nothing less than what you deserve.

But then he’s shrugging off his blazer and your heart is in your throat. When he slips into bed beside you, something hurts, the kind of ache that spreads all across your chest and makes your lungs burn.

Earlier tonight, he could’ve walked away and let you be somebody else’s burden. Your friends were all there, it’s not like they would’ve left you stranded.

You’re not really sure what to think. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t hate you, but maybe it’s just enough confirmation that he doesn’t hate you more than he loves you.

You break the deafening stretch of silence with a whisper, “I’m sorry.” You don’t know what the apology is for. Are you sorry for that night, for the things you said to him? Are you sorry that you’re only yourself, that he just had to go ahead and fall for you of all people? Sorry that you’re too much of a coward and a lost cause to love him right? You don’t know, but it feels appropriate to apologize. You owe him that much.

“Don’t…” Minho says after a while. “You don’t have to do that.”

The familiar sensation returns – the one that stings the back of your eyes, burns your nostrils and makes you all choked up. You try to hold your breath and will it away, but the first tear spills without your permission, and you can’t help the shaky inhale – close to a gasp and followed by a sniffle – that punctuates your lungs when they start protesting against the sudden lack of oxygen.

You grip the sheets so hard you think you could rip through the fabric and dig into your own palm. It’s a pathetic feeling, like a strange kind of embarrassment that you can’t quite describe. The room is deadly quiet; you know there’s no way he didn’t catch the noise.

You hear Minho shift from where he lays behind you, some rustling when he moves against the duvet and the mattress. “Don’t cry,” he sighs. And it’s still so gentle. You’ve never known him to be anything but gentle.

You bite the inside of your cheek, blinking some of the tears away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just… don’t cry.” It sounds like he’s holding something back but you aren’t sure. “Don’t cry. Go to sleep. We can talk in the morning, if you want.”

You sniffle some more, and maybe that makes Minho think he still needs to appease you even further. He reaches out finally, to brush a comforting hand against your arm. “Go to sleep. Promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You don’t know if you want to talk in the morning, because there’s nothing for you to say. All you really have is what he’s already heard – I’m sorry, like an utterly broken record. But you want him to stay even if it’s only for the morning. Even if all he’ll get is silence at best and choked up breaths at worst. Your last-ditch attempt at grasping straws, a futile effort to chase running water.

“Okay,” you tell him, and neither of you says anything afterward. The tears keep falling for a while, and at some point it tires you out enough to slip into a dreamless sleep.

When you open your eyes hours later, the sun is already up. The clock on your phone reads 7:06AM and the first thing you register is an uncomfortable dryness in your throat. Behind you, the bed is still warm. You can actually feel it underneath your fingertips when you reach out, the warmth dwindling from the side of the bed that’s been left vacant. Minho has never broken a promise to you before.

He’s gone, and you sink again.

247 notes · View notes

midnight-shadow-cafe · 2 months ago

Text

Ocean’s Embrace

Pairing: Poly 141 x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, suggestive jokes, mentions of alcohol, playful teasing, Johnny causing chaos, and Simon being hyper-aware of everything

Author’s Note: A cruise vacation with the boys? Pure heaven and absolute chaos at the same time.

Summary: A well-earned vacation leads to a week on a luxurious cruise, but with Task Force 141, things are never truly quiet. Between romantic moonlit walks, playful poolside antics, and protective instincts kicking in at the most unexpected moments, your time with John, Simon, Johnny, and Kyle is nothing short of unforgettable.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The ocean stretched endlessly around you, deep blue meeting the warm hues of the setting sun. A soft breeze carried the scent of salt and sunscreen as you stood on the deck, feeling the steady sway of the ship beneath you. For once, there were no missions, no life-or-death situations—just you and your boys, free to enjoy a well-earned vacation.

John was the one who had insisted on this trip. Or, rather, Laswell had insisted he take a break, and he had begrudgingly agreed on one condition: that you, Simon, Johnny, and Kyle came along. He thrived on the open sea, unbuttoned Hawaiian shirts and cigar in hand, looking like he had belonged here all his life.

“You’re stressin’,” he murmured, pulling you onto a lounge chair beside him. His arm curled around your waist, keeping you close as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “We’re not on duty, love. Time to relax.”

You sighed, melting into his warmth as Kyle placed a cold cocktail in your free hand. “Already got you covered,” Kyle said with a smirk, sinking into the seat next to you. “Gotta admit, this was a good idea.”

“Oh, now it’s a good idea,” John chuckled. “Could’ve sworn you lot were complainin’ about bein’ stuck on a boat for a week.”

“Except for me,” Johnny said, plopping down at your feet with a grin. “I love this! Open water, endless drinks, poolside fun—”

“Absolute chaos,” Simon muttered from his usual spot in the shade, sunglasses low on his nose as he observed everything around him. You reached out, and he took your hand without hesitation, fingers threading through yours.

“We’re here to relax,” you reminded him gently. “Nothing’s gonna happen.”

He hummed, unconvinced but unwilling to argue, especially when you leaned over and kissed his knuckles. His grip on you tightened just slightly.

Later that evening, Johnny managed to drag you all to the casino, where he promptly entered an arm-wrestling match with a man twice his size. Kyle was laughing so hard he could barely breathe, while John just shook his head.

“He’s gonna lose,” Kyle snickered.

“Not if I bait him,” Simon muttered, then called out casually, “Bet you can’t do it, MacTavish.”

That was all it took. Johnny won—barely—and spent the next hour celebrating like he had conquered the world. The free drinks that followed? Absolutely worth it.

The most peaceful moments came with Kyle. He was the one who found the best lounging spots, the quiet corners of the ship where the two of you could steal moments alone. One night, you both snuck up to the top deck, where the stars stretched endlessly above you.

“This is nice,” Kyle murmured, pulling you close. “Just us. No orders. No pressure.”

“Just you, me, and a whole lotta water,” you teased, nuzzling against him. “Kinda romantic, don’t you think?”

He chuckled, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. “Yeah… it really is.”

John made sure you were taken care of, always keeping an eye on you even when you insisted you were fine. He was protective, doting, making sure you were comfortable at all times.

Simon, ever the watchful shadow, kept a quiet but firm presence at your side. He rarely let go of your hand, brushing his fingers over your knuckles, reassuring himself that you were safe.

Kyle was your partner in crime, sneaking off with you to explore, whispering jokes that made you giggle until Johnny caught on and demanded to be included.

And Johnny? He made sure you were never bored, dragging you into adventures, twirling you around during karaoke, and making sure that by the end of the trip, you had laughed more than you had in months.

The last night, all four of them surrounded you on the deck, the soft sound of the waves filling the silence between you. John sat beside you, arm wrapped around your shoulders. Kyle leaned against your legs, tracing patterns into your skin. Johnny had his head in your lap, half-asleep from the sun and drinks, while Simon stood close enough that his fingers brushed against yours.

“Best vacation ever?” Kyle asked, his voice low and warm.

You squeezed their hands, heart full. “With you guys? Always.”

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

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inklore · 10 months ago

Text

if it's one thing your girl is great at it's making a million different google docs full of lists full of resources, ideas, etc that will help future me when it comes to posting fics.

fic titles are literally one of the biggest lists i have and not even in a perfect world where i write ten fics a day would i ever be able to use all of these, and i don't like to see things go to waste, and i know there's people out there that struggle with titles as much as i do. so i hope this list comes in handy for someone!

i don't think i need to say this but just in case: no one owns fic titles, anyone can use these, a dozen people or one or none. these are literally just words and letters. no one owns them. sharing is caring, enjoy lovies!

★ — ONE WORD.

overboard

runaway

repercussions

sledgehammer

stargazing

symmetry

deathless

honey

retrograde

stitches

gravity

helpline

hollow

suffer

pushing

warrant

want

wonder

emotions

nonchalant

lavender

daydream

nosebleed

jigsaw

static

float

limbs

hologram

careless

lush

rotting

phonograph

hypnotic

splinters

magnetic

wasted

lithium

dealer

she

candles

sabotage

secrets

better

crescendo

deny

phenomenon

nights

guilty

move

criminal

blue

rise

thirsty

strangers

clockwork

closer

hectic

change

somebody

misery

sour

lowkey

peaches

she

nervous

sympathy

scars

disappear

melody

gemini

cruel

persona

supernatural

nectar

obsessed

casual

tryant

dare

honestly

yummy

out

paradise

nuts

groin

heaven

lost

stardust

tangerine

monolith

lunch

pov

perfume

dealer

tough

arson

★ — TWO WORDS.

hush hush

night away

heart stop

stone heart

waiting for

black rose

sad kids

spine breaker

look here

autumn leaves

for you

spring day

love maze

bad decisions

take two

wild flower

blue side

rainy days

face off

slow dancing

polar night

like crazy

club heaven

deeper water

romantic devil

hold me

angel eyes

picture you

after midnight

twilight zone

drain me

sorry sorry

pretty please

how sweet

bubble gum

empty box

love therapy

play me

red velvet

cherry bullet

midnight guest

cherry wish

code words

ghost walk

bad intentions

atlas hands

broken crown

crystallized words

filthy pride

fresh eyes

heavy feet

hungry ghosts

imaginary paintings

neon jungle

perfect storm

slow hands

stop signs

sad farewells

untranslated stars

after hours

bad liar

bonfire heart

bruised lips

cherry bomb

damaged goods

dead end

fire away

gunpowder hourglass

lonely together

lost language

old moons

one dance

paper knees

sleepy eyes

stolen dance

vice city

artificial heart

cry baby

daylight fading

dream awake

empty bottle

exit wounds

ghost orchards

moving stones

paper walls

oceans away

playing fiction

something wild

wild thoughts

everybody’s fool

eyes closed

storms incarnate

writing tragedies

stereo driver

soul searching

party’s over

backseat driving

fearful heart

backwards directions

nosebleed seats

high hopes

lovers rock

wet dream

selfish soul

washed away

rose rogue

midnight sun

teenage fantasy

wandering romance

sure thing

wildest dreams

rock candy

losing momentum

ruin you

heart holiday

sink her

cut splinters

hot mess

frozen devotion

little star

blind faith

favorite crime

romantic homicide

those eyes

play pretend

plot line

pretty poison

intimidate you

pretty face

strawberry kisses

lovers rock

worlds apart

desperate/separate ways

those eyes

the blonde

loving machine

spill blood

someone’s someone

★ — THREE WORDS.

got my number

happy without me

not over you

crazy for you

back to you

flame of love

just one day

let me know

hold me tight

make it right

closer than this

love me again

still with you

out of love

never let go

love in space

ready to bleed

bleed for love

between the bars

can’t be still

cold morning mist

in cold blood

matter of time

piece by piece

ship to wreck

taut with love

waste a moment

can’t see straight

down and out

in a blackout

just like fire

notes on tenderness

across the room

fire with fire

going half-mad

loving to ruins

rust to gold

send my love

talking in code

cradling a dream

cut to black

dear to me

run me dry

dancing with demons

kiss and tell

if you care

the cry out

steal this night

just for now

heart on fire

hold my head

nobody but you

simple and plain

a familiar sound

fool for you

drown your memory

falling into you

just like heaven

warm like beaches

love that stings

rotting in places

moves on you

save your tears

a single tear

light my cigarette

long nights, daydreams

boys like you

love me forever

hands on me

like a phonograph

taking over me

dug so deep

touch the ground

heart shaped box

where’s my love

tears of gold

lover of mine

love me wrong

kiss or kill

exes and why’s

love is easy

stupid in love

easy to love

lost with you

glimpse of us

keep you safe

death with dignity

just like heaven

heart of glass

baby i’m yours

pull my strings

★ — FOUR+ WORDS.

love me a little

happy without me

you can't hold my heart

wishing on a star

give it to me

around the world in a day

waste it on me

this mess is yours

feeling like i do

on a war path

blood on the surface

corner of the sky

do the divine love

drinking the corinthian sun

everything is laced in (add word)

lost in the moment

in the nick of time

mouth like a pomegranate

the bones you’re made of

when the mania speaks

all desire & no thought

blue in the face

collapsing and relapsing

middle of the night

sail to the sun

lay down your arms

falling into the sky

take me where your heart is

she’s like the bad weather

kill for your love

the cigarette and the smoker

the match and the fuse

saint, i’m a sinner

when the sky comes falling

pretty little hand in mine

even when the sun don’t shine

staring at the sun / sunset

tangled up with you all night

paper airplanes flying

maybe i’m a fool

tastes like rock candy

blood in a lemon

(a) heart ready to die

fate is losing its patience

at least we feel alive

death for your secrets

someone’s gonna ruin you

dancing in a crowded room

smell you on my clothes

always taste like you

leave me wanting more

hunger for (insert here)

swim before you drown

put your hands on me

drink my (these) tears and cry

i’d sleep all day just to dream of you

so high we never stood a chance

i’d break down anytime for you

maybe i’m wrong, or maybe it’s true

i only breathe so that i breathe with you

a worn out cassette

lips on my cold neck

talking in my sleep

make me feel like someone else

locked inside your heart

hooked on her flesh

it’s bloody and raw

the angel of small death

just a couple sinners

smiles cover your heart

charmer and the snake

stuck on your thumb

if i killed someone for you

dancing with your ghost

i miss you, i’m sorry

woman of the hour

shut up and look pretty

queen of the night

devil in a dress

the thought of you

to be your lover

falling over you

just like a movie

love on the line

#also no one has to give me credit like pls steal these and use them lol #fic titles #fic help #fic resources #story help #fic reference #tips and tricks #story titles #titles #if there’s double words or titles on here ignore that i’m too lazy to read through everything lol

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goingsunnythousandmerry · 4 months ago

Note

Helloo! Can I request some sub!monster trio smut pls? (Also, congrats on 100 followers!! <3)

Sub! Monster Trio x Reader - Zoro, Sanji, Luffy

Hey! Sorry it took me so long to get this written, but here you are. Enjoy! Request, comment, critique below! Let me know your thoughts if you wish. If you request I am unsure how long it will take me, but I am willing to try. I am also willing to expand to writing about JJK and AOT. Thank you for reading! Thank you for following!

I hope everyone has a great 2025!

Summary: Sub Monster trio smut- trying new things with Zoro, a typical tuesday with Sanji and he loves to serve, Luffy is needy and needs taught how to slow down.

Monster trio in this is post-time skip.

Warnings: MDNI, choking, face sitting, tying up, teasing, brat behavior, riding, pet names, fingering, praise, sub and dom behavior (using for pleasure), begging, i don't own these characters

Zoro:

Zoro was always in charge, and you loved it. Your boyfriend was never one to hesitate—blunt about his needs and wants, taking what he desired without question. But deep down, you longed to see him melt, to watch him lose control for once. You tried to make him beg, to push him to the edge and force him to wait. That thought lingered in your mind as the ship docked at a bustling port with an expansive marketplace. So you decide to find some rope…

That evening, the crew gathered for dinner. The table, as always, was a riot of chaos and laughter. You sat next to Zoro, his hand resting firmly on your thigh beneath the table, possessive but subtle enough that no one noticed. Luffy and Usopp were cracking jokes, their antics drawing loud, tearful laughter from Chopper. Brook sipped his tea, chuckling in his usual elegant manner, while Robin watched the chaos with her serene, knowing smile. Sanji flitted about, serving dessert plates to Nami, Robin, and you with his usual flair.

“Thanks, Sanji!” Nami said with a flutter of her lashes, her tone sweet enough to send the cook spinning into heart-eyed bliss.

Luffy lunged across the table to swipe someone’s dessert, only to be dragged back by Sanji and Franky, the latter shaking his head with a bemused grin. Jimbei sat quietly, sake cup in hand, his deep chuckle rumbling like distant thunder as he observed the scene.

Amid the familiar chaos, you leaned closer to Zoro, your lips just brushing the shell of his ear.

Zoro stilled momentarily, his grip on your thigh tightening just slightly. Then he exhaled slowly, lifting his sake cup to his lips to down the remainder in a single swig. He turned slightly, just enough for his dark eyes to meet yours. His expression was unreadable, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips and the sharp glint in his eye spoke volumes.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost casual, but heavy with intrigue.

You pulled back just enough to hold his gaze, a playful smile curving your lips.

“Patience,” you said, voice soft but full of promise.

Zoro stood up and excused himself, taking his dishes to the sink. Before exiting the room, he glanced over his shoulder, his dark eyes locking on yours for a brief moment. A small tilt of his head was all it took—a silent invitation meant just for you. The lively chaos of the crew around you served as the perfect distraction, ensuring no one noticed the exchange.

The crew had their suspicions about you and Zoro, but neither of you had ever confirmed anything outright. There were the occasional… sounds—questionable noises that went unexplained, or poorly explained when someone asked. But no one pried, respecting the unspoken boundaries. Even so, you and Zoro preferred to keep things discreet.

You let a few minutes pass, discussing hopes for future adventures with your crewmates and laughing at Luffy’s usual antics. The camaraderie felt light and warm, but your attention was elsewhere, anticipation simmering across your skin. Eventually, you stood and stretched, stifling a yawn.

“I’m exhausted,” you said, offering a sheepish smile. “Think I’ll turn in early.”

As always, Sanji was quick to intervene when you reached for your plate.

“Absolutely not! A lady never clears her own dishes,” he declared, whisking it away before you could protest.

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “Thanks, Sanji. Goodnight, everyone!” You say with a wave.

With that, you left the others to their meal and slipped away, the faint hum of laughter and clinking dishes fading as you headed down the hallway. You didn’t rush, your steps unhurried but deliberate, the promise of what awaited you adding a sway to your stride. By the time you reached your quarters, your heart was beating just a little faster.

Zoro was waiting.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, before opening the door. Zoro stood by your bed, casually caressing the rope you'd bought that day in his hand.

“Well, Princess,” he said, a teasing edge to his voice, “care to explain what this is for?”

You swallowed hard, your cheeks warming. “That’s... what I wanted to talk to you about,” you began, hesitating. You took a shaky breath then spoke, “Zoro, can I tie you up? I want to be in charge for once.”

A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he looked from the rope to you, his sharp eyes glinting with curiosity. He exhaled slowly, considering your words. Zoro wasn’t the kind of man who easily surrendered control. He knew what he wanted, and he took it without hesitation.

But for you? Just this once, he was willing to try.

“Fine,” he said, at last, raising an eyebrow. “Just this once. But…” His smirk widened as he tossed the rope onto the bed beside him. “You’re going to have to make me.”

The challenge in his tone sent a spark of determination through you. Standing tall, you square your shoulders and step toward him. With a firm push, you guided him backward onto the bed.

He laughed, the sound low and warm, and nodded in mock surrender. “Alright, alright,” he murmured, his hands coming to rest on your waist as he pulled you on top of him.

You reached for his wrists, trying to pin them to his sides, but he resisted.

“I never said I’d make it easy,” he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

“Zoro,” you said with a shake of your head, meeting his gaze.

His grin only widened as his hands tightened slightly on your waist, his eyes never leaving yours. Slowly, you leaned in, brushing your lips against his. The kiss started soft and teasing, your fingers threading into his hair. As you shifted your legs, straddling him, his lips pressed harder against yours, his hunger evident.

He was trying to take control again, his hands already sliding up your waist.

Not this time.

Your hand reached out, grabbing the rope from where he’d dropped it. You broke the kiss, pushing him firmly back against the bed.

“No, Zoro,” you said, your voice steady and commanding. “I’m in charge today. I’m tying you up for good measure. Now be a good swordsman and let me.”

His eyes flicked to yours, narrowing slightly in defiance, but there was a flicker of intrigue behind them.

“You’re going to learn patience for once,” you added, holding his gaze. “And if you’re good, you’ll be rewarded.”

You reached for the hem of his shirt, your fingers brushing against his skin as you pulled it up over his head. He chuckled softly, his amusement evident, as if entertained by your bold attempts at authority.

Next, your hands moved to the waistband of his pants, but before you could act, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist firmly. In one swift motion, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke.

“Princess, princess, princess…” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “You’re driving me crazy.”

A shiver ran down your spine, but you refused to back down. Turning your head to meet his gaze, your lips hovered close to his, and your eyes locked.

“Good,” you whispered.

His lips curved into a smirk. “Let’s just cut to the chase,” he said, his tone dripping with impatience as he pulled you into his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Let me take care of you.”

You rolled your eyes, refusing to fall into his rhythm. With a firm push, you shoved him back against the bed, your hands pinning his arms at his sides.

“No,” you said, your voice steady and filled with determination.

He raised an eyebrow at you, but a flicker of approval glimmered in his dark eyes.

Before he could resist, you grabbed his wrists and secured them to the bedframe with the rope. He fought back slightly, his muscles tensing as you worked, his jaw tightening when the ropes cinched snugly around his wrists.

His gaze never left you. Those intense, lust-filled eyes burned into yours, his breathing growing shakier with each passing second.

You smiled, a mixture of triumph and anticipation, before shifting to the foot of the bed. His eyes followed your every move as you bent down and undid the zipper of his pants, slowly pulling them and his boxers down his legs. You tossed them to the side of the bed. Gripping his ankle one at a time tied his legs to the bed, securing him completely. His arousal grows from watching you.

Zoro sat up as much as the restraints allowed, straining for a better view of you.

“Still fighting me, huh?” you teased, crawling up the bed to straddle him as you ran your fingers lightly down his chest.

His lips curled into a smirk, but he said nothing, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

He jerked forward against the restraints, the ropes straining as his muscles flexed. The urge to pull you close burned in his chest, frustration etched in every line of his face. His teeth ground together, and his ragged breaths only added to his irritation, the lack of control gnawing at him.

You tilted your head, studying him with a playful glint in your eye. “What’s wrong, baby? Do you need something?” you teased, your voice dripping with mock sympathy as you bit down on your lip, savoring the sight of him.

“What’s wrong baby..? Do you need something?” You say teasing, biting down on your lip as you take in the sight of him.

His dark eyes narrowed, the heat in them growing as he leaned back against the headboard, forcing himself to breathe deeply. Slowly, a small grin spread across his lips, defiance and desire mingling in his expression.

“What now, Princess?” he asked, his voice rough but taunting, the nickname laced with challenge.

You smirked in response, crawling up the bed with deliberate slowness, closing the distance between you. Leaning in, you brought your lips to his ear.

The warm sensation of your breath sent shivers rippling through his body, his chest rising sharply as he instinctively leaned into you, only to be reminded by the ropes that he couldn’t move.

“Patience,” you whispered, your tone soft but commanding, the word lingering in the air like a promise.

“Now, I play,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his jaw as they trailed softly down his neck.

A shiver ran through his body, his squirming beneath you igniting a spark that spread like fire to your core. You let out a low, pleased moan as a deep growl rumbled from between his clenched teeth. Your tongue flicked over his neck, stopping at his collarbone, where your teeth sank into his skin just enough to make him gasp. A shaky groan slipped from Zoro’s lips. You then soothed the bite with gentle kisses, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

His body was tense, desire burning in the dark depths of his gaze. Slowly, you tilted your chin up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, lingering just long enough to leave him wanting. When you pulled back, your eyes danced between his lips and his lust-filled eyes.

“Zoro…” you murmur, your voice low and teasing. “What do you want? What do you need?”

He swallowed hard, his breath shaky as it escaped his chest. “You… I need you,” he whispered, the words raw and unsteady.

“And how do you want me..? You’ve been patient so far… I may be willing to reward you if you continue.” I say, raising my eyebrows at him.

Your eyes stay locked on his, even as your lips begin their descent, trailing soft, deliberate kisses down his chest to his abdomen. The closer you move to his length the more his groans fill the air, rough and unrestrained. His hips buck with need. His arms strain against the ropes binding him, muscles flexing in frustration, forcing you to pause.

“Zoro, patience,” you purr.

His body stiffened, and a shudder ran through him as he exhaled shakily. You can feel the tension radiating from him. His length aching to be touched.

Your eyes trace the expanse of his long, toned torso, down to his hardened length, before meeting his gaze again. Slowly, you licked your lips and shifted your body to settle between his legs.

Zoro’s breath catches in his chest, his eyes fixed on you. No matter how many times he’d seen you like this, it never failed to ignite something primal within him. His legs tense, and his bound arms tug at the restraints, his body struggling to remain still, to remain unable to take you the way he wanted to. The raw hunger in his expression sends a thrill through you, and a knowing smile curls at your lips.

You firmly place a hand on his base causing Zoro to growl. He swallowed hard, his body quivering beneath your touch. You lowered a second hand on his length, your hands barely wrapping around him completely. Licking your lips again, you inched your mouth towards letting your breath hit his tip. His toes curled, sending an electric sensation up his body. He pulled against his restraints more desperate for your touch.

“Y/N, please.” He begged.

You smile, “Beg more Zo.” You requested.

He swallowed hard, his voice soft and needy, “Please, Y/N. Need to feel your… mouth on me.”

With that, you lick his tip, one stroke. His breathing became rapid, weak groans escaping him. You breathe out on him again, lowering your head to his base. You stick out your tongue and trace up and down his length. After several swipes, you stop once more at his tip where you slide him between your soft pink lips. A weak ragged breath escapes him as you take him further in his mouth.

“Y/N.” He moans, his hands fighting his restraints wanting to put a hand on the back of your head to control your depth and speed.

You smirk against him, taking him into the back of your mouth. In response, he lets out a loud uncontrolled growl. Your hands settle on his legs and you start moving your lips up and down against him, shifting between deep and shallow strokes. The noises from your lips cause him to fight his restraints more. His hips buck up into your face.

You let out a soft chuckle and remove your lips from him. He gasps at the cool air hitting him. You wipe your mouth and shift your hands to his hips, pushing him down against the bed. He growls in response.

You lower your mouth back to him, swirling your tongue on his tip. You gently slide him across your tongue taking him into your mouth once again. After adjusting, your head bounces up and down between his legs, holding his length between your lips. His feet kicked at the bed frame, his head digging into the headboard.

“Y/N. I’m going to…” he starts to speak but a groan cuts him off.

You smiled against him, taking him as deep in your throat as you could. The tight sensation drove him wild. With a growl, he moaned and finished shooting down your throat. His body trembled under your touch and you slowly pulled him out from your lips.

“Great job, Zo.” You said before licking the mess that dripped down his length. When you were done you showed him your tongue to show you’d taken all of him. His chest heaves, his breath slowing.

“Y/N. That was…” he started, a smirk growing on his face, but you cut him off.

“Oh Zoro, we’re not done yet.” You said with a mischievous grin.

Sanji

Sanji was in the kitchen, preparing ingredients for tomorrow's meals. The thing about Sanji was that you could always count on him to take care of your needs. He was like your personal toy or a loyal puppy: obedient, eager, and willing to do whatever you asked, whether it be sit, stay, or lie down.

When you entered the kitchen, the soft sound of the door caught his attention. He was chopping vegetables, a lit cigarette perched between his lips as he worked. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, which he wiped away with a cloth draped over his shoulder. At the sound of your arrival, he glanced up, raising one of his signature curly eyebrows.

“Oh, Y/N,” he greeted, a warm smile gracing his lips. “You hungry? Need anything?” His eyes roamed down your figure briefly before returning to the task at hand.

It wasn’t the first time you’d wandered into the kitchen late at night while he worked. You both knew the routine and he loved it.

“You almost done?” you asked casually, leaning against the wooden counter beside him, your eyes waiting patiently for him to meet yours.

Sanji paused, the rhythmic chop of the knife halting as he turned to you. A smile crept across his face. “I’ll take it, you need something?” His voice was soft, teasing, as his gaze drifted lower down your body.

“Yeah, I do…” you said, letting your voice lower with a hint of need. “Think you can help me?”

He didn’t hesitate. Sanji set the knife down and dropped the towel onto the counter. “I’d do anything for you, Y/N,” he said, stepping closer, his hand resting lightly on your waist.

“Yeah?” you murmured, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “Then prove it.” You said, grabbing the lit cigarette from his lips and patting it out in the ashtray beside you.

Your hand lifted again and grabbed the black tie he wore, pulling him close, so close that your lips were just a breath apart. His eyes widened slightly, filled with intrigue and want, as he held your lust-filled gaze.

You brought your lips less than an inch to his, breathing against his face. Your needy eyes staring into his eyes then glancing down at his aching lips.

But before your lips could touch, you smiled mischievously and let go of his tie, stepping back and slipping from his grasp.

“Follow me,” you said with a smirk, your voice dripping with challenge as you turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, stunned but more than willing to follow.

Sanji’s heart raced. He trailed closely behind you, admiring the sway of your hips as you walked. He sped up, matching your pace, and brushed a hand against the small of your back. The ship was silent, the rest of the crew deep in slumber, while the two of you ascended to the crow’s nest. You climbed ahead of him, your skirt swaying with each ladder rung you climbed, the breeze catching it and raising it slightly. Sanji’s eyes couldn’t help but linger, catching a tantalizing glimpse beneath at the lack of panties you were wearing. The sight made his breath hitch and his nose bleed. He knew exactly where this night was headed.

Once inside the crow’s nest, Sanji wasted no time. His hands found your waist as he leaned in, his lips seeking yours. But you stopped him, eyes meeting his. You pressed your palm lightly against his chest.

“Lie down,” you commanded.

Sanji’s lips curled into a soft, mischievous smile. “As you wish, my love,” he murmured, moving to the couch and reclining with ease, his gaze never leaving you.

His chest rose and fell with anticipation as you approached, every step deliberate, your movements laced with intent. When you reached him, you climbed onto the couch,spreading your legs to straddle him. With the release of an exhale you pressed your hands against his chest and pinned him down.

“Use me however you need, Y/N.” He said, his voice a bit raspy at the desperation building within him. His eyes traced your shape sitting against him, his breath hitching in his chest.

You lifted a hand to his cheek, caressing it gently. “Oh Sanji dear, I will.” You said with a wink.

A shiver ran down Sanji’s spine. The silence around him was deafening, broken only by the thunderous rhythm of his heartbeat echoing in his ears. You shifted, lifting yourself from where you had been straddling his abdomen, your movements slow and deliberate, leaving him breathless beneath you. You move to hover your hips over his face. His eyes admire your naked folds beneath your skirt, his tongue flicking across his lips, as desire ached throughout him.

With an inhale, he breathed your scent in deeply. His breathing turned rapid. His arms lifted to your legs, his hands squeezing your hips. The fabric of your skirt scrunched beneath his grasp. Your body trembled under his touch, a wave of need coursing through you. Without hesitation, you lowered yourself onto his face.

The feeling of his warm breath between your fold causes you to moan and spread your legs wider. His lips pepper your folds with kisses, his hips bucking at your moan. The grasp on your hips and legs grew tighter. Electricity danced across your skin when his tongue began to trace shapes on your sensitivity. The loud needy moan escaping your damn lips led Sanji to pull you closer.

“Good boy, Sanji. You’re treating me so good, Baby.” You said before moaning again.

Your hips roll back and forth against his tongue. Shaky breaths escape you. Your hands wander from the arm of the couch to his hair. Your fingers curled deep within his blonde waves while his tongue dipped to dance within you.

Your skirt shifts, his hand letting go of your hip to slip under its fabric. His fingers slid up your folds until they met your sensitive bud, his thumb circling it with fervor.

“Sanji.” You moaned, your hips thrusting while you rode his face. The tickling of his goatee drove you wild.

Every moan that came from your lips sent Sanji deeper into a frenzy. The strong grip of his hand encouraged you to lean back. His tongue worked deeper within your walls, seeking out your sensitivity. Once he found it, he lapped with delight, his thumb and tongue moving faster with varying pressures.

“Sanji!” You said. “I’m going to..!”

Sanji gripped your body tighter against his face. His tongue moved up and down within you, hitting your special spot repeatedly while his thumb spiraled harder on your sensitivity. The warmth in your abdomen grew. Your hips bucked and your body trembled.

“SANJIII.” You moaned, your ecstasy overwhelming you.

Like a firework, you burst, your juices dripping down onto Sanji’s face.

He lapped up every drop, planting gentle kisses between your legs when he was done. You softly moaned and quivered against him, still feeling sensitive.

“Need more baby, please! I could eat you all night. Please may I?” He begged

You laugh, your body shivered as he kissed between your folds on your now overly sensitive spot.

“Sanjiii.” You weakly moaned. A breath escapes your lip and you release your hands from his hair. Scooting back off his face onto his abdomen you look down into his eyes. A soft smile grazes your cheeks.

“You’re so good to me Sanji… Letting me use you like that.”

“Use me anytime. Please. I’d do anything for you. Whatever you need, I’m yours.”

You smirk a warm feeling growing within you, but a dark need began to build in your core.

“If you insist. You’re like a loyal puppy—always coming back for more, always doing as you’re told,” you teased, your fingers lightly tracing the sharp line of his jaw. A mischievous smile played on your lips. “Bark for me, Sanji.”

His eyes gleamed with a mix of humor and desire, and without hesitation, he let out a loud, “Woof.”

You chuckled softly, leaning forward to press your lips against his. Your tongue slipped between his parted lips, tasting the faint bitterness of cigarettes mixed with red wine and the essence of yourself lingering on him. The blend made you smile wider as he pulled you closer, his hands gripping you firmly.

When he finally broke the kiss, his voice was low, almost pleading. “Please, let me taste you more,” he whispers, his gaze burning with need.

You nod, brushing your lips against his in a softer kiss before shifting to settle yourself above his face once more, surrendering to his request.

Luffy

Luffy needed three things, meat, adventure, and you. That day he’d been messing around with Chopper and Usop like normal until you decided to sunbathe on deck. You exited the cabin interior, wearing only a red string biking. His eyes fell on you, his heart beginning to thud in his chest. His whole body grew warm and in an instant, his arm stretched across the deck finding your waist. He flung himself next to you and pulled you close.

“Y/N.” Luffy said.

“Yes Luffy..?” You ask with an innocent hum.

His fingers gently traced up your waist to your sides, rubbing across your abdomen. Your hair shifted and you felt his breath hit your neck sending a cold shiver down your spine. He moved closer behind you, his pelvis shifting to dig into your back. A pink hue grew on your cheeks as you felt his need.

“I need you.” He muttered.

“Luffy I just got changed…” You replied, looking over your shoulder for your eyes to meet his.

“I need you, Y/N,” he said. He pulled you deeper into his embrace, his hips grinding into your back.

“Luffy… the crew.” You stutter out.

Luffy nips at your neck catching your skin between his teeth. His hands trail with more fervor across your body. His breathing grew rapid, his eyes growing darker with desire.

“Please, Y/N.”He begged.

You hesitate, scanning the deck amazed your crewmates were not watching the scene their captain was putting on. “Fine. My quarters. Now.” You said.

He gripped your waist tightly, his hold possessive yet careful, and dashed toward your living quarters, keeping you pressed firmly against his side. In one fluid motion, he threw open the door and pulled you inside, the wood slamming shut behind you with a resounding thud.

The small room was simple, its wooden walls bathed in the soft glow of evening light. The only furnishings were a bed draped with a deep purple bedspread and a plain white nightstand beside it. But neither of you spared a glance at the surroundings.

His lips crashed against yours, urgent and fervent, his hands tracing the bare skin of your back with a rough tenderness. The lingering warmth of the sun seemed to cling to his lips, blending with the faint taste of meat from dinner, an unexpected detail that only heightened the rawness of the moment.

His hold on you collapsed harder as he pulled you closer, his body pressing into yours with an intensity that sent heat coursing through you. His hips moved instinctively, a needy rhythm that made your breath catch.

Your heart raced, a fire igniting within you, both thrilling and commanding. You loved Luffy, but his impulsiveness always came first, often overshadowing your own needs. He needed to remember who was in control.

You pulled back from his strong embrace, placing your hands firmly on his chest to push him away. But his arms only tightened around you, a desperate strength in his hold.

“Luffy!” you said sharply, your tone laced with authority as you huffed in frustration.

He stopped, his rapid breathing mingling with yours as his wide, earnest eyes locked onto yours, searching for permission that wasn’t coming.

“Y/N… please,” he murmured, his voice raw and pleading. He leaned in, his lips aiming for the sensitive curve of your neck, but you pressed your hands against him again, stopping him short.

“Luffy, sit down,” you ordered, your voice firm and unwavering. “We’ve been through this. You’re rushing again.”

His lips parted in a groan, frustration flashing across his face. His hands lingered on your sides, gripping tightly for a moment before finally letting go. With a heavy sigh, he stomped to the bed and dropped onto its edge, sulking but compliant.

“Good,” you said firmly, your voice low and commanding. “Now, breathe.”

He drew in a deep, shaky breath, his chest rising as his gaze fixed on you. His eyes, dark and filled with unrelenting desire, refused to soften even as he exhaled. The hunger in his stare was magnetic, pulling you in, his need almost tangible in the charged air between you.

“Please…” he whispered, the word breaking from his lips like a prayer.

You stepped closer, letting the moment stretch before slowly lowering yourself onto his lap. The instant your hips pressed against him, his body reacted instinctively, his hips jerking upward, desperate for more.

A frustrated hiss escaped through your clenched teeth, and your hand shot up to his throat, your fingers pressing firmly into his skin. His breath hitched, his body stilling under your touch.

“Slow down,” you commanded, your tone sharp, allowing for no argument.

Luffy’s eyes widened, his hand instinctively reaching up to yours on his throat. The tension between you simmered, his shallow breaths mingling with yours. The sensation of your grip, firm and unyielding, left him trembling. The lack of air, coupled with your dominance, had a calming yet electrifying effect on him. A gasp slipped from his lips as you tightened your hold, and when you finally released him, he panted hard.

A smirk crept across his face.

You smiled back, watching him catch his breath. His hand returned to your waist, squeezing gently. The softness of his touch sent a wave of warmth through you, and you leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips.

His shoulders relaxed beneath your touch, his body unwinding as your arms wrapped around his neck. You paused, inhaling deeply, savoring the moment before pulling him closer for a deeper kiss. His body quivered slightly beneath you, a telltale sign of the effect you had on him.

Your grip on him tightened as his tongue brushed against yours, the kiss deepening with each passing second. But just as he began to lose himself, you broke the kiss, letting your lips trail softly down to his neck.

“Please, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice tinged with need.

While your lips lingered at the base of his neck, your hand moved to your side, deftly untying the strings of your bikini bottoms. With one last lingering kiss on his clavicle, you pulled back, locking eyes with him.

His jaw clenched as he took in your gaze—loving yet commanding—and the rise and fall of his chest grew uneven. Your fingertips trailed down his arm, delicate yet deliberate, until they reached his wrist. As you curled your fingers around it, his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

You gave him a small, knowing nod and guided his hand between your legs, the anticipation hanging thick in the air.

“You have to warm me up first.. remember?”

Luffy nodded.”Right.”

His fingers traced between your slick wet folds. A hard swallow bobbed down his throat. He let out another weak breath. His eyes remained locked on yours, his hips bucking every once in a while, his need still trying to overwhelm him. Every time his hips bucked you tightly squeezed his shoulders, your hand drifting closer to his neck, reminding him to slow down.

His fingers circled on your sensitivity. He gripped your hips pulling you closer to him. You moaned as he rubbed you, your head dropping to rest on his shoulder. Your breathing then began to match his. A smile spread on your face, your hips squirming at the sensation between your legs.

After a few more minutes of playing with you, Luffy’s eyes darkened. He lifted his other hand to untie your bikini top. His lips met your bare skin peppering your neck and chest with kisses. You moaned at the sensation of his lips on your skin, your teething digging deep into your body lip while his left hand continued to work between your legs.

His head tilted, finding your sensitive nipples. He lapped them up between his lips and bit down.

“Luffy….” You moaned.

“Please Y/N.” He begged, His grip tightening on your hip.

He swallowed, his body tensing, but he couldn’t help his hips bucking upward again.

“Okay, Luffy.” You replied, your hands dropping from his neck and shoulders to his chest.

His eyes lit up a wide green spreading across his face. He eagerly lifted you from his hips and pulled down his shorts and boxers. His length was long and hard. With one hand he pulled you towards him, using his other to stroke your wet folds with his length. His breath caught in his chest when you reached for him. He let go, allowing you to take over. His hands settled back on your waist and pulled you close.

You slowly guided him to your entrance and eased him into you. Your moan bounced across the walls of the room as he stretched you, pushing himself deeper. You clawed at his back. Your walls clenched around him.

Luffy began to pull back, but you dug your nails into his back and chest.

“Let me adjust.” You replied breathily.

He nodded. His eyes locked on your form in front of him. His hands gripped your hips for dear life waiting for you to tell him he could move.

You let out a slow deep breath.

“Okay, but start slow, okay?” You said.

Luffy eagerly nodded, pulling out of you. He pressed his lips to yours and thrusts back in, his pace slow. With each push he moved deeper, using his devil fruit to help him stretch himself to feel more of you.

“Luffy.” You moaned.

“You feel so good.” He groaned. “Need…”

His hips rutted faster and your hand jerked to his throat squeezing him tight. He gasped and stopped thrusting.

While your hand remained on his throat, you rode him. You set the pace, rolling your hips to feel more of him. You let out another moan before releasing your tight grasp on his throat.

The rise and fall of his chest was shallow as he caught his breath. The action relaxed him but also drove him more wild with need. He pulled you closer, moving his hips into deep but controlled thrusts. His wide needy eyes begged for you to allow him to move faster.

“Good, Luffy. Now faster.”

With that, he stood up from the bed. He brought both arms around your waist and backed you into one of the walls. Once against it, he pushed on your abdomen encouraging you to lie back into the wall at an angle. When he was happy with your position, he wrapped your legs tighter around his thighs and waist. His hands traced up your legs to your hips, where his fingers dug into your exposed skin.

He nodded at you and you nodded back. With the release of a deep breath, he began thrusting faster into you, his form becoming sloppy, but the new position allowed him to hit deeper inside you.

Your hands rested on his shoulders, your hips bucking against him. The position allowed him to hit your sensitive spot within your folds.

“Perfect, Luffy right there… Yes.” you cooed.

His eyes lit up with desire, and he pounded harder loving the sweat sounds escaping your lips.

“Luffy, I’m…”

His thumb moved from your waist to your sensitivity where he rubbed circles on it. You bit your lip at the sensation, feeling the warmth within your abdomen burst.

“Lufffyy.” You moaned, your juices releasing on him. He continued to thrust into you through your release, the clenches of your walls driving him into his own. Your body trembled on him, and he leaned forward. You felt the pulsing of him within you and he released a moaning finishing deep within your walls.

“Y/N.” he huffed softly, and you could feel a smile grow on his lips against your shoulder.

“Luffy, that was so good.” Your voice was still shaky from your pleasure but delighted from the experience.

He gently lowered your legs to the floor and pulled out of you. His breathing ragged, he stepped closer to you and kissed your cheek.

“I hope Sanji’s made lunch, I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” I replied.

“Good thing you always have a snack for me.” He said with a grin as he licked his lips.

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flemingsfreckles · 5 months ago

Text

Safe Space

Synopsis: based off of a request I got (that I can no longer find) that wanted to see reader comforting Jessie, Jessie seeks comfort from her girlfriend after a hard couple days at the Olympic Games.

Warnings: discussion of the Canadian Olympic scandal, that’s it

WC: 1.6k

A/N: hi, I’m on vacation again, so here’s a sort little blurb (I have no idea when this is posting because my time zones are all messed up!) I also may or may not have reviewed this after being awake for like 24+ hours so no promises on the grammar and spelling.

You had quickly wrapped a towel around your body as you stepped out of the shower, hearing a second knock on your door you originally figured it was the hotel sending up the extra blanket you had requested before you hopped in the shower. However, when the knocking continued, becoming more insistent you turned and moved over to the door, double checking that you were covered before looking through the peephole and immediately pulling the door open.

“What are you doing here?!” You said, shocked to see Jessie standing in front of you. “You can’t be here.”

“I know but, can I come in?” Her voice was quiet, she only made eye contact with you in short glances. She shifted her weight, hands fiddling together.

“Jess…” as you say her name she looks up giving you the chance to fully take in her appearance. You notice her slightly disheveled appearance, a frown across her face, eyes watery, her lip had a slight shake to it as she awaits your answer. Your heart sinks at the obviously distraught appearance she had. “Yeah, come in.” You open the door to your own hotel room before quickly glancing into the hallway to see if anyone else was around.

“You’re not supposed to be here Jessie.” You tried to gently remind her as you follow her into your hotel room.

Jessie sighs. “I know, I just, I needed you. Even if it’s just for a few minutes.”

The Canadian team had spent the last couple of days playing their first games of the Olympics, all wins but outside of the game, everything was a mess for Canada. Everything was a mess for Jessie. Drone scandal, being labeled as cheaters, losing coaching and staff, constant pressure from the press to make statements, nothing about this tournament had been easy.

You knew the pressure your girlfriend was holstering. Not only was she captaining her first major tournament, she was captaining what felt like a sinking ship. She had been nearly silent since the news broke, calling you just to say a hello before falling into silence and letting you speak until other obligations caused you to hang up.

You saw her briefly after the first game, she had looked tired, as did every other player. You got the chance to talk with her, remind her how proud of her you were, how proud everyone was, but you knew she didn’t care to hear it.

By the end of the second game she looked not just tired, but drained. Only coming over to quickly see you following their victory she hardly spoke, muttering a greeting and letting you kiss her cheek and give her a quick hug before she retreated to the locker room, head down as if they had just been beaten.

The third game she hardly looked like herself. Dark circles had formed under her eyes that had slowly lost the sparkle you had become so used to seeing. She hardly smiled, only looking like she was having fun during a goal celebration before her face would return stoic. She hardly even spoke during the game, not to her teammates, not to the ref, not to the other team. She simply waved to you before leaving the field, not utter a word to you, her family, or any fans.

It was unlike Jessie, she wasn’t one to usually let a games or the sport in general ruin her mood for the day, a couple hours sure, but today and this week was different. To say you were worried about her was an understatement.

You worry for her had set in days ago, when the news first broke. You knew your girlfriend well and you knew how she’d likely cope with the situation. Jessie would do her best to take the weight off her teammates inadvertently putting it on her own back. She’d try to hold the team together as best she could, at the expense of herself. She’d stay up late to talk with the other girls, to make sure they felt reassured, not caring that she lost sleep over it. You knew she’d do anything for her teammates, even if it meant hurting herself.

You felt like you were watching your girlfriend break apart, unable to do anything.

When she showed up, unannounced at your hotel room, you knew things were bad. It was so different, she was actively going against the team's rules and guidelines sitting in your hotel room. Jessie wasn’t one to mess around with the rules. She followed them and encouraged her fellow teammates to follow them as well. Thus meaning she never left the team hotel to see you when she wasn’t allowed, she didn’t sneak off, especially not to come to your room, her being here meant she needed you.

“What’s going on?” You said looking over your shoulder at her as you rummage through your suitcase for some sweats. You give her a second to respond and when she doesn’t, you turn around as you drop the towel and pull a shirt over your head.

Jessie is laying on your hotel bed, one arm slung across her eyes, her other resting on her stomach. You watched as she took a few deep breaths, her chest rising and falling. Slipping on underwear and a pair of sweats, you quickly moved to hang up your towel before sitting on the edge of the bed.

Your hand comes to rest on Jessie’s thigh, giving her a comforting rub. “Jess, do you want to talk about what’s going on with you?”

“It’s, just all of it, it’s too much to get into, I can’t do it.” Her voice quivers slightly, to anyone else they might not have noticed, but you knew. “I know I can’t be here but, just a quick cuddle please?” She pulled her hand away from her face, and sat up. Seeing the mix of disappointment and sadness in her eyes made your heart ache. You never wanted to see her this upset over a game, especially one they didn’t even lose.

“Sure babe, but it’s gotta be quick, you can’t be getting in trouble for sneaking out.”

“I know, but I, I can’t be in that hotel anymore, I just can’t. They’re all looking to me, and I don’t have the answers!” Her words stop and you notice she’s suddenly breathing unevenly.

“Jessie, hey.” Trying to pull her attention, you quickly stand up from the bed to squat in front of her, putting your hands on her face. You can see her relax slightly into your touch. “Look at me, Jess, look at me.”

“You’re doing the best you can, that’s all anyone can expect of you. That’s all you can do.” You try to convince her of the words you were saying, letting your thumbs gently caress her cheeks.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I’m so tired of talking about it, I just need you.”

“Okay, come here.” You stand up, climbing onto the bed to lay down before lifting the covers out so Jessie can join you. She curls her body into your side, her head coming to rest on your chest and her arm draped across your chest, her hands resting just under your breast. “I love you.” You kiss the top of her head, feeling her hum in response.

You run your fingertips along her back, scratching lightly, aiding her in falling asleep. It’s not long before her breathing slows and you feel her completely relax against you.

You remained still in bed, the last thing you wanted to do was to stir and jostle the head that rested on your chest. The arm that was wrapped under her body had fallen asleep a long time ago but you couldn’t move her. You watched as your girlfriend’s phone rang, Janine’s face on the screen, you debate answering it for her before letting it go to voicemail.

Your own phone then begins to ring, this time you answer. “Hey Janine, what’s up?” You whisper, trying to keep your voice low.

“Hey, have you heard from Jess? I don’t mean to panic you but she’s not in our room, haven’t seen her in a bit.” You can pick up on the worry in your girlfriend’s best friend’s voice.

You look down to where your girlfriend’s head was resting on your chest, soundly asleep. For the first time in days she looked peaceful, she looked like she was okay.

You whisper back to Janine, not wanting to wake Jessie. “I don't want her to get in trouble, but I’ve got her, she’s fine.”

“She’s with you?” Janine asks, sounding confused.

“Yeah, I know she shouldn’t be, but she showed up and I think she just needed a break. She’s sleeping.” You continue to whisper, pausing when you notice Jessie stir slightly.

You hear Janine’s sigh of relief through the phone. “Okay, good, good. I don’t think she’s slept more than a few hours the past 5 days. I won’t say anything, everyone just wants her to be okay.”

“She’ll be back tonight, don’t worry.”

Janine thanks you before hanging up a second later. You feel the weight on your chest get lighter as Jessie lifts her head to look at you. “Was that for me?” She looked up at you with eyes still heavy with sleep.

“Janine just wanted to check on you.” You whisper, bringing your hand to her head with a gentle push in an attempt to get her to relax back against your chest.

“Am I in trouble?” You can hear the worry in her voice.

You give her another kiss to her forehead before running your hands through her hair and down her back to scratch her skin again. “No, not at all, go back to sleep Jess, I’ve got you.”

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #jessie fleming blurb #canwnt x reader #canwnt

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not-rigel · 5 months ago

Note

would you be interested in writing Sevika x (top) reader who is taller than her, stronger than her, and overall just larger than her and very masculine BUTTT is very submissive??? Kinda like a power bottom Sevika x sub top reader situation👀👀

uhhh YEA!!! hope i did your idea justice!

a little treat for arcane eve (i can expand more after arcane ends but i felt we needed a liiiitle enjoyment before losing our collective minds)

Set between s2 act 1 and 2

WC: 1.1k

Sevika honestly couldn't blame everyone for dropping ship when Silco decided to quit breathing. They have their own lives to lead. But the fact that you stayed stood out to her. When she sat in Silco’s office beaten and broken, you were the one that came to deliver the news and defend the Last Drop with her from the Chem Barons influence. You made grieving easier but the feeling was never gone. Sevika couldn’t talk about those things so most of the time she settled for drinking or flirting with you. Right now she decided on teasing you in her new office.

“So, pipsqueak, what’ll you do if I can't fix this shitstorm?”

You roll your eyes, you have no idea why she insists on giving you stupid nicknames, “Sevika, I could throw you across the room without even trying. Between the two of us, you’re the pipsqueak. And everything’ll be fine.”

“I argue that I can take you,” she says. Unbeknownst to you, she doesn’t mean in a fight.

She's been attracted to you the very moment she saw you, back when Silco hired you on for muscle. She never made a move, for the sake of professionalism. Even after Silco’s death she held back, unsure how she’d emotionally handle a sexual entanglement. But she was getting better, now that weeks have passed and she changed her look. So she let herself consider making a move.

“Alright, and how many times have I held you back while you were on shimmer?” you challenged.

“That’s in the past, pipsqueak. I'm talking now.”

There’s that nickname again, “Fuck you, Sevika. You need to stop calling me that, please.”

“Are you offering?” she quips back.

Your eyebrows pinch in confusion, “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“You said ‘fuck you’. I’m asking if you were offering to fuck me,” she clarifies.

You’re speechless. Sure, you’ve thought about Sevika in that way on several occasions but it was always just a thought. You thought about her, when she barked out orders to Silco’s goons. Or stared down at Enforcers, daring them to so much as lay a finger on her. She was always scarier than you in that regard, someone who could take real charge. It always excited you. You watch her now, for some sign that she was messing with you but you can’t find any.

“Not initially but… I’m offering now,” you say before hesitation can sink in.

She smirks, standing from the sofa and walking over to the desk. You watch her open a drawer and pull out something you recognize. It’s her old choker, the one she wore before changing her appearance. You gulp as she approaches you.

“What’s that for?” you asked.

“It’s for you,” she explains. She fits the collar around your neck, adjusting the fit. You think it might be too loose but she slips a finger underneath and drags you to her by it. You let out a whimper as she pulls you by the choker to her lips.

“You’re so strong, so tall, so fucking masc. It turns me on so fucking much,” she whispers against your lips. You could take control right now, she’s only exerting a small amount of force over you. Holding you in place by a choker, but you don’t resist her.

She pulls the collar again, setting her lips right by your ear, “Been waiting for you to fuck me.”

Immediately you’re filled with nerves. You love to top but you’re not dominant, despite what your appearance might suggest. You want to fuck her and by all physical means you could manhandle her, but it never came naturally to you.

“Can you… Tell me what to do? I really want you, I do,” you sigh.

Sevika shivers. She’s never met anyone so perfect before. Sevika needs you to fuck her, but more than that she needed to boss you around. It always gave her the sweetest thrill. And to boss around someone physically stronger than her, to have you relent all the power to her? She could fall in love in a minute.

“Would you submit for me? Let me boss you around? Tell you how I’ve dreamed about you fucking me?” She purrs into your ear. Her words are sweet drops of fire, licking your skin deliciously.

Your chest rises and falls with heavy, uneven breaths, “Yes. Fuck, I’d love it.”

“You’re so strong and all I have to do to get you weak for me is pull you by your collar? You’re so precious,” she moans.

“I like it when you boss people around. Made me so wet. I’d do anything you tell me to, please Sevika,” there was no holding it in now, the choker and her words eased you into subspace.

That’s how you find yourself knelt between her spread thighs while she sits with her ass perched on the edge of the sofa, shoving your head into her cunt. She doesn’t wait for you to find her clit, instead shifting her hips to move it below your lips.

“Grab my hips,” she orders, needing you to manhandle her. Just to show that you could control her, but ultimately won’t. You grip her hips, and she shifts her thighs over your shoulders so you have to hold her weight up. You rest your elbows onto the sofa for support, and hold her hips in the air. Both of you were feeling a perfect rush, the sexual dynamic making you thrive like you never had before.

Sevika groans hearing your sweet little whimpers as she begins to grind onto your face. You move to keep up with her grinding, trying to hold the suction you have on her clit.

“Stick your tongue out, mouse,” she demands. She loves giving you nicknames to insinuate you’re small. You’re not little, and she loved that. Every time you convinced her to drop one nickname, she came up with another. It was a power trip for her.

You flatten out your tongue so she can ride it, and you moan as her fluids spread over your face. She leaked onto your chin and you loved the sensation of being covered in her. Loved how she barks commands at you.

“Shit, gonna cum on your handsome face,” she announces, knees bending to pull you closer. You keep your tongue still, letting her ride your face until you feel her thighs tremble. Her thighs squeeze your head as her hips stop their movement. You shove your tongue into her cunt, feeling her walls pulse around it. She cums loud and hard, juices leaking down your chin and neck. You shudder, feeling your own arousal drip from you. When her orgasm is over, she has you set her back onto the couch.

“You’re not done, runt. Still need you inside of me,” she rasps. You’re alight with excitement for more of her demands, ready to beg for her all night long.

#sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika x masc!reader #i love sevika

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n0tamused · 1 year ago

Text

'Please cannot fix'

Content: angst, character death, gn reader, possible grammar mistakes

Words: 1167

A/N: to that one person said I wouldn't do it - here you go. Suffer with me now.

Once mighty and flamboyant Galaxy Ranger, now nothing but a desperate pile in the mud. The rain hails down onto him like acid, unrelenting as it bashes his back and makes him sink further into the ground. BootHill’s breath is heavy and ragged as he has long lost his voice, crying out to you to keep awake, to hold on until you’re both back at the base, he has already contacted a doctor through a built in radio - why didn’t you listen?

Leftover footprints had long since been washed away, eradicating the proof of his attempts at keeping you alive, as if he never tried.

You had pleaded with him to slow down, he was jostling you too much, doing too much, and you never saw him this panicked. His eyes could barely handle looking at the red gushing out of your wounds and onto the cold iron of his body. He didn’t listen, and kept going, his feet leaping and swallowing the ground under him with sloppy expertise, kicking up rocks and mud before it could stick to him. One of his hands mussed up your nape, patting the skin and pushing your head closer against him until he could feel your breath on his actual skin - on what little he had to feel with. “Just a little more, sugar-” he’d say, turn after turn, thunder growling behind him. Moments feel like minutes, and he swears he can run faster, but he can’t -

“BootHill, stop-!” he froze, his eyes escaping whatever daze his mind spun him into, darting to look at your begging ones. Tears or rain, it made your nose red and your lips quivered with the weight of your words. “Let me go..” You breathed it out, cupping his cheek and turning him to face you, forcing him to feel the fleeting warmth of your palm, it prevented him from running. However, he doesn’t stop moving, he consciously, simply cannot, and for once his artificial body agrees with his organic one; and neither listens to your wishes for him to stop carrying you. “I-I can’t- are you crazy?!” he blurts out sharply, but his face betrays the anger of his tone, his eyes, as wide as yours, show the man crazed with fear of losing something precious beyond life itself.

“No, no, move yer hands away, I can’t see” he grumbles with a tangible tension in his jaw, shaking his head, flicking raindrops from the tips of his hair.

“Please..BootHill..I don’t want this sight to be my last-! Please, put me down” you argued, lungs feeling heavy and full of holes that let the rain in. They burned for life, for air, they sought to be engulfed in warmth of the space ship once more, to breathe in the metallic scent that fill the room as BootHill cleaned his iron from the rain. Just once more. But you knew such a future was only a dream behind your heavy lidded eyes that were harder to pry apart every blink. “Please..just hold me..” you muttered with defeat in your tone, and perhaps it was that which stopped BootHill at long last, or the sight of the bridge that had been split and broken before him, with the raging wide river threatening to swallow the earth itself around it.

He slowly lowered himself to the ground, you in his lap, and his eyes bubbling up with what you could call tears. Translucent blue in color and greasy in texture, his tears fell for you. One metal and freezing hand goes on top of the biggest wound on your torso, pushing down to stop the bleeding.

BootHill never felt more hopeless and useless than he did now. He tried and failed. And most heartbreaking of all, he didn’t protect you when he needed to. When he should have.

The rain fell harder after that. Your body absorbede the cold of it and grew heavier in his lap.

The wind howled over his head and went right through him too.

…..

Your face was the palest he had ever seen.

Your lips blue.

Eyes shut.

Hair slicked back with how many times he ran his fingers through it, keeping it from your face. Keeping you tidy.

You were limp and heavy, and you were still.. whole, as whole as you could be. He had cried all the tears he had within him, and he struggled to breathe for even longer. Feeling raw and more human than he did even before being turned into this walking machinery.

You had held his face, and you apologized to him, and asked him to smile, you asked him to deliver you one more charming line - and he failed you in that too.

….

The silence was unbearable, and the cacophony even worse. Now, in the confined space of his ship, he cracked his voice raw open as he glared at the little hologram of the doctor that turned him into this walking tin can.

BootHill couldn’t stand the sound of his own voice that fluctuated higher with the flare of his anger, every sentence more distraught than the last. It got to the point the Doctor on the receiving end had gone silent as a grave, realizing the futility of trying to speak over BootHill.

‘Bring them back’, he pleaded, hovering over the hologram, making himself feel greater, stronger, and more in control.

‘If you could turn me into this with just ma head alone, you can help them as well!’ he argued, teeth grit together and showing off their points. Like a cornered dog he clawed and bit and held the last pieces of hope in his maw. ‘They’re whole, jus’ a few scratches-’ he added in haste, and the doctor began shaking his head.

‘Please, Doctor, you’ve gotta’ he stared at the flickering hologram, feeling something akin to acid rise in his throat, sick at the thought of denial. No, he wouldn’t give up on you. ‘Why not?! Because they’re not as loud as I am?! What is the reason?!’. He tried to argue and reason with the other man, and when he ran out of reasons he began to repeat the ones he already mentioned.

‘WHY NOT YOU IDIOT?!’ he shouted, now on his knees before the system table in front of him, the hologram now looking much larger than his own figure. His elbows still rested on the table and he felt like strangling the man in front of him through the hologram itself.

He could see the Doctor’s face fall, disappointed at best. And he heard him sigh.

“BootHill. I can’t do it, and I won’t try it.”

The hologram flickered, and then went out, allowing the dark of the spaceship to swallow him whole. Trickles of oil began to seep through cracks in his metalwork, and more of his tears began to bubble up in his eyes. Like claws, his hands fell over his face, muffling a choked cry of anguish.

-Tags: @prettyliliy @nvuy @lofasofabread @teanypaws @molotto

(I just tagged everyone who showed interest when I talked about this idea, pls lemme know if you don't want the tag/want to be removed from the post <3)

#boothill x reader #boothill x you #boothill x gn reader #boothill x y/n #boothill #boothill hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x you #angst #-n0tamused.angst #honkai star rail imagines #boothill imagines #drabble

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asunsetgrace16 · 1 month ago

Text

✧ 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗢𝗥 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗧 ⎥ 𝗙𝗠45

Pairing: Fraser Minten x fem!reader

Warnings: fluffyyyyy, pregnancy announcement, pregnancy things, some fade to black action (so very mild)

Summary: In the whirlwind of being traded and relocating to Boston, Y/N and Fraser are in for a surprise

Notes: I am all up in my feel about Fraser being traded and I'm not even a Leafs fan, but this was such a cute idea and I couldn't resist. And he's not even #39 anymore 😭

masterlist⎥ navigation

Word Count: 3.1k

The end of the season was a whirlwind for Y/N and Fraser. He had to pack up and relocate to Boston, but she couldn’t join him until May and get her university transfer figured out. But finally, finally, Y/N is in Boston and everything is working out. The first day he’s back in Toronto after the trade is an emotional one, it’s unsettling to see him in Boston colours instead of the white and blue. It is heart-wrenching for Y/N to see the conflict on his face as they leave the arena after his game and they drive back to her apartment hand-in-hand. The next hours are spent eating and packing more of Fraser’s things to ship to Boston, save for the clothes Y/N takes for herself. Music is playing softly and tender touches settle something inside Fraser’s chest, like it’s all going to be ok after all.

The only light in their bedroom comes from the lamp, throwing shadows across Y/N as she sits perched on the bed, crisscrossed with a book in her hands. Fraser walks out of the bathroom, only in sinfully low-slung sweatpants. Y/N eyes him, not discreetly at all and he looks at her intently, a simmering heat in his blue eyes that makes her pulse stutter. She unfolds herself and sets her book down before wrapping her arms around Fraser. Warmth spills off of him and they sway gently as the opening guitar of ‘Tennessee Whiskey’ rolls out of the speaker. An impromptu slow dance morphs into tender kisses, Fraser’s lips meeting hers slow, unhurried.

Her hand slides up his arm, fingers digging into the thick muscle of his shoulder. Her lips part on a soft gasp and Fraser deepens the kiss, licking hot and wet into her mouth. He groans, chest rumbling underneath Y/N’s fingers pressed into his pec. The strain of the trade makes everything more charged, knowing that their time together has an end date now. Heat builds, builds around them and between them, need swirling low and hot in Y/N’s belly.

She breaks the kiss, resting her forehead on Fraser’s. Her hand rests on the nape of his neck and tangles her fingers in his curls. She whispers a reverent “I love you” into the darkness, barely a breath against his lips but the weight has Fraser kissing her again, deeper and all-consuming. He walks them backwards and Y/N’s knees hit the bed and gently, ever so gently, Fraser guides her back, lips finding hers once more.

The apartment is finally unpacked with the help of Potsy, Beecher, and Mason. Now, the mouth-watering aroma of garlic and onions float through the kitchen as a lively debate on the best pasta shape has the house in a chokehold. Midway through arguing with Beecher that Rotini is far superior to Fettucini, a wave of nausea hits Y/N, a cold sweat coating her body as her vision wavers. She abruptly excuses herself, leaving the room so quickly that she misses the worried expressions the four Bruins wear.

The bathroom floor is cool where she curls up, forehead braced on her arm on the edge of the toilet. She breathes through it, fighting the nausea coiling up her throat. She loses that battle right as Fraser opens the door, and he rushes to pull back Y/N’s hair. He rubs wide soothing circles into her back, his low murmur gives Y/N something else to focus on. He presses a kiss to her sweaty temple and goes for the glass at the edge of the sink. A rinse and tooth brushing later, Y/N is cradled against Fraser’s chest on their bed, his fingers dancing up and down her arm.

“What was that all about, hm?” he asks gently, nose pressed into her hair, “You don’t usually just throw up like that.”

Y/N pauses, breath catching, knowing that she has to tell him, the photos hidden away from the doctor’s appointment last week that confirmed her suspicions. So she turns in his hold, putting some distance between them. She takes a breath, steels her nerves. But the fear, the anxiety she’s been trying to hold back comes crashing over her, eyes filling with tears as she bites her lip. Fraser looks at her with such tender concern that a tear spills over, rolling down her cheek.

“I’m pregnant.”

There’s a split second of silence, followed by Fraser jumping up, letting out a holler as he tugs Y/N up off the bed and into his arms. He picks her up and spins, still grinning and cheering like the Canucks just won the cup.

“Oh my god, are you serious?” he asks, warm hands bracketing her waist, eyes searching hers. She nods, pure relief crossing her face. Perceptive as always, Fraser brings a hand up, brushing her cheek.

“Baby, I’m so happy. You didn’t have to worry, but I understand. God, I can’t believe it!”

The pure joy in his voice is enough to make Y/N laugh while Fraser goes in for the kiss. There is more laughing than kissing, but love all the same. The moment is interrupted when the boys burst into the room, wide-eyed and dishevelled.

“So nobody’s killed each other right?” Potsy asks.

Y/N shakes her head with a smile, “No, all good here.”

“Why is Mints grinning like a madman, then?” Mason asks with a pointed look. The three wear their eyebrows in their hairlines.

Fraser chuckles at them, “Boys, we’ve got a Junior Mint coming our way soon.”

It takes a second for their brains to compute, but the instant it clicks, there is yet another round of cheers and hugs and congratulations. No questions, no doubts, just love and support from family.

By the time Y/N hits sixteen weeks, relief takes the lingering anxiety away over the things that could have gone wrong, and the initial panic of “oh shit, we are going to be parents at 20” has subsided enough for an announcement to the team. Their parents already know and at first they were nervous, but are now simply ecstatic to meet their first grandchild. A simple post on instagram lets the world know after sending out a text message to teammates and their wives. It was the best option considering the whole team is spread across countries and continents during the offseason.

yourusername and frasermints

Liked by matt.poitras, masonlohrei, jere.swayman, and 10,558 others

yourusername Junior Mint 🖤💛

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matt.poitras I call godfather duties

masonlohrei I will definitely be the favourite uncle

_pasta good luck with that

nhl Congratulations to the Minten's 🐻 🖤💛

nhlbruins Congratulations Fraser and Y/N! We can't wait to meet our newest Bruin 🐻

_pasta 🐻

jere.swayman Two of the most responsible people I know are having a kid, you guys will do great. Congrats!! 🖤 💛

_morgangeekie Baby Bruin!

connorbedard Can't wait!

conorgeekie_ I'd say something different, but Morgan is looking over my shoulder right now so congrats guys!

becker Mini Mints! Can't wait to meet them!

macklincelebrini congrats you two!

ausmatthews Miss you in Toronto, bud! Bring the munchkin to a Leafs game so we can covert them before your teammates can corrupt them

mmarner the kid is having a kid. Are we officially old now?

will.nylander Congrats!!

Five months in and Y/N had hoped that the morning sickness would be over. And the night sickness. And the lunch sickness. It got to the point where she talked to her professors and got her classes switched to all online for the upcoming year. But alas, the porcelain throne is her best friend every morning like clockwork. The benefit to it being summer is Fraser is home all the time he’s not training, so it makes everything a little more bearable.

Despite the constant sickness, the baby is healthy and things are progressing as they should. Still, the fact that Y/N isn’t showing yet concerns her more than she lets on. She feels regular flutters of movement, more of a tickle than anything, and Dr. Haisha assures her that it's typical not to show until twenty weeks at least. The August heat and pregnancy do not mix, so Y/N’s days are spent in shorts and bras around the house.

Y/N goes through her typical Monday morning; wake up, sprint to the bathroom, Fraser is waiting with her toothbrush and a bottle of Gatorade. Sip in that while Fraser eats, nibble in the cracker of the day before going to get dressed. Rinse and repeat.

Fraser is grabbing running shoes from the closet when Y/N lets out a huff, frustrated with her denim shorts. Brow furrowed, Y/N tries again to get the button on her shorts done up when turns, standing sideways in front of the mirror. She lets out a soft gasp, a smile hits her face.

“Fraser!” she calls over her shoulder, running her fingertips across the barely-there swell of her belly.

“What?” he asks, before stopping short behind her. She can see his face in the mirror, pure wonder taking over him as he comes up and wraps an arm around her. One of his large hands drifts downwards, gently cradling the small bump, while he threads his other fingers through Y/N’s belt loop on the other side.

Turning her head to the side, Y/N meets his eyes before Fraser presses a kiss to her lips, whispering, “This is really happening. That’s our baby.”

The past four months have been filled with names being tossed around, and the fact that Y/N and Fraser wanted to wait until the baby is born to find out the sex makes it all the more difficult to pick a name. But now that Y/N’s at six months, it’s crunch time.

“How about Dallas?” Frasher throws out.

“Absolutely not.”

“Yeah, I thought so too. We are no closer to deciding than we were five months ago”

“I quite literally have no idea where to start.” Y/N tosses her head back over the arm of the couch, feet propped in Fraser’s lap.

“Well, how about Blake for a middle name, it would work for both a boy or a girl, and it works since we asked my brother to be the godfather.”

“I like it for a boy. Oh how about Daphne for a girl?”

“That’s really nice. I say we go for that one, and a middle name? Caroline? After your grandma, how about.”

“Daphne Caroline. I love it. What about Ashton? Or Ash, for a boy. Actually no, Ashton.”

Fraser muses, “Ashton Blake Minten. Well, it sounds good together, and is nice to say. Not too modern but also traditional compared to some of the names out there.”

Fraser and Y/N share an exasperated look. Their online searches for names proved to be less than helpful when they always came across the same wild names that they couldn’t believe people would actually name their children.

“So it’s decided then?” Y/N says, pen poised over the inside cover of her baby names book. Fraser nods, and ‘Ashton Blake’ and ‘Daphne Caroline’ are written down, ready to be used in three short months.

Month seven brings the start of the season and the finishing touches to the nursery. All the boys banded together to make sure that everything was finished before opening night. Y/N stands in the middle of the chaos directing traffic, from bins of hand-me-down baby clothes to the new wooden dresser that David and Jeremy very generously hauled up to the apartment. The walls were painted a soft green, with rich wood paneling on the lower half. The dresser and change table are along one long wall, a rolling cart with diapers and Vaseline and wipes beside it. A rocking chair is in one corner, plush cushions and a footrest and little side table ready for late-night feedings. The crib sits opposite the dresser, lined with soft beige and butter yellow blankest. A basket under the window is full of baby toys and stuffed animals, shelves on the wall are lined with books. Y/N stands in the middle, and a decisive nod sends a cheer through the gaggle of hockey players crammed into the room and hallway.

“Oh shit, oh shitshitshit.” Y/N grits out, panting and gripping Kiley’s hands in the family room at TD Garden. Of course the baby conveniently decided to be born in the middle of a Bruins game. She felt the twinges earlier in the day, but after three false alarms of Braxton-Hicks, Y/N wanted to chance it and go to this game, just in case it’s her last for a while. Once the pain subsides, she lets out a deep breath, closing her eyes.

Annica has the timer going, and it’s over ten minutes in between contractions, so it's definitely not time to go to the hospital yet. Y/N is wishing that the baby will hold off long enough for Fraser to finish the game and go to the hospital with her, but she doesn’t have high hopes, knowing how unpredictable both babies, Boston weather in the winter, and hockey games tend to be. For now, she has Kiley and Annica and the other wives in the warm family room, the first period of Bruins vs. Chicago playing on the TV.

By the time the second intermission rolls around, Fraser has scored his second of the game, Y/N’s contractions have hit eight minutes apart, and the latest weather reports have a full-blown blizzard whipping through Boston.

“Well, it looks like you aren’t getting to the hospital,” Kiley says, “it looks like we had better prepare for you to deliver here. I know it’s not ideal, but it’s not safe to try and get to the hospital right now.”

Y/N just nods. It’s easier to go with the flow at this point and she is so grateful for Kiley stepping up, even though she was the backup plan for labour anyways. The team doctor has been kept in the loop, stopping by every 20 minutes or so to see how things are. Y/N has stubbornly refused to let him tell Fraser, wanting to keep his focus on the game for as long as humanly possible. Most of the wives left earlier, both because of the storm and wanting to give Y/N some privacy. Towels and blankets have been brought in, and Potsy’s girlfriend Sage has offered to be the runner for when the doctor is needed.

The third period starts hot, Connor Bedard scores his second of the game and Morgan gets into it with Alex Vlasic. Y/N paces the room with Kiley and Annica, pausing only to catch her breath during contractions. The latest time has them at four minutes apart. More pacing, and breathing, and white-kuckling her way across the room. Kiley’s and Annica’s hands have to be made of steel; Y/N has gripped them so hard they must be bruised to hell by now.

She groans through another one just as Fraser scores for his first NHL hat trick, “What a day, huh, baby? Dad gets his first hat trick, and we get to meet you.”

The hardest part is waiting, but for a first pregnancy, Y/N’s labour has gone surprisingly fast, both a blessing and a curse. With Boston up one and eight to go in the third, Bedard scores again for his own hat trick. Just as the few hats are being collected, Y/N’s eyes widen. She finds Sage, nodding frantically that it’s time. She takes off running, while Emma unfolds blankets and towels. The kettle has warm water in it, and everything is as clean as it will get for delivering a baby in a hockey rink.

The doctor runs in with Sage just as the camera pans over to Fraser running down the tunnel as the announcers give the reason for his exit, “Well with seven and change here to go in the third here in Boston, it appears the Fraser Minten has just been pulled from the game. He took off down the tunnel fairly fast, and it didn’t look like he got hit funny during that last play but oh– we were just informed by team staff that Minten has been excused from the rest of the game because his girlfriend Y/N is about to give birth to their first child, I believe right here in TD Garden due to the weather outside. Well a huge congratulations to the Minten’s and let’s hope that the Bruins can add a W into Minten’s column of achievements tonight.”

“That’s right, his first career hat trick, a baby, and win is one heck of a night.”

Y/N laughs at the broadcast as keeps walking. Tem minutes later, the door bursts open to precede a dripping wet Fraser. His shirt clings to his back and his feet squeak in his slides, gripping a duffel in one hand. He grabs a towel and dries off some more after brushing a kiss across Y/N’s cheek.

“Why didn’t you get me earlier?” he asks, taking over for Annica.

“You–” Y/N pants, leaning heavily into his side, “–had the game, and nothing was happening anyways. Didn’t make sense.”

He kisses her hair and before they can keep walking, Y/N shouts out that, “It’s fucking time, people.”

She settles down on the floor, padded with blankets and propped against the couch, Kiley on one side and Fraser on the other. There is a bin of lukewarm water waiting nearby, Sage is sitting on the couch, hands on Y/N’s shoulders. A trainer kneels beside the doctor with towels, looking unsure and deathly white.

“Ok, Y/N, push on the next contraction, whenever you’re ready.”

She takes a deep breath, looking at Fraser and he nods, “You can do this. I’m here.”

Fifteen minutes later, Junior Mint makes his appearance into the world known just as Frank Nazar scores the overtime winner. Y/N and Fraser have tears on their cheeks as they get a squirming, squalling bundle of baby in her arms.

“He’s perfect.” Fraser sniffs out, draping a towel over him and rubbing his tiny back with such a gentleness that it makes Y/N’s chest crack wide open with love.

“Half me and half you. How long until he’s skating?” Y/N teases, turning as Fraser brushes the lightest of kisses over her lips.

Everything is cleaned up by the time the Bruins players filter in to meet the newest member. It turns out that the duffel Fraser had was a second baby bag, so Y/N has clean, comfy clothes and a onesie for the baby. While everyone coos and awes over him, a few Blackhawks stand in the doorway. Fraser heads over, grinning at Connor.

“Hey man, congratulations. What a night, huh?” Connor says as they hug. Fraser shakes hands with Frank, Alex, and Kevin. “There’s a few more of us, if that 's cool.”

Fraser motions for them to follow him, and Nolan, Ethan, and Colton appear behind Alex. They hug Y/N and smile dopey smiles at the baby, before Connor asks, “So what’s his name?”

Y/N smiles, Fraser kisses her hand and says, “Ladies and gents, I am proud to introduce to you, Ashton Blake Minten!”

#ᐩ☉｡.〈 sunset works 〉＞ fics #〈 fraser minten 〉#fraser minten #fraser minten x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl fluff #fraser minten imagine

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