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4barbatos · 22 days ago

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✦ forgive me, father (for i came)

venti x dahlia x fem!reader

then had a ménage à trois ...last friday night .ᐟ

cw: threesome (dom!venti & dom!dahlia x sub!fem!reader), spit-roasting, overstimulation, light dumbification, degradation and praise, blasphemous religious themes, rough sex, oral (receiving + giving), light choking, name-calling, drunken decisions, semi-public buildup, reader being very very down bad. idek atp it’s unholy.

a/n: jesus. this fic nearly took me out 😭 had to do actual research on what goes down at an american party bc obviously i’m not american (if u thought i was…… respectfully get out). also i was gonna post this at 2am but i deadass fell asleep mid-edit while “last friday night” was blasting in my left ear.

had this festering in my drafts for like a week because my brain refused to cooperate. finishing it felt like fighting for my life in the trenches, but i’m glad i pushed through bc i kinda love it??? dahlia being a repressed religious perv is sooo real to me. venti has a god complex and i’m not stopping him. man thinks he invented pleasure. praise be.

also! modern college au, everyone’s legal and consenting, and ready to make terrible decisions <3

you didn’t even wanna come to this party.

like, genuinely. you had an exam next week, a half-written paper, and a half-dead social battery. the last thing you needed was to be shoulder-to-shoulder with a bunch of horny undergrads blasting katy perry like it was 2010 and shame didn’t exist.

but your roommate was hot and persuasive and already four shots in when she started dragging you by the wrist.

“i swear,” she slurred, her glitter eyeshadow half-smudged and confidence turned all the way up to eleven, “you need to get dicked down or at least dance, girl.”

you brought a water bottle and wore a thrifted denim short. crop top optional, dignity minimal. you figured you’d hover around the snacks, say no to three drinks, and dip early with your gpa intact.

you weren’t expecting to find god.

or rather — two boys who made you forget him completely.

it started off normal. crowded house, colored leds, somebody grinding to a weeknd remix in the living room. your roommate disappeared ten minutes in, presumably to go make out with that guy from her econ class who looked like he cried after sex.

you were posted by the kitchen counter with your “water” (spiked, probably) and a vague plan to ghost as soon as someone tried to rope you into flip cup.

suddenly you heard a familiar voice, buried under the bass and drunk laughter. something warm and deep, with a laugh you remembered a little too well — like the echo of a bad idea, like the first sip of communion wine that was definitely not grape juice.

you turned your head, scanning through the haze of neon lights and sweaty bodies until you saw him.

“wait,” you said, freezing mid-step. “is that—”

you blinked through the crowd. tilted your head. no fucking way.

“dahlia?”

and like some kind of divine punishment, he looked up right as you said it. head tilted. curls a little longer now. smile the same. pretty as always, just older — more grown into himself. less sunday choir, more sunday morning regret.

you stared. he stared back.

and he smiled. slow. familiar.

“holy shit,” you mumbled. “literal church boy dahlia. the pervert.”

your friend turned her head, already halfway through her third drink. “the what?”

you grinned, cheeks flushed. “he used to moan during prayer.”

she choked. “you’re kidding.”

“senior youth retreat. i was there. it was dark.”

you didn’t mean to talk to him again. not really.

you were supposed to be getting more water — in the loosest sense of the word — and maybe scoping out the snacks before your roommate dared someone to dance on the dining table. but somehow, you ended up pressed near the kitchen counter with him, sipping vodka-disguised hydration and laughing a little too easily against the tune of an early-2000s party playlist.

like the past didn’t hum under your skin.

like you hadn’t spent whole years pretending you didn’t think about his lips when you closed your eyes.

“you still go to church?” you asked, voice looser now, a little slow from the alcohol. your eyes flicked down to the rosary slung around his neck, a glint of silver nestled above exposed collarbones. the chain dipped beneath his half-unbuttoned shirt — a silk one, of course, because dahlia didn’t know how to dress normally.

“every sunday,” he said, tilting his head, elbow resting behind you like he always needed to trap you somewhere. “confession, too.”

you raised a brow. “must be a long-ass session.”

he grinned. “only when i think of you.”

you choked. coughed. wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“you’re disgusting,” you muttered, trying not to smile. “jesus wept.”

“probably because you wore that skirt to sunday school.”

you gave him a look. “you wore fishnets to a baptism.”

“we all have our moments.”

you snorted, flicking his arm. “blasphemous freak.”

he leaned in, mouth close to your ear, voice low: “missed you too, sweetheart.”

you were about to recover — really — when a new voice cut in. higher, smoother, soaked in flirt and casual sin.

“hey,” someone drawled, “who’s your friend?”

you turned your head.

and immediately forgot how to breathe.

the boy standing there looked like temptation had crawled out of a lana del rey song and decided to make itself fashion. crop top riding dangerously high on his waist. eyeliner smudged like he’d fucked and cried in it. messy red eyeshadow painted over his lids like sin. earrings glinting with every lazy tilt of his head. thigh chains. layered necklaces. a smile like he already knew every filthy thought in your head and was ready to make it worse.

he looked at you like a cat watching something twitch.

“venti,” dahlia muttered beside you, voice already tight. “this is y/n.”

venti’s eyes didn’t leave your face. “oh. hi.”

your brain short-circuited.

he tilted his head, smile curling. slow. knowing.

your heart did a little skip. then maybe a cartwheel. maybe a confessional-level sin.

you didn’t answer. you couldn’t. you blinked, twice, trying to remember how words worked.

venti’s gaze dragged down and up in one unashamed sweep — not even pretending to be subtle. when his eyes met yours again, they sparkled. and then he smiled wider.

dahlia rolled his eyes so hard it looked like a prayer for patience. “she’s mine.”

you scoffed immediately. “she’s not,” you said, turning fully toward him — maybe too quick. maybe too flustered.

venti was still watching you, smug like he’d already won.

your knees wobbled. traitors.

dahlia noticed. of course he did. he stepped in closer, hand ghosting over your hip like he had to remind both of you where you used to belong.

“you’re drunk,” he muttered, low.

“so are you,” you shot back, voice breathier than you wanted.

venti’s grin sharpened like a knife. “i’m sober enough to know i’d make her feel better than your holy hands ever could.”

he took a sip from his red solo cup, and when a drop slipped past his lip, he caught it with his tongue.

your soul left your body.

dahlia made a sound halfway between a scoff and a growl. “you’re going to hell.”

venti shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “with her? gladly.”

you exhaled. shaky. already fucked in the head. already thinking about what it’d be like to be ruined between them — choir boy and chaos incarnate.

you had a paper due monday. a hangover waiting to ambush you. a party full of strangers that wouldn’t notice you disappearing.

and god definitely wasn’t here tonight.

“so,” venti said, stepping closer — dangerously closer — until your shoulder nearly brushed his. he smelled like wine and spearmint and something sweet you couldn’t name. “what brings a girl like you to a party like this?”

“roommate dragged me,” you replied, trying to sound casual. your voice came out thinner than expected. “i have an exam next week.”

“mm. you study hard?”

“i try to.”

he smiled like you just handed him ammunition. “you look like you need a break.”

“she doesn’t need your kind of break,” dahlia muttered, shifting beside you. his palm skimmed the curve of your waist, familiar and territorial.

venti, unbothered, leaned past you to grab a bottle off the counter — something green and half-empty — and poured a finger of it into his cup. he offered it to you with a smirk.

you didn’t take it.

“i’m already drunk,” you said.

“so am i,” he replied, “and yet i’m still making excellent choices.”

“this isn’t an excellent choice,” dahlia said, tugging you a little closer.

“what, sharing a drink or stealing your girl?”

you almost choked.

“i’m not his girl,” you said.

dahlia’s fingers tensed.

venti’s eyes glittered. “well, if you’re not his… can i have you?”

you blinked at him.

and maybe it was the alcohol. maybe it was the way he was smiling like he’d already won. maybe it was the ghost of dahlia’s breath on your neck, the memory of his hands under your skirt at sixteen, the fact that you felt so alive for the first time in weeks —

but you said it. blame the devil, the vodka, the look in venti’s eyes. you said it anyway.

“are you two gonna keep talking,” you asked, voice low, “or are you gonna fuck me?”

a beat of stunned silence.

then —

“dibs,” venti said, instantly, voice light but laced with something that made your spine straighten. “i call dibs.”

“you can’t call dibs,” dahlia snapped, sharp and bristling. “she’s not some fucking prize.”

venti only smiled, stepping closer with that same lazy, dangerous charm. “sure feels like i’m winning something.”

“i talked to her first.”

“you also tried to claim her like a parking space,” venti shot back, glancing at you with a knowing gleam. “she said no, remember?”

you blinked up at them, half amused, half unhinged, stomach doing flips and thighs already pressing tight.

“jesus,” you muttered, “this is the worst threesome negotiation ever.”

venti leaned down a little, voice dropping as he looked you straight in the eye. “oh, love. this isn’t negotiation. this is foreplay.”

you might’ve blacked out for a second. just a little.

then dahlia was suddenly behind you, crowding close enough for his chest to press against your back, one hand low on your waist, mouth right next to your ear.

“say the word,” he murmured, “and i’ll take you upstairs right now. don’t even have to look at him.”

venti hummed. “but she wants to. don’t you, pretty thing?”

you turned to look at him.

his tongue was running along the edge of his bottom lip, slow and knowing, fingers playing with one of his necklaces. he was watching you like a dare. like he already knew what decision you were going to make.

your mouth went dry. your body didn’t.

“you’re both,” you said, exhaling, “so fucking annoying.”

“but hot,” venti reminded, cocky.

“and talented,” dahlia added, already pulling you subtly toward the hallway. “you remember.”

venti’s hand was on your other wrist before you realized it, cool and confident. “i promise i’m better.”

you didn’t even know who led you up the stairs — one of them pushed the door open, the other tugged you inside, both of them crowding close as the music faded behind a slam and the click of a lock.

heat. hands.

someone’s mouth on your neck. someone else’s fingers at the hem of your shorts.

“dibs on her mouth,” venti said, already dropping to his knees, smiling like the devil as he looked up at you.

“you’re such a slut,” dahlia muttered — but he let go.

“i am,” venti grinned, tugging your hips closer. “and she’s about to be, too.”

you barely had time to breathe.

venti’s hands were already gliding up your thighs, warm and smooth, dragging your shorts and underwear down in one practiced, greedy motion. the grin never left his face. not even when he kissed the inside of your knee and said, in the sweetest voice you’d ever heard:

“hold still for me, baby. gonna make you sing.”

you almost said something smart — almost — but then his mouth was on you, and the words evaporated. tongue hot, slow, teasing. his thumbs held your thighs open with a surprisingly firm grip, and then he moaned into your pussy like he’d just tasted something divine.

your knees buckled.

“fuck,” you gasped, one hand shooting out blindly until it hit dahlia’s arm. you curled your fingers into his shirt. “oh my god—”

“told you she’d sound pretty,” venti murmured against your cunt, before licking another long stripe up the center and flicking your clit with his tongue.

“and i told you to shut up,” dahlia muttered, but his voice was hoarse. his hand found the back of your neck, thumb stroking the edge of your jaw as he leaned in to kiss your temple. “you like his mouth, baby?”

you whimpered, nodding helplessly.

“yeah, she does,” venti said smugly. “she’s dripping. such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

you would’ve protested — maybe — but then he sucked, lips wrapping around your clit and tugging just right, and the pleasure hit like lightning.

your hips jerked forward. dahlia caught you.

“venti,” you whimpered, “fuck—i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” he said sweetly. “let go for me, pretty thing. cum all over my tongue.”

you did.

shaking, gasping, clinging to dahlia’s shirt like a lifeline while your thighs trembled around venti’s head. he groaned, licking you through it, hands firm on your ass to keep you steady.

when it was over, he kissed the inside of your thigh like a reward.

“so sweet,” he murmured, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “might get addicted.”

you were still trying to catch your breath when dahlia gently tilted your face toward his.

his eyes were dark.

“my turn,” he said.

you didn’t realize you were grinding against venti’s mouth until he groaned, loud and thrilled, hands squeezing your thighs to keep you there. your head spun. your hips jerked. he loved it.

“needy girl,” he gasped against you, tongue flicking quick and sharp. “use me.”

you whimpered.

behind you, dahlia cursed under his breath, pushing your bra up to mouth at your tits, teeth grazing your nipple just rough enough to make you jolt. “fuck, baby. so sensitive. you’re gonna cum already, aren’t you?”

venti pulled back just enough to grin against your skin. “she’s close.”

“she always was easy.” “she’s perfect.” “she’s mine.”

you gasped, nearly choking on your own breath.

“then why’s she whining on my tongue?” venti said, smug, dragging it over you again — and god, it was filthy the way he moaned like he’d been starved for this, like the taste of you was his favorite kind of poison.

you cried out, trembling hard enough that dahlia had to grip your hips tighter to keep you upright.

“venti—venti—fuck—”

“cum for me,” he said sweetly. “be good and make a mess on my face.”

and you did.

with a cry that split the air, you came hard — shaking, hips bucking, vision dark at the edges. venti didn’t stop. he ate it up, humming, licking through your orgasm like he was trying to memorize it. like he wanted seconds.

maybe thirds.

you barely had time to catch your breath before dahlia was spinning you, lips crashing into yours — rough, messy, starved.

“still mine,” he muttered against your mouth. “she might’ve got you first, but i get to fuck you.”

venti wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes shining. “we get to fuck her.”

dahlia didn’t argue this time.

you were dizzy, your knees barely holding, your pulse still too fast. but you didn’t care.

not when dahlia was walking you back toward the bed, pushing you gently down, stripping you slow like you were something precious and ruined all at once. not when venti crawled up beside you, kissing your neck, your jaw, your collarbone — every inch dahlia wasn’t touching.

“gonna take care of you,” venti whispered, fingers ghosting down your stomach. “you’ll let us, won’t you?”

you nodded. breathless.

“use your words, baby,” dahlia said, already undoing his belt. “what do you want?”

you looked between them — wrecked and warm and starving — lips parted, thighs trembling, mouth slick with spit and want and everything you weren’t supposed to be.

your voice barely came out a whisper.

“…both of you.”

venti beamed. radiant. unholy. like a prayer turned inside out.

“god bless.”

“god hates us,” dahlia muttered, already pushing your thighs further apart, climbing over you like he owned you. “and i’m about to make you forget every prayer you’ve ever known.”

your breath hitched. your whole body keened.

then came the first thrust — deep, deliberate — and the air punched out of your lungs in a messy, wrecked sound.

you didn’t even know whose hands were on you anymore. one gripped your throat just enough to make your vision blur at the edges, another curled around your hip, dragging you back against their pace like you were made for it. venti was saying something — words you couldn’t catch, not when your brain was sliding like honey through your skull — but his mouth was wet and hot and everywhere, his tongue licking into your teeth like he wanted to taste the exact second you broke.

dahlia growled in your ear, low and dark, his grip bruising.

“say it,” he rasped. “say who’s making you feel this good.”

“y-you both—” you gasped, hands scrabbling for anything to hold onto. “fuck, please—”

“aw, look at her,” venti cooed, voice syrupy, cocky, cruel. “can’t even think straight. how many times has she cum already?”

“four,” dahlia grunted. “maybe five.”

“mm. not enough.”

you whimpered as venti dipped between your legs again, tongue unrelenting, too much — too much — but god, you didn’t want it to stop. didn’t want to breathe if it meant they’d stop touching you like this, worshipping you like the altar you were never meant to be.

you moaned — high and helpless — when dahlia’s pace picked up, slamming into you like he was trying to fuck his name into your spine.

venti grinned up at you from between your thighs, lips wet and swollen.

“gonna make her forget the alphabet.”

“already did,” dahlia panted. “she went stupid after the second orgasm.”

you didn’t deny it.

you couldn’t. your brain had been fucked clean out of your head, scrambled like eggs, your only thoughts left were their names and the way they made you feel — raw, perfect, ruined.

and still they kept going. and you let them.

you let them, because you were already too far gone. because your body begged for more even when your mind shattered. because you’d never felt this good. this full. this taken.

because whatever sins you’d committed to get here?

you’d do them all again. twice. in heels.

god was gone. and you were still moaning.

it didn’t matter anymore. not with your legs trembling open, cunt puffy and dripping, drool sliding from the corner of your mouth as you moaned pathetically around venti’s cock.

“ohh, look at her,” venti cooed, breath shaky, voice teasing and airy as he fisted your hair. “baby’s all fucked out already, and we haven’t even finished.”

“slut,” dahlia muttered behind you, hands digging into your hips as he snapped his into yours. “you came again, didn’t you? just now. again. fuck—your pussy’s still squeezing like she wants more.”

you whined around venti’s length, eyelids fluttering. your arms couldn’t hold you up anymore. your thighs had given out ages ago. they kept you upright between them — barely — venti’s cock hitting the back of your throat while dahlia was still pounding into your soaked, overstimulated cunt like he was trying to fuck the brain out of you.

maybe he already had.

venti moaned, hips twitching as your lips hollowed around him. “you’re drooling, pretty girl,” he gasped. “so messy. god, i love it. she’s not even blinking, look—she’s gone, dahlia.”

“good,” dahlia growled, pace still brutal. “she wanted to act like she didn’t want either of us earlier. needed a reminder.”

venti chuckled, breathless. “she’ll forget her name at this rate.”

you tried to answer — to say fuck you or i hate you or please or more or something, anything — but your voice was gone, throat raw, thoughts mush.

“mm-mm,” venti murmured, noticing the twitch of your brows. “don’t think. just feel.”

you whined again — this time, deeper. desperate.

dahlia leaned forward, hand sliding up to wrap around your throat from behind. “you gonna cum again for us, sweetheart?” he rasped into your ear, hips still slamming into you. “gonna cream all over my cock like a needy little toy?”

you gasped around venti, tears finally slipping from your lashes.

venti groaned, tilting your head up to look at him. “god, she’s crying,” he whispered. “you’re so fucking pretty like this, y’know that?”

you made a wrecked little noise, drool sliding past your lips as you nodded.

dahlia grunted. “fucking knew she liked it. knew you were a dirty girl the second i saw you in that church dress.”

your cunt clenched violently.

“fuck—again?” dahlia moaned. “she’s—she’s gonna—”

you broke.

legs kicking, arms trembling, a scream caught in your throat around venti’s cock as your body convulsed, heat flashing white as you came hard — your sixth? seventh? you couldn’t tell — clenching so tight around dahlia it made him swear, hips jerking once, twice, before he buried himself to the hilt with a groan.

venti whimpered. “ohh, fuck, baby—fuck—gonna—gonna—”

he pulled out just in time, coming hot and fast across your tongue and lips, his hand under your chin to tilt your face up, make you take it. you let your mouth fall open, drool and spit and come spilling messily down your chin.

“that’s it,” he gasped, voice sweet and fucked. “good girl. good fucking girl.”

you whimpered — barely conscious, twitching.

dahlia pulled out slow, watching your slick drip down your thighs. “fuck, look at that mess,” he muttered, thumb brushing your clit just to watch you flinch. “soaked the sheets. hope your roommate’s proud.”

venti collapsed beside you, sweaty and blissed out, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

you blinked at him, dazed. “mmnnh.”

he grinned. “no thoughts. just cock.”

“mission accomplished,” dahlia muttered, flopping beside you on the other side.

you weren’t even sure which of them kissed your shoulder.

you just knew your legs didn’t work, your soul had left your body, and if god had been here tonight —

he definitely left mid-threesome.

you woke up to the sound of someone snoring and someone else — singing.

acoustic. badly. with feeling.

“…living in a material wooorld, and i am a material giiirl—”

your brain hurt. your legs hurt. your entire existence hurt.

you cracked one eye open.

and immediately regretted everything.

venti was sitting cross-legged on the floor, wrapped in a blanket like some sleep-deprived prophet, strumming an actual guitar (???) you swore nobody had brought to the party. eyeliner smudged halfway to his temples, red eyeshadow still smeared across one cheek like war paint. his lips were shiny — glossy, even. god only knew why.

he grinned when he saw you awake.

“morning, sunshine! you moaned like a pornstar in your sleep.”

you blinked.

rolled over.

and immediately saw dahlia, shirtless, face buried in a pillow, groaning like he had just been born into suffering.

“kill me,” he rasped.

you sat up slowly, blanket clutched to your chest, realizing three things at once:

1. you were wearing dahlia’s shirt. inside out.

2. venti was definitely wearing your bra like a headband.

3. someone had written “slut sandwich” on the fogged-up mirror in lipstick.

“what the actual hell happened,” you croaked, throat wrecked, dignity in shambles, and your legs about two steps away from quitting the entire concept of balance.

“sex,” venti answered brightly from the bed, still shirtless, still smug. “lots of it. possibly illegal in some countries.”

“definitely illegal in a church parking lot,” dahlia added, not even opening his eyes. “and probably a few states.”

you flipped them both off with shaky fingers as you stumbled toward the bathroom, every muscle in your body filing a complaint.

“don’t forget to hydrate!” venti called after you, far too cheerful for a man who’d literally begged to cum in your mouth five hours ago.

you grumbled something about exorcisms and shoved the bathroom door open, clinging to the sink like a war veteran. mascara smudged. knees bruised. bite marks blooming like artwork down your collarbone. you didn’t even want to check your hair.

you’d barely closed the door behind you when you heard:

“hey dahlia?”

“what.”

“did we actually high-five while spit-roasting her or was that just something i dreamed about?”

a pause.

“nah. we definitely high-fived. you yelled ‘teamwork makes the cream work.’”

venti wheezed. “oh my god. i’m hilarious.”

you slammed the bathroom door shut like it owed you money.

god, give me strength, you prayed silently. and maybe a therapist. and a gallon of electrolytes.

…also maybe another round after brunch. if they behave.

a/n: guys imma be honest this only got finished bc of @ventisslut <3 ily mother. bless 🙏 if it weren’t for u i’d probably still be staring at my docs unfinished and untouched (like me)

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blueberrisdove-sideblog · 2 months ago

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BURN YOU ! ☆ minors do not interact.

paring : firefighter mydei x fem!reader

warnings : nsfw / smut, creampie, messy sēx, cock warming, breeding kink, spitting, nipple play, dumbfaction, size kink, pet-names, tit play, hair pulling, rough sēx and gentle aftercare.

synopsis : You should’ve died in that fire. Mydei made sure you didn’t. Now you owe him a thank you you never wanted to give. Everything you built, burned to the ground. And the bastard who saved you? He’s smug, too rough around the edges, and doesn’t know how to back off. But maybe that’s exactly what you need—something to shove against, scream at, fall into when the world turns to ash. He doesn’t say sorry. He doesn’t ask for permission. He just takes, and god help you—you want him to. (modern au)

You don’t remember the flames. Not really.

Just the heat, choking. The sound of a man’s voice shouting your name over the crackle. Then hands—strong, harsh—hauling you against a chest that smelled like sweat and smoke and something older, darker.

That was two weeks ago. The warehouse—your family’s last remaining property—was gone. Along with your savings. Your job. Your plans. You’re living in a borrowed apartment with nothing but the smoke-stained clothes you had on that night.

And him.

Lieutenant Mydei. Firefighter. Asshole.

You didn’t expect to keep seeing him after the fire. But somehow, he’s always there. Bringing you coffee without asking. Fixing your apartment door like it’s his. Picking you up when the nightmares hit and you end up crying outside in the cold.

You never asked him to stay. But he does.

Tonight, the power’s out. Summer thunderstorm. Sheets of rain smacking the window. You’re sitting cross-legged on the couch in shorts and a tank top, phone dead, candles flickering. A sharp knock makes you flinch.

You already know who it is.

When you open the door, he’s soaked through. His uniform clings to him, navy shirt nearly black with rain, reflective pants low on his hips. Drops slide off his lashes. His jaw clenches like he’s been holding back something bigger than words.

“Got power?” he grunts.

“Nope.”

“Generator’s fried. Substation’s out. Might be a while.”

You blink at him. “Did you come here just to say that?”

His eyes rake over you—bare legs, soft thighs, the stretch of your shirt over your chest. You feel hot and cold at the same time. His voice dips.

“No. I came ‘cause I knew you’d be scared.”

Your stomach flips. “I’m not—”

He steps inside. Closes the door with a heavy thunk. Rain slicks off his shoulders as he shrugs off the jacket and hangs it, steam rising off his body like he’s still burning from the inside.

“I can leave,” he says. But he doesn’t move.

You swallow. “Stay.”

You’re sitting beside him on the couch. There’s a candle flickering on the table between you, casting gold across his face—his cut cheekbones, the muscle ticking in his jaw, the little scar just above his brow. He’s got one leg stretched out, one arm slung behind the couch. His fingers brush your bare shoulder without meaning to. Or maybe he does mean to.

You keep catching him staring. You try not to stare back.

It’s quiet. Too quiet.

“I never said thank you,” you whisper.

He looks at you, slow.

“For the fire.”

He snorts softly. “Didn’t need it.”

“I screamed at you for not saving the building.”

“Yeah. You did.”

“…Sorry.”

He leans closer, resting his arm on the back of the couch behind your neck. He smells like leather and rain. His voice is lower now. Rougher.

“You were in shock. I get it.”

You shake your head. “I wasn’t just angry about the fire. I was angry ‘cause…”

“‘Cause what?”

“…You touched me like you owned me. Like I was yours.”

Silence. Heavy. His gaze drops to your lips.

“Maybe I wanted you to be,” he says.

It’s not gentle.

The kiss comes hard and messy—his mouth slanting over yours with teeth and tongue, one hand cupping the back of your neck while the other grabs your thigh and pulls you into his lap. You gasp against him, and he groans, low and guttural like he’s wanted this for too long.

He’s already hard beneath you, thick and heavy, straining against the wet fabric of his pants. You grind against him instinctively, whimpering into his mouth as his hands squeeze your ass and pull you tighter.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You gonna let me have it, baby?”

You nod helplessly.

“Use your words.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, I want it—want you—”

He pulls your tank top up, baring your tits. His hands are huge, calloused and greedy, thumbs swiping over your nipples until they pebble hard. He spits on them—hot, dirty—and watches it slide down, then leans in and sucks, hard, his teeth grazing. You moan, arching.

“Such pretty fuckin’ tits,” he murmurs. “Bet you’d look even better bouncin’ on my cock.”

Your face burns. Your pussy clenches.

He lifts you like you weigh nothing, laying you back on the couch, then drags your shorts and panties down in one pull. He stares at your soaked cunt like it’s a feast.

“Spread.”

You do.

He doesn’t go slow. He devours—his tongue lapping and flicking, lips wrapped around your clit, two thick fingers pumping deep. You’re crying out, legs shaking, clutching at his soaked hair as you come hard with a scream, and he doesn’t stop—just moans into you, ravenous.

“Can’t wait,” he growls, standing and undoing his belt. “Gotta be inside you.”

His cock springs free—massive, veiny, flushed dark. You gasp.

“Too big,” you whisper.

He strokes it, slow. “You’ll take it. I’ll make you.”

He lays back, legs spread. “C’mere. Climb on.”

You straddle him, nervous, shaking, but he grabs your hips and guides you, letting your slick pussy slide along the thick head.

“You’re drippin’, sweet thing,” he groans. “Look at that. Already beggin’.”

You sink down, inch by thick inch, moaning loud as the stretch burns and fills you in ways you didn’t think were possible. Your hands claw at his chest, nails digging into his rain-soaked shirt as his cock spears deeper, slow but insistent.

“My—dei,” you gasp, broken, barely able to breathe. “S-so deep—”

“That’s it,” he growls, voice thick and possessive, his hands bruising your hips. “Take it. Every fuckin’ inch. You were made for this cock.”

He doesn’t let you rest. Doesn’t let you think. His hands come up to your tits again, squeezing, thumbing your nipples until your back arches like a bow. You’re so full it’s dizzying—so full your mind starts to go soft around the edges.

“You’re shakin’,” he murmurs, almost amused. “You dumb on my cock already, baby?”

You nod, whining, tears pricking your eyes from the stretch and the pleasure and the way his cock pulses so deep it kisses your damn cervix. He lifts you halfway and slams you back down. Again. Again.

“Fuck—fuck—you’re tight,” he groans, eyes wild as he watches your tits bounce with every grind of your hips. “Squeezin’ me like you wanna milk me dry.”

“I—I do,” you babble. “Want it inside. Want your cum—”

His expression twists, something dark flashing in his gaze. His hand comes down on your ass—smack—loud and sharp.

“Say it again.”

You whimper. “Want your cum. Wanna be full. Wanna be—bred.”

“Dirty little thing,” he hisses, rutting up into you hard enough the couch creaks. “You want me knockin’ you up? Swellin’ your belly with my fuckin’ load?”

“Y-Yes—”

He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back, exposing your throat. “Then ride, bunny. Show me how bad you want it.”

You do. You ride like you’re starved for him, like your body’s not yours anymore but something that belongs to him. You bounce, hips clapping, cunt sucking him in again and again until you can’t think past the drag of his cock and the way his fingers twist your nipples between every thrust.

“Look at you,” he pants, watching you fall apart. “So full of cock you can’t even talk.”

You nod, mouth open, tongue peeking out. He spits—hot and messy—right onto your tongue.

“Swallow.”

You do. Moaning.

He wraps his arms around your waist and fucks up into you, hard and fast, making your thighs shake and your eyes roll back. One of his hands moves to your throat, not choking but holding—possessive, grounding.

“You’re mine,” he growls. “You belong to me.”

“Y-Yes, yes—Mydei, I’m yours—!”

He grits his teeth. You feel him swell inside you, cock twitching.

“Gonna fuckin’ cum—where do you want it, baby?”

You choke out, “Inside.”

That breaks him.

He growls deep in his chest like an animal and slams up once, twice, three times—and then he’s spilling inside you, thick, hot, endless. You feel it flood your insides, dripping around his cock as he pumps you full.

You both go still. Breathless.

You’re trembling, body still fluttering from the aftershocks. He strokes your thigh, gently now. Reverent.

“…Still okay?”

You nod. Snuggle into his chest, cock still buried deep inside you. You don’t want him to pull out. Ever.

He smirks, voice hoarse. “Cockwarming me now, huh?”

You hum. “Feels safe.”

His arms tighten around you. He kisses the top of your head.

“You are safe,” he murmurs. “Long as I’m here, sweetheart—nothin’s gonna burn you again.”

You’re still perched on his lap, stuffed full, his cock pulsing deep inside your overstretched heat like it owns you.

And it does.

You twitch when he shifts his hips — just a slow, grinding roll that makes your breath hitch and your whole body clench.

“Still warm,” he murmurs, voice wrecked and low against your temple. “Still squeezin’ me like you never wanna let go.”

You can’t respond. You’re too gone. Brain soft, eyes glassy — a hazy, cock-drunk little thing melted against his chest.

He chuckles. It's dark. Possessive.

“Look at you. Cross-eyed and droolin’ like a bitch in heat,” he purrs, cupping your jaw and forcing you to face him. “Not a single thought left in that pretty little head, huh?”

Your lips part. A whimper slips out.

That’s all he needs.

“Open,” he growls.

You do.

He spits—messy, wet—right onto your tongue, and watches you swallow with a broken sound.

“Good girl,” he snarls, hand sliding up into your hair. “Now stay open. I ain’t done with you yet.”

And just like that, he snaps his hips up hard.

You scream.

Your hands scrabble at his shoulders, your whole body convulsing as he begins to pound into you, no rhythm—just raw, brutal force. Your thighs tremble violently. Your eyes roll. Every drag of his cock splits you wider, shoves the breath right out of your lungs.

“Gonna fuck you stupid,” he snarls into your neck. “Gonna break you right here, stuffed full on my cock like you were made to be bred.”

You try to answer — you really do — but all that comes out is a choked cry, a garbled sob of "yesyesyesyes—"

He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back, exposing your flushed, tear-streaked face.

“Say it.”

“Y-Yours—m’yours—breed me—please—!”

Your eyes flutter, crossing again when he thrusts up so deep your legs spasm.

“Dumb girl,” he growls, his grip in your hair tightening. “Can’t even think straight with a cock inside, can you? All you know is takin’ it. Beggin’ for it.”

You sob, nodding frantically, nails digging into his back. Your body trembles with every brutal thrust, the couch beneath you groaning from the force.

“Look at this,” he hisses. “Your fuckin’ belly’s bulging around me.”

He presses a palm low on your stomach — right where his cock hits deepest — and you shatter.

The pleasure blinds you. Your toes curl. Your thighs lock around his hips as you scream through your orgasm, convulsing around him like your body’s never gonna stop milking him for more.

But he doesn't stop. Doesn't let you come down.

“Take it,” he growls. “You want bred like a bitch in heat? You better fuckin’ take it.”

Your head lolls. Your lips are parted, moaning endlessly as he drives up into you again, again, again—

Until suddenly—

He slams up one last time and holds.

You feel the heat flood into you. Thick, hot, and endless. His hand’s still fisted in your hair as he groans deep in his chest, his cock jerking inside you as he spills everything into your wrecked little body.

You’re both panting, drenched in sweat and soaked in everything else. He lets your hair go gently, guiding your head down to rest on his shoulder.

“You took it all, baby,” he mutters against your temple, still inside you. “Just like you were made to.”

And you? You can’t even answer.

Your eyes are still crossed.

You’re trembling in his arms. Legs twitching, breaths short, body still split open and full of him—but you’re not scared. Not overwhelmed.

Just… gone.

And safe.

Mydei doesn’t move for a long time. He just holds you, big arms wrapped around your small, spent frame while your heartbeat thuds against his chest like a trapped bird trying to settle. His cock is still buried inside you, twitching now and then, but all the fire’s gone from his touch. What’s left is only warmth.

“Hey,” he murmurs. His voice is rough, low, but there's something gentle in it now—like he’s afraid you’ll drift too far if he doesn't keep you tethered. “You with me?”

You nod, or try to. It’s more of a sleepy nuzzle into his neck, your lips brushing the line of his jaw. You breathe him in—smoke, rain, salt, and him—and melt just a little more.

He smiles against your hair.

“Did so good, bunny. Took me so well.” One of his hands strokes your back slowly, grounding you. The other stays curled around your waist, fingers splayed like he doesn’t want to let you go. “You’re safe now. I got you.”

You hum—barely a sound. It makes him chuckle softly, and that sound rumbles through you like thunder in a storm you never want to leave.

After a while, he reaches down with strong, careful hands, lifting you just enough to slip out of you with a low hiss. You whimper at the loss, and he kisses your cheek.

“I know, baby. I know.” His hands are already there, gently cupping between your thighs, catching the slow leak of everything he poured into you. “Made a mess of you, huh?”

You nod drowsily, lips slack and eyes barely open.

He kisses your forehead. “Let me clean you up, yeah?”

You don’t fight him when he lifts you, carries you bridal-style toward the bathroom. You cling weakly to his neck, trusting him completely.

And when he kneels beside the tub, warm water running, soft towels laid out, he looks down at you like you’re something fragile and holy. Like you’re not just the girl who rode him raw into the couch—you’re his girl.

“You did so good for me,” he whispers, brushing your hair from your face. “I’ll take care of everything now.”

He washes you slow. Dresses you in one of his shirts. Carries you back to the couch and wraps you up in his arms, blankets and all, like a cocoon.

By the time your eyes finally flutter shut, one of his big hands is stroking your hair and the other is pressed protectively over your tummy.

And right before you fall asleep, you hear him say it—

“I ain’t lettin’ you go, sweetheart. Not now. Not ever.”

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

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moonstruckme · 7 months ago

Text

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

cw: modern au, some mature themes (in that it vaguely references past smut), allusion to past abusive dynamics/child abuse

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 2.7k words

Somehow, Sirius’ hand is cold even underneath the covers.

Remus wakes with it like a cool weight in the center of his chest, fingers curled slightly with sleep. The other boy’s arm is cast over you, stretched out like Sirius had been determined even in sleep to keep you both close.

You’re considerably warmer, sandwiched between the two boys in the large shirt you’d thrown on to slink into Sirius’ room in the early hours of the morning. You’re all crammed in tight on Sirius’ bed, chosen because it’s still intact whereas yours is now only a mattress on the floor (Remus hopes you don’t need to explain that to anyone in charge of your lodgings). Remus’ leg is only just balanced on the edge of Sirius’ mattress, and Sirius himself is lying with his backside pressed against the wall, cheek resting on the mattress as he’d evidently given up on trying to share the pillow at some point in the night. The sunlight coming in through the window plays prettily over both of your features, and Remus’ chest warms with something like—wait. There’s sunlight. Coming in through the window.

He nearly falls out of bed reaching for his phone.

You make a soft sighing sound, rolling forward into the space he’s left.

“Remusss,” Sirius mumbles. “Stop moving.”

“We need to get up,” says Remus, breathless. His voice croaks with sleep.

“Hm?”

“Up, up.” He pats both of you on the shoulders before devoting his efforts to Sirius, tugging the sleeping boy upright. Remus has chosen correctly, because you rouse on your own, sitting up on your elbows with a squinty, confused look Remus really wishes he had more time to admire. “We’re on in forty minutes. Did nobody set alarms?”

You sit all the way up now, eyes going wide. “We are?”

“Did you not set an alarm?” Sirius asks him. “I was counting on you two for that.”

You shoot out of bed without an answer to your question. “My phone’s in my room.” Now that you mention it, Remus thinks he can hear a faint chiming coming from the room next to Sirius’. These walls must really not be very thick. You look at Remus, very much awake now. “Forty minutes?”

“Forty minutes,” he confirms, trying to tamp down on his own panic in an effort to avoid exacerbating yours.

You nod. “I’m going to stretch. Meet outside in ten?”

“Alright.” Remus gives you a small smile. He doesn’t blame you for not thinking to return it as you rush out the door. He turns his attention back to Sirius, still looking half caught in a dream and like he might return to it at any moment. “Oi.” Remus gives him a hard look. “I have to go get dressed. Can I trust you not to fall back asleep?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sirius rubs his eyes. “I won’t miss the bloody Olympics.”

“Good,” says Remus. He starts backing towards the door, trying to look stern while silently praying there’s no one in the hall to see him in his underwear. It had been one thing in the dead of night, but now… “Ten minutes. Get some stretching in, especially that ankle.”

Sirius seems to come a bit more awake, lips stretching in a grin. “Yes, Coach.”

Remus ignores his flirty eyes, though his face feels distinctly pink as he steps out the door, making his way quickly to his own room. He’d gotten a tad bossy the night before, not harsh but certainly directive, because it had seemed at times that you and Sirius were too timid to take steps by yourselves and damn it—Remus had waited long enough for what was about to happen. So out of impatience and necessity, he took charge. Sirius’ particular enjoyment of that came as a not-unpleasant surprise.

Remus dresses quickly, grateful he doesn’t need to stretch as you and Sirius do. He fills the time instead by fetching tea and coffee from the dining hall. They don’t have any fancy coffee syrups for Sirius, but the spoiled twat will just have to make do. He finds you where you said you’d be exactly ten minutes later, already knocking anxiously on Sirius’ door.

“Here you are.” Remus passes you your drink of choice. “He’ll be nearly ready, just give him a moment.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Sirius gripes from inside, sounding characteristically cheerful after a rushed wake-up.

“Oh. Thank you.” You take the drink from Remus, looking down at your other hand. He follows your gaze, and you’ve a drink carrier of your own. Three drinks identical to the ones Remus has brought.

A little laugh tumbles out of him. “Where did you find the time to get those?”

“Drinks are always my job.” You shrug, smiling a little. You look nervous, tension sewn into the muscles of your shoulders and preventing your happiness from reaching your eyes. Remus has the urge to drag you back into bed and soothe it out of you. “I went first thing. Had to rush my makeup, though.”

Since dragging you to bed doesn’t seem particularly timely, Remus settles for an ardent kiss to the top of your head. He takes the other drink carrier from you.

“You look lovely,” he says, meaning it. Your hair is smoothed away from your face, your makeup simple but dramatic, bold sweeps of eyeliner and color across your lids. Underneath your sweats he knows you’ll be wearing your costume, and the overall effect is bound to be mesmerizing enough that Remus hopes he can pay attention to your routine. “Extra drinks never hurt anyone.”

“Alright!” Sirius’ door whooshes open. He’s made up similarly, formidable slashes across his eyes and face set in determination. “Let’s go.”

He takes his coffee with a brief thanks. If the flavor isn’t to his liking, he doesn’t complain. This ritual, the stretched-taut tension of going to compete, should feel like coming home to Remus, but he can’t help but feel a bit odd.

If he’d taken the time to imagine what waking up next to you and Sirius would be like, it would probably have gone a bit slower. Soft rousings, lazy kisses, maybe a fond argument about who had to get up to get tea before you all decided to stay in bed just a little while longer. Not, perhaps, quite so much of this rushing, with none of you talking to each other and Remus fighting to keep up as you and Sirius speed-walk towards the competition.

He’s just caught sight of the boards when Sirius stops short. You falter beside him. Both you and Remus trace his gaze back to where two people, a man and a woman, are advancing on him with a steely resoluteness Remus knows but can’t place.

“Sirius Black.” The woman seems to be leading the charge, a stormcloud of dark hair and hateful eyes. “Horrid, ungrateful child!”

Remus blinks. The movement feels slow and dumb. You snap out of your stillness, taking several steps forward—not just in front of Sirius, but towards the woman.

“Get out of here.” Your expression is as fierce as Remus has ever seen it. The woman’s stare catches on you for a moment, a frigid flicker of annoyance, then dismisses you. “What makes you think you can just—”

“Thousands of pounds on skating lessons,” she seethes, the cold hiss of her voice somehow louder than anyone else’s. “The best tutors, private training facilities, and after all that you neglect to invite your own family—”

“He doesn’t have to invite you to anything,” you snarl.

Family, thinks Remus. Yes—the dark hair, the cool, scornful eyes—this woman is Sirius is his cruelest form. His mother.

“Sirius doesn’t have to go anywhere with you,” you go on, fervent. “You lost that privilege, both of you, you—”

Sirius never talks about his family. Ever. What does it mean, that they’re here? The way you’re speaking to them—you know them, you’ve met before, but there’s certainly no kinship there.

“—need to leave. Leave him alone—”

“Quiet,” Sirius’ mother spits. Her voice is like the twigs of a barren tree rattling against each other in the wind, harsh and grinding.

Remus looks at Sirius. He doesn’t at first know why, realizing only after he does it that he’s waiting for the other boy to stand up for you. To move his body in front of yours, fiery and protective, the way he always does. But Sirius looks rooted to the spot, his expression frozen and eyes just slightly widened. A weight sinks into Remus’ gut as he remembers what you’d told him the night after he got in Sirius’ face for the first and only time.

It’s not my place to tell you about what his life has been, you’d said, hedging. You can shout at him all you want, but just stay away from physical stuff like that.

Remus looks at Sirius’ mother, all cold fury as she tries to get closer to her son. You, continually stepping into her path, eyes blazing like some goddess of guardianship and inner strength. And Sirius, as passive as Remus has ever seen him. Afraid.

“That’s enough.” Remus hardly recognizes his own voice when it comes out. It’s harder than any he’s used as your coach, harder even than the one he’s used on himself. Sirius turns to him in surprise, but you keep your eyes on the woman in front of you, unyielding. “No one,” he says, “no one, regardless of their relations, comes in here and harasses my athletes. You will leave, or you will be escorted out.”

If possible, the woman’s expression grows colder. “How dare you. My husband and I are—”

“You two,” Remus ignores her for a moment, softening his voice some to address you and Sirius. You turn now, eyes flickering to Sirius first as if to check he’s okay, “go get ready by the boards. I’ll meet you there in just a moment.”

There’s not much left for you to do to get ready, but Remus knows better than anyone the importance of having a clear head before competition. Neither of you need to be here for this.

Remus waits as you nod, going back to Sirius and looping your arm through his before continuing towards the boards, keeping yourself purposefully between Sirius and his mother all the while. Remus watches you go, and then he turns to face Mrs. Black.

Remus has never gotten to kick anyone out of a rink before. It’s a significant mood-booster. The way Walburga—he’d learned her name when she’d shrieked it at the staff no less than a dozen times, endeavoring madly to gain some favor from her surname, which Remus had never heard before Sirius but in Walburga’s mind apparently ought to have the lower classes bending over backwards—had screeched and threatened as she and her husband had been dragged out was almost enough to make Remus regret sending Sirius away so he couldn't witness it himself. But, of course, Sirius is always better off with you.

Evidence of this arises as soon as Remus finds you. You’ve both shed your sweats, your matching costumes and makeup making you look nearly a mirror image. Sirius’ head is cupped between your hands, your foreheads bent together as you whisper to him ardently.

“Fuck. Them.” You push your forehead into his.

“Yeah.” Sirius’ brow is furrowed, his eyes closed. “Fuck them.”

There can only be a minute or so before you’re supposed to go out and perform, but Remus hangs back. Letting you have this, he thinks, might prove more effective than anything he could say.

“They don’t deserve you,” you tell Sirius firmly, “they never did. You’re here because of your hard work, not because of anything they gave you.”

Sirius takes a breath. Pushes it back out. “I know.”

Remus’ heart gives a painful squeeze for the both of you. As though by some sixth sense, Sirius looks up, blue eyes landing on his.

“They’re gone,” Remus says. You let out a breath, expression easing, but Sirius only nods. Remus draws closer. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Sirius replies. He turns, catching sight of the staff member coming to tell you it’s your turn. “Let’s do this.”

Remus watches you two go out onto the ice, hoping he looks more confident than he feels. He doesn’t doubt your ability to perform well—he never could, after all he’s seen from you these past several weeks—but you’re angry and Sirius is something else, neither of you collected enough to summon the focus you need to pull this off. Remus forces himself to take a deep breath as you finish your loop around the rink and come to a stop in your starting position, telling himself he’ll be happy for you no matter what.

He should have had more faith in the both of you.

As soon as the music starts it’s like the confusion of the past few days is wiped away entirely. You’re the same as you were, as you’ve always been, gliding alongside each other like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. The only difference is that the energy between you that’s always been there has shifted ever so slightly. Still love, but fuller now. Actualized.

Your costumes, gauzy layers of deep indigo, billow behind you to create the impression that you’re actually painting on the white canvas of the ice, each step a brushstroke done with intention and artistry. You and Sirius sweep around each other, undulating and circling and drifting apart before coming back. Your blades hit the ice after each jump like a crash of cymbals, perfectly on beat.

Towards the end of the routine, Sirius takes your hand in his. You start to circle him, backwards, one skate off the ground. Remus tenses as Sirius lowers himself into a squat, looking at you down the length of your arm. There’s not so much as a flicker in either of your expressions as he lowers you all the way.

Remus draws in a sharp breath of cold air.

You adjust beautifully, your training taking over to guide you through a move you’ve never practiced, back arched and skirt fluttering in front of you. You go through a few rotations that way before Sirius lifts you up and propels you seamlessly into a spin. The death spiral finishes out flawlessly.

For just a second after your spin, you catch Remus’ gaze, eyes smiling as if to say, See?

He beams.

Remus is still beaming when he meets you in the kiss and cry, feeling soppy and ridiculous and overwhelmingly proud.

“That was brilliant,” he says, taking you by the shoulders when you make it to him first. You’re smiling too, radiant, eyes sparkling as sweetly as the day he met you. He squeezes you warmly. “Brilliant.”

He catches hold of Sirius next, cupping his neck with both hands. The other boy’s eyebrow twitches, a sheepish smile coming to his face.

Remus laughs, “Prick,” and kisses him in the center of his forehead.

You make an ill-contained squealing sound, throwing your arms around them both. “I knew you’d do it,” you say, putting your lips to Sirius’ cheek, overflowing with happiness. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Sirius gives a short laugh. He’s no doubt enjoying the onslaught of affection, but he rolls his eyes anyway. “Yeah, sure. Just ask next time.”

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sheabuttahwrites · 1 month ago

Text

Where There's Smoke, There's Fire

Modern!AU Smoke x Annie

- Shea Buttah Bakery Masterlist story masterlist - sounds // Stardust - Lester Young - warnings - Explicit Language - -

Annie admired the blue lacquer on her almond-shaped nails, recalling the sweet yet straightforward request she’d gotten to polish them that color. The text had popped up the day before. So last minute—their date was tonight. But, for him, she didn’t mind so much. She’d make something shake somehow. Lucky for the both of them, her nail tech was able to squeeze her in the same day. The striking cobalt complimented her warm brown skin beautifully. Surely it would look just as good against whatever parts of him he wanted her to touch.

He couldn't wait to see her; that was the other part of the text. She couldn't wait to see him either. It had been an entire week since they’d been able to let loose with each other. She took a bite of her sandwich, courtesy of her special someone. It was a slow Friday, though they’d just had a companywide meeting that wasn't the easiest to sit through. Sales were on a bit of a downward trend. And, though it wasn't necessarily anything abnormal, their boss, the owner, was always paranoid about any decline.

“Hiiii—ugh, what’s that?” Her coworker Pearline’s big smile turned sour once she’d entered her office. “I was coming to see if you had some jollof or something.”

Annie couldn't help but laugh. “Nah, not today.”

“Awww.”

“You didn't bring anything? I got extra. It’s not jollof, but it’s still pretty good.” She bit into the chicken club, pointing down to the other half still wrapped in front of her.

“Yeah, I ate already. I’m just being greedy.” They shared a laugh as Pearline sat. It always tickled Annie how much Pearline could eat in contrast to how tiny she was. “Thank you, though.”

“No worries. So, you ok? I know you don't usually fare too well when the meetings get a little strict.”

“No!” She’d leaned over onto Annie’s desk with the most intense whisper, wide-eyed and dead serious. Annie laughed again. “I was just about to ask if I could chill in here until I get my feet back together.”

“Yes, you can stay.”

Pearline may have succumbed to her emotions every single time things got tense, but her work never suffered. Annie was especially grateful since they worked on the same team.

“As a matter of fact, do you have dinner plans for tonight?”

“None that I know of. Why?”

“One second.” Annie picked up her phone and dialed her mom’s number. “Hey, Ma, what you doing?

“Hi, Annie. Are you calling to cancel?”

“Ma. No, I’m not calling to cancel. I was actually calling to ask if I could bring a colleague to dinner tonight.”

“Oh, yes, sure. That’s no problem.”

“Ok, good. This greedy girl at my job loves your food,” Annie joked, looking directly at Pearline. Drop-jawed, Pearline glared back while Annie’s mom giggled in her ear at the compliment.

“How sweet. Yes, bring her. There will be plenty to share.”

“Alright, Ma, Thank you. I gotta get back to work. I do have to leave dinner early tonight, but I will be there.”

“Aniola!”

“I know, I know. I’ll make it up to you and dad, I promise.”

“You're becoming like a stranger. I’m concer—”

Annie took the phone from her ear, not liking the direction their conversation was heading in. Especially not during what was left of her lunch break. “Ok, love you, Ma. See you in a little bit.” She ended the call with a sigh, knowing she would have to hear more of it later. “Now, you can have all the jollof your lil heart desires.”

Pearline lit up. “For real? I’m coming to dinner?”

“Yes. My mom loves feeding folks. And, whatever you do, please don’t turn down any food.”

“What? That will not be a problem.”

In the midst of Annie’s laughter and Pearline’s celebration, their boss passed by and stuck his head into the room.

“Am I interrupting?”

Pearline froze. His presence was like that. Quiet, but big. Heavy. Felt down to the bones. He was also quite stoic, but something about him felt warm. To Annie anyway.

“Uh, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve just invited Pearline to dinner with my family tonight. Is everything ok?”

“Yeah. I just wanted to drop off your five year plaque.” He walked in and held it out to her. “Congratulations.”

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.” Her anniversary hadn't even crossed her mind. She took the plaque from his hand, reading the short message thanking her for her many contributions over the years.

“Your bonus will be reflected in your next paycheck.” Ears pricked, Annie looked up from her award. “We appreciate you around here. The machine wouldn’t run half as smoothly without you.”

“Awww. Thank you, Elijah.”

He nodded. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it.”

He was almost out of the room when Annie stopped him. “Hey, um… do you like Nigerian food?”

“…I’ve only had it once, but I did enjoy it.”

“Then you should come tonight, too. My parents are lovely hosts.”

Pearline, whose usually boisterous self had remained as quiet as a church mouse, almost reacted, but she caught herself.

Elijah was a little skeptical. In a couple seconds, he’d already thought up a few reasons why he should decline. For one, he already had plans for the night. He’d also never accepted any invite to anything from any of his employees. But he knew he couldn't pass this up. “Ok… I will. Thank you.”

“No worries. Hopefully you can handle spice.”

“I handle it just fine.”

“Alright.”

Annie would bet her bonus that she’d caught the faintest grin on his face on his way out. She smiled to herself. As soon as he was out of earshot, Pearline turned to her with a very apparent frown.

“Why did you invite him? He’s the reason I need to decompress in the first place. Did you forget he just yelled at us because his sales are slightly lower?”

Annie laughed. “He did not yell.”

“He might as well have.” She looked back to make sure the coast was still clear. “He’s mean as a rattlesnake.”

“He’s stern, but he’s not mean. To be fair, this is a pretty substantial business he’s running here. That must come with some stress.”

“Mhm.” Annie laughed again as Pearline’s eyes rolled. “Have you ever seen him smile? You were just smiling at him and he didn't even give you one back. Not even after your invitation.”

“Fair, but he was still doing a kind gesture. He’s always helpful if someone’s having trouble. Our pay is amazing. And it’s pretty lax here, too. No one hangs over your shoulder, micromanaging you to death.”

Pearline had to agree, but she hated every second of it, hanging her head with an exaggerated sigh.

“Trust me, girl, I've had some awful bosses. He’s a man of few words and, no, he never smiles,” a little giggle slipped through, “but I think he cares.”

“Ugh… I guess you’re right. You always talk me off the ledge.”

“At this point, I’m about to board up the damn window.”

“Oop!”

A laugh buzzed past Pearline’s lips, and she threw her hand over her mouth way too late. It was so quiet in the building, which only made it funnier. In a pitiful attempt to hold it together, Annie put her head down on her desk as they silently died in tandem. She looked up just in time to see a tear fall onto Pearline’s cheek and she lost it. She sprang up and spun her chair around, slapping her hand against her knee. It was getting harder and harder for her to stay halfway civil. Pearline had to go.

“Get out.”

“My break is over anyway. Bye.”

“And close my door.”

She disappeared and Annie was wiping her eyes when she caught a notification on her phone just as her screen was going dark. She got the rest of her giggles out and went to check it, but decided to finish the last few bites of her lunch first, thinking it would be her mom.

It was her beau.

Wear your hair up darling. And I wanna see that ass in a skirt. Show off all that pretty shit for me

She smiled down at her phone. Before she could stop herself, she was biting her lip.

i can do that

You know what ima do?

i got an idea but tell me anyway

She sat with bated breath, knowing he was about to mess her up. She could feel her body warming already.

Ima fuck you so good mama. I gotta let you feel how much I miss you

Just like that, her heart was about to jump out of her chest.

i miss you too baby

I want that pussy so bad I can already feel you gripping me. I can hear those sweet sounds you make when I’m sucking on your clit

Yearning dropped into the pit of her stomach and she squeezed her thighs together, trying her best to quell it. Of course that wasn’t enough. She looked up to make sure no one could see her falling apart. Damn those walls for being made of glass.

Smoke you know i’m at work. got me throbbing under this desk ife mi (my love)

Don't worry ima see bout that tonight

She put her head back on her chair and closed her eyes, sighing frustratedly. He had her so wet. And she still had half a shift left to work. She was also due back on the clock soon.

fuck my break is almost over, but wait until i get my hands on you

I’m ready

good. i got a little request for you too

Yeah?

leave your suit on. i wanna undress you myself. then i’m swallowing. every. inch!

Mmmm I look forward to it

@blackerthings @judymfmoody @lyrarodriguez @fendionmyfeet @fadingbelieverexpert @chaneajoyyy @astoldbychae @hotgrlcece @daddiespamm @lovethecheri @xo-goldengirl @miyuhpapayuh @buttrflybby @jiminie-08 @queengodiva619 @soufcakmistress @shiania @motheroffae @savagemickey03 @infinity2 @uhhh-nunyabidniz-heaux @deepinmydaydream -taglist-

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zosin-ya · 10 months ago

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Topic 8 - [ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]

Summary: Surviving on instant noodles, you order takeout in the middle of exam prep—what you didn’t expect was your delivery guy to be a ridiculously hot, tattooed biker. Even more surprising? He’s a fellow med student at your university. As good as it sounded, he had a complicated past with an obsessive Ex who starts to target you.

tags.: One Piece, Law x Reader, SFW & NSFW, slow burn romance, Modern AU, Penguin and Shachi as flatmates, fashion-designer uncle Corazon, Laws parents, Laws crazy Ex, Strawhats as your friends (+ Bonney), protective Law, mentioned of his dead sister, also mentions of Laws trauma

a.n.: I pulled this story out of my ass and it’s rather spontaneous how I write the story. If you have ideas, I’m open to them 🖤

status: [ongoing] last updated June 13th 2025

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1 - ʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴅᴇʟɪᴠᴇʀʏ

An awkward encounter with the handsome delivery guy, who hardly speaks to you, yet somehow makes your heart skip a beat with his pretty face.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2 - ɪᴄᴇ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋᴇʀ

Law was at your door once again, this time out of breath and visibly stressed. You offer him something to drink, which sparks a conversation that eventually leads to an exchange of numbers.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3 - ꜱᴛᴜᴅʏ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ

At the café, you met up for a study date and saw a more relaxed, yet still exhausted, side of Law. Penguin showed up, clearly curious as to why Law was hanging out with someone from his university—especially since he rarely spent time with those people.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 4 - ʙᴏʏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ

Penguin couldn't keep his mouth shut about Law meeting you, which led him and Shachi to bombard him with questions. It was just a study date, right? No big deal. His flatmates quickly realized how oblivious he was. Or was he just denying any meaning, trying to protect himself from another crazy relationship.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5 - ʟᴀᴛᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ꜰᴜɴ

Law invites you to a party, and after a few drinks, the two of you start to loosen up around each other. So much that the bathroom becomes a short lived make out spot.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 6 - ʟᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴏꜱᴇ (n.sfw)

After you forgot your keys at home and had no where to stay, Law casually offers his apartment for the night without any second intentions. Though the heat from the make out session still lingering in the air.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 7 - ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ɪᴛ (n.sfw)

You meet Laws kind-hearted uncle, Rosinante, and learn more about his complex family history. What was supposed to be a casual, cozy game night with Law quickly takes an unexpected and more intimate turn.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 8 - ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜꜱ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇʀᴍᴇɴᴛ

A girl you've never met before, starts a chit chat with you during an uni event, you being immediately drawn in by her friendly, outgoing nature. Before you knew it, she invited you to a small party where she hinted you could make some valuable connections. Little did you realize, networking with a biker gang wasn’t exactly what you had in mind for boosting your CV.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 9 - ᴄʜᴀᴏᴛɪᴄ ɢᴀɴɢ

You dearly needed a girl's night with your friends after all what had happened. Law came to pick you up, yet got dragged into the chaos of a spontaneous party with your friends. Someone save this guy.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 10 - ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇ? n.sfw)

This day should have been special, with you and Law celebrating your academic milestone together with friends and family. Yet, Laws private and closed off personality shots back at him, causing you to break down.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 11 - ʙᴜʀᴅᴇɴ

It had been weeks since you had talked to Law, feeling drained from the past events. You needed time to figure the relationship out, which caused you to run away from talking completely and be confronted with a storm, none of you were ready to face.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 12 - ɴᴇᴡ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴꜱ (n.sfw)

Trying to mend the damage he had caused, Law makes an effort to open up to you this time. He shared pieces of his past, including hobbies he’d long buried. He never anticipated that attending Zoro’s Kendo tournament with you would reignite an old spark within him—or that it would stir a newfound desire to impress you.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 13 - ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇꜱ ᴏʀ ᴀʟʟɪᴇꜱ

Two unexpected intruders—familiar faces no less—show up at your door, shocked to find you inside. Hired to break into what turned out to be the wrong apartment, Kid and Killer aren’t prepared for your defiance. Mustering all the courage you have, you scare them off and waste no time alerting Law, who doesn’t take kindly to their mistake and pays them a visit.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 14 - ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ (n.sfw)

You call an emergency meeting with your friends to figure out how to deal with Law’s unhinged ex—who crossed the line by sending two punks to break into your home. The discussion quickly turns chaotic, with no real solution in sight. But amidst the frustration and tension, something shifts. The situation brings out a side of you that no one, not even you, had fully realized before.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 15 - ꜰʟᴇᴠᴀɴᴄᴇ

It was long overdue for you to properly meet his parents. Nerves were gnawing at you — the last time you’d seen them hadn’t ended well. Now was the time to make amends and finally get to know Law’s hometown.

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littlexdeaths · 11 months ago

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stage tech eddie munson x actress reader

warnings: 18+ only here folks, modern!college au, dry humping, little bit of kissing, just two ‘friends’ practicing, ami’right?

a/n: shoutout to both @keeksandgigz and @hippiegoth97 for hyping me up and encouraging me to finish/post this. also full credit to keeks for giving me the idea for that one specific eddie line in here hehe. you are both angels and ily 🫶🏻

“eddie, i don’t know about this…” you hesitate, silently praying he can’t hear your quickening pulse due to your close proximity. “this isn’t too weird?”

it’s a precarious position you’ve found yourself in, straddling the lap of one of your tech crew. and if anyone were to peek their head in the auditorium they would think something much more scandalous was taking place.

but between the two of you, this was just a friend helping out another. even if the utterance of the word friend made you want to shrink inwardly.

because you felt way more than friendly feelings towards the guy seated beneath you.

“hey, it’s alright… just,” he pauses, hands carefully slipping around your waist to coax you fully onto his lap. “there— see? i don’t bite.”

but eddie’s cheeky grin does nothing to slow your accelerated heart rate.

“besides, if you can’t do this with just you and me… how do you expect to do it in front of an audience?”

he gestures to the sea of empty seats, but the unyielding reassurance in his eyes has you relaxing fully onto his lap.

“there you go,” he mumbles, glancing down at the pages of your open script beside him.

while you fully knew what you were in for when you auditioned for this show, you didn’t exactly expect yourself to be thrust into the role of leading lady veronica sawyer.

you had been gunning for the role of ditzy, but adorable heather mcnamara— but were utterly surprised to find yourself cast in the role of veronica instead. but it was a challenge you were more than willing to take on.

so when eddie (amongst the rest of the cast and crew) had seen you struggling during beginning rehearsals for dead girl walking— he of course offered to help you work on your confidence outside of scheduled rehearsals.

while his intentions were mostly pure, he can’t deny that having you in his lap was making him feel things he would be too ashamed to admit aloud. he just hopes his lower half can keep itself in check for the next hour and a half.

you blow out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, allowing your hands to rest fully on his shoulders. you can feel his muscles contract beneath your fingers when he sets your script back down on the stage floor.

“so, from the full steam ahead line?” he asks.

but you’re suddenly rendered speechless when the dimmed stage lights reflect the deep flecks of gold in his eyes.

oh you were so royally fucked.

“u-uh, just before that?” you suddenly break his intense gaze but your next move has heat soaking into your limbs.

you slide your hands down the front of his chest, only stopping when you reach the hem of his t-shirt. your eyes flick back up to his in a silent question, to which he just nods.

“gonna ride me till you break me, right?” he grins, his hand gently squeezing your hip in a reassuring manner.

but his words send a shock through your system and without thinking you quickly rip the soft fabric up and over his head.

it hits the stage floor with a silent thud and before he can react your lips are on his neck. light as feather when they trail down the base of his throat, the encouraging, yet snarky words of your director now flooding through your head.

i want passion, give me horny teenage aggression!

so when you suddenly shove him until he’s lying back on the stage, you can see the flash of surprise that flits over his features. but you somehow miss the way his cock stirs beneath his jeans and the hunger that reflects in his eyes.

“sorry, you okay?” you whisper between kisses down his chest and eddie swears he’s gone to heaven.

“yeah— yeah, shit. keep going.”

you bite back a small smirk at the breathless hitch in his voice but continue your descent down his torso. you can feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest beneath your lips and the faint tinge of sweat on your tongue.

it takes all of your remaining resolve not to lick over the dark ink that swirls across his hip bone, but you are suddenly reminded of exactly where you are and why you are even doing this in the first place.

focus.

but when your fingers carefully card through the patch of hair just below his navel to reach for his belt buckle— it’s eddie who has to pull himself together.

while you’ve been attempting to count the beats of the instrumental break in your head, you soon realize you’ve gone on a little longer than originally intended. but eddie hasn’t bothered to correct your mistake.

the male was far too enamored with how good your lips feel against his skin. your eyes flick up to meet his ever darkening gaze as you sit back up, tossing your head back with your arm stretched high above your head.

“full steam ahead— take this dead girl walking.” you sing.

“h-how’d you find my address?” he stutters.

“—let’s break the bed, rock this dead girl walking…”

eddie’s a little stunned before he can deliver his next line at the subtle roll of your hips. the male merely leans up on his elbows to bring you closer as he tries to look anywhere but your chest.

that spark of confidence has re-ignited within you and eddie can’t help but feel a surge of pride fill his chest as he watches you in complete awe.

“no sleep tonight for you, better chug that mountain dew,” you tap your thumb against his jaw when you cup his cheek, fully immersing yourself in this moment with him.

he nods almost frantically, echoing JD’s breathless sentiment as his warm palms envelope the bare skin of your thighs. you gladly push one of his hands up higher beneath your pleated skirt, until he’s nearing the curve of your ass.

every movement and graze of his skin feels natural, like his hands are meant to be on you. it had never felt like this when you rehearsed with jonathan, that feeling of red hot desire was always missing whenever he gripped you tighter.

but when eddie continues to pull you in, it ignites a flame deep within you, one that you never expected anyone to stoke again.

you playfully tap your palm against his cheek in a mock slap and guide his dominant hand to tug on the loose strands of your hair.

“touch me there and there and there…” you gasp, yanking open the snap buttons on your blouse.

eddie’s eyes nearly pop out of his head when he takes in the lacy pink fabric of your bra, unable to tear his gaze away as you start to rock your hips down into his.

when you feel the bulge that’s now entirely pressing against your clothed core, it only encourages you to guide his hands up to completely envelope your breasts.

any remnants of the blocking and choreography have completely left your mind as you both desperately grind against each other.

the male meets your thrusts with almost perfect precision, his fly catching on your clothed clit in a way that has your whimpering in between breathy lyrics.

those sparks that have been building up inside you are about to completely burst into a raging fire, threatening to swallow you both whole if you aren’t careful.

“— wait, wait!” he all but groans when your lips press against his jaw.

his body seizes up beneath you, all in an effort to stop himself from completely busting in his jeans. each drag of your hips feels too good and the pretty noises you’re making have him wondering what you’d sound like moaning his name instead.

control yourself, munson.

eddie is panting by the time you finish belting out your final note, your body practically slumping forward against his bare chest. he cradles you a little softer, fingertips gently trailing over the bare skin of your back. and it has a shiver running down your spine.

when he finally speaks, he can’t hide the titillate lilt in his voice.

“… so, you wanna run it again?”

#the freak writes 🫧#i decided to make it into a series cause why not lmao #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #stage tech!eddie munson x actress!reader #eddie munson au #idk if it’s my finest work but here it is friends #[ series: our love is god ]#[ the munson files ]

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the-travelling-witch · 9 months ago

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𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄

summary: coming home after a stressful week, you're practically dead on your feet and ready to fall asleep then and there. luckily, your boyfriend's got you covered.

pairing: tattoo artist! scara x gn! reader

a/n: fluff/slice of life; betcha didn't see this one coming, contrary to popular belief this au is still alive; at the request of many, here is more soft modern au scara (not proofread bc it's almost 3 am and we don't question that)

modern au masterlist || genshin masterlist

With heavy feet you dragged yourself up the stairs to your apartment, hand coming up to cover a yawn every other step. Your week had been a stressful one, leaving you with little time for chores, hobbies or seeing your boyfriend, and you were just about ready to fall into bed immediately.

When you cracked open the door, the first thing you noticed was the light coming from the living room and kitchen. Did you leave them on this morning? Crap, that wouldn’t help your electricity bills.

But then you also heard shuffling and the clatter of plates and cutlery, which caught your attention. Not expecting an intruder to make themselves at home in your kitchen, you calmly kicked off your shoes, expecting to be met with the sight of an unmistakable bob cut and familiar silver piercings working away on your countertop. From under the neckline of his black shirt you could make out the top of the tattoo decorating his nape.

The hands currently plating what appeared to be your dinner -one of your favourites, you noted- twitched momentarily when you launched a sneak attack, wrapping your arms around Scara’s waist from behind. His surprise was gone just as quickly though, and from where your head rested against his back, you could feel him huff just as well as you could hear him.

”It would suit you right if I dropped your plate, you know,” Scara scolded you, though his bark lacked any and every spark of bite. Peeking around him to check if his hands were empty, you took the opportunity to plant a lingering kiss on the nape of his neck, feeling his skin go hot under lips immediately.

“Sorry, but I’m tired and I haven’t seen my lovely boyfriend allllll week, I couldn’t help myself,” you mumbled into his tattoo, not quite ready to part with him yet. “I missed you.”

“…I missed you, too, idiot,” your boyfriend sighed, pronouncing the nickname the same way someone else might call you ‘darling’. “C’mon, if you let go of me for a minute, you can change clothes and sit on the couch sooner, alright?”

That was how you knew Scara was aware of how beat you were. Eating on the couch was reserved for special occasions only, but it always put you in a better mood immediately. There was only one problem.

“Listen, Scara, I haven’t been able to do much cleaning this week. The state of my couch—“

“-has already been taken care of.” The way he finished your sentence was all the clues you needed to know he was rolling his eyes at you. “If you’d stop imitating a thistle you’d also know that.”

Detaching yourself from him, you took in your living room for the first time since coming home and almost didn’t recognise it from when you left it this morning. While your offences throughout the week hadn’t been major in and of themselves, over the course of a week, all the items you had discarded on the nearest surface while rushing through had piled up.

Now, however, you couldn’t have guessed you ever left it in that state, all your belongings back where they were usually to be found. Setting the plates down on the cleared coffee table, Scara picked something up from the couch and threw it at you before you could even reel in your mind long enough to thank him. Somehow you actually managed to catch the dark blue hoodie with frantic hands.

“I’m taking some of my others back, but you can keep that one for now. God forbid you wear your own shit for once.” Knowing him well enough, it was no secret to you that he actually loved giving you his clothes, the glint of bashful pride in his eyes betraying him every time. Plopping down on the couch, he turned to look back at you, hands making shooing motions towards your bedroom. “Go wash up and change before the food gets cold.”

However brash Scara’s words may sound to others, your heart fluttered all the way up to the smile that tugged at your lips. Clutching the fabric to your chest, you rushed to the bathroom to speed through your routine and change into comfy pants. As soon as you poked your head through the neckline of his hoodie, a familiar scent enveloped you and for the first time in what felt like forever, you found yourself calming down for good.

When you returned to the living room, you found that Scara had already flipped through the streaming service to the show you watched together but hadn’t managed to catch up on.

Handing you your dinner, you ate in comfortable silence, save for one or the other sarcastic comment Scara had to offer.

With your plates empty and back on the table, it didn’t take you long to crawl over to your boyfriend, cuddling up to where he occupied the corner of the couch. Only minimal complaints later were you resting with your head against his chest, legs tangled together over the length of the couch. The hand that wasn’t holding you close by the waist was instead running up and down your spine in soothing motions and it had you yawning into his neck more than once, eyes fluttering shut against your will.

“If you’re tired just go to sleep,” Scara mumbled into the crown of your head, shifting slightly so you could rest against him more snugly. “You worked hard this week, don’t force yourself.”

“But I wanna spend more time with you,” you drowsily answered into the material of his hoodie.

“Hah, you really are an idiot,” he sighed once more, but not even your half-asleep self could miss the thumb gently stroking over your cheek. “I’m off work tomorrow, so dream about what you wanna do. Now go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“I love you,” came your hushed reply as you held onto him tighter.

You didn’t feel the kiss placed carefully against the top of your head or hear the whisper filled with affection, but they must have followed you into your dreams, for they were sweeter than any.

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

➺ send in an ask to be added to or removed from my tag list

genshin taglist: @mccnstruck @tavvattales @silentmoths @ainescribe @meimeimeirin @dustofthedailylife @nsojbbkkm @kazuuhhaaaa @inufinuf @ynverse @nico707 @boba-is-a-soup @hellithides @ryuryuryuyurboat @the-guardian-kitsune

modern au taglist: @r0ttenhearts @bananasquash @himimikyu @franaby @samyayaya

general tag list: @the-fab-fox

#┊holly’s modern au ✩彡 #┊holly’s potions ೃ༄#genshin impact #x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin modern au #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #scara x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin scara #scaramouche #genshin wanderer #wanderer #wanderer x reader #scaramouche fluff

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 5 months ago

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The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 10

Source for pic

Trouble 10

Word Count: 4546

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Reader in a terror-like state; Dead Animals Mentioned; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I feel like this story just keeps going from bad to worse! But bear with me, please! I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it. Chapter 11 will be NSFW and will end with a cliffhanger, just a heads up!

Masterlist

Just in case people missed this, I can't stop raving about @laidenbreecatchall art for Zoro! Just look at him! *sigh* Okay, back to the story:

This can't be happening. It can't. It's all a bad dream, and you're bound to wake up soon, drenched in sweat and tears. It has to be a nightmare.

Because the alternative is too terrifying.

“Tremble for me, Kitten.” He purrs against your ear, his breath sickeningly hot, as the fingers he has wrapped around your neck squeeze with a gentleness you wouldn't associate with a psychopath. “I get so turned on by seeing you scared.”

Gross. Sick. Disturbing.

Why does nobody come to your aid? The club is packed, doesn't anybody sense your distress? You try to move your head around in the vain hope of making eye contact with someone - anyone - but he just squeezes tighter. His chuckle is low, and somehow, you still hear it perfectly, even with the loud music thumping away in an infernal rhythm.

“Nobody is coming to help you, Princess. To everybody else, we look like a couple.” The hand that's gripping your wrist, holding it tight against your waist, pushes further, and you feel him pressed against your back. “To everybody else, you look like you're mine.”

He moves his lips, placing wet kisses along your neck as you sob softly. There's barely enough strength in you for more than that. You're terrified. Fight or flight instinct? How about frozen in fear? And what does he plan to do to you? Kidnap you? Abuse you? Kill you?

You try to turn your head to the side to get a glimpse of who he is because you can't shake the feeling that you've heard this voice before. You know this man. But the movement only makes him squeeze your neck tighter, and the only thing you glimpse is a black beanie.

“Not yet, Princess. You're not ready to see me yet.” He tuts softly and inhales your hair with a lewd groan. “Now… you know why I'm here, right? You misbehaved. You let the cop stay the night; you let the cop touch you; you let the cop kiss you.” He growls as he delivers the sentences, and his hand grips your wrist tighter. You're starting to lose feeling in the tips of your fingers as he seems to be cutting off your circulation. “I don't want to do this, Kitten, but I need to punish you. You need to learn.”

He sounds upset. Almost as if he's actually sorry he has to do this to you.

“But first…” He removes his hand from your neck, but it's as though a phantom limb is still pressed against your throat. The power and terror he exerts over you are unthinkable and terrifying. Then, you feel a weight in your pocket, and he sighs against your ear. “Here's your phone back, Princess. I got it from our kitchen drawer.” Our? “You can't shut me out. You won't change your phone again. Got it?”

You stay still, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. Your heart is thumping in such an insane rhythm that you wonder how you're not having a heart attack right now.

“Do you understand?” His free hand climbs your nape and grips your hair. When he pulls, you gasp and nod stiffly. “Good girl.” Another purr makes your ear vibrate, and you tremble from the heat of his breath against your skin.

His feverish touch travels from your nape to your neck, then to your clavicle, his nimble fingers gathering the fabric of your clothes as he exposes the flesh of your shoulder. Another involuntary shudder makes you tremble as you plead silently for one of your friends to come find you.

“You will do as I say and stop indulging the cop. Sever the connection, Kitten, or I will. And you won't like it.” His lips hover over your shoulder, and the hand on your wrist keeps squeezing. The bite of the bracelet is harsh and unforgiving, making your blood run cold.

“It would be the simplest thing. He gets called to an emergency and simply gets shot…” The stalker's chuckle sounds unhinged. “Boo-hoo. Another cop killed in the line of duty. No one would blink an eye.” Your lower lip trembles, and your heart constricts. He’s capable of hurting Zoro. And if Zoro dies, it's your fault. “But you'd know why he died. Do you want that, Kitten?”

“D–don't hurt him.” You whisper, and it's unlikely he heard you over all the loud noise of the club. Even so, for you, it seems as if the music is coming from a faraway place.

“That is entirely up to you.” He sighs, and you close your eyes. “Your punishment, Princess.” Then, his massive gloved hand covers your mouth as he sinks his teeth deep into your shoulder. You feel a sharp sting of pain traveling down your arm and back. Tears sting your eyes and your sobs drown in a muffled whine against his hand. The pain is blinding and hot, and you're pretty sure he's drawing blood.

A stark realisation hits you just as he removes his teeth from your flesh, his tongue collecting droplets of blood as he eases the sting.

He's marking you.

“Mine.” He growls, and a tear rolls down your cheek.

You feel helpless, violated, and terrified.

“You won't disobey me anymore, Kitten. You won't misbehave anymore, and more importantly, you'll get rid of the cop.” His hand leaves your mouth as he fixes your clothes to cover up the bite mark. “Or I will. Don't forget it.”

His other hand releases your wrist, and you let out a ragged breath as your fingers twitch from lack of circulation.

He's still pressing against you.

“You're almost ready. We'll be so happy together, Kitten.” Your head slumps forward when he presses his lips against the back of it in a mockery of affection. “Don't disappoint me anymore.”

Then, just as swiftly as he approached you, he leaves. You turn quickly on the spot, trying to get a glimpse of your tormentor, but you only seem to catch a sliver of white.

Was it hair? Clothes? The reflection of the lights?

Or just your tears playing tricks on your mind?

With trembling fingers and uneven breaths, you dislodge the bracelet that seemed to mould into your skin. The redness is daunting - it will bruise. Another whimper makes your lower lip tremble as you try to keep your wits about you.

You need to calm down. You need to act like nothing happened.

Zoro will be here any second now, and the stalker's threats were very clear. He'll hurt Zoro. He'll get rid of him if you don't push him away - whatever that might mean, so your plan to tell Zoro everything just went out the window.

You need to keep him safe. At all costs.

“Miss, your drinks are ready.”

A gasp leaves your lips, and you nod at the bartender. You’re still massaging your wrist, trying to alleviate some of the redness, but it's not disappearing. It's just getting worse.

The way your heart is beating out of sync is a testament to how scared you still are. You need to compose yourself. New plan: take the drinks to the table and immediately excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Then maybe you can leave, claiming to be sick. You can't disguise the bruising on your wrist, though. Thank heavens the bite on your shoulder is hidden.

With a steadying nod, you pick up the tray of beverages and make your way to the booth.

Leave the drinks. Bathroom. Excuse. Home.

It's simple. You can do it. And then you can work out a plan. Maybe you can make an anonymous tip to the police about your stalker. Would that work? Or beg Ichiji again for protection? Even if you have to grovel? Maybe ask your father where he stores his rifle and take matters into your own hands?

You try to ignore the fact that just the stalker’s presence left you frozen in fear. It's highly unlikely you can fight for yourself. Who are you trying to kid?

Leave the drinks. Bathroom. Excuse. Home.

You repeat the words like a mantra, but as soon as you set the tray on the table, you feel a touch on your waist, making you immediately flinch and hide your arm behind your back.

“Hey, Troublemaker.”

“Zoro!” The moment your eyes fall on his, all your resolve crumbles. He can help you, you know he can.

“Get rid of the cop… Or I will.”

“He gets called to an emergency and simply gets shot.”

No. You can't tell him anything.

Not yet, at least. Not before you have a foolproof plan to protect him. Can his captain help? Surely he can. You just need time to think this through. You need to shake away the fear and think with a cool head.

“Are you alright?” Zoro's eye scans your face. It's most likely still red. Your eyes still feel watery, and you're sure he's picking up on those signs. Zoro's hand still lingers on your waist, so you shuffle away from him and force a smile, your arm tucked behind your back.

“Yes, Zoro. I'm fine. Did everything work out with the bomb threat?” You step away from him and distribute the drinks with just one hand, your jaw clenching with the fakest smile you've ever produced.

“Not really, it was a freaking mess.” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “Most of the time, these things are fake. Someone wants attention and pulls one of these, thinking it's funny. This time, it was a real threat.”

A small gasp leaves your lips as you lock eyes with Zoro again. A real bomb? But… Does that mean it wasn't the stalker who planted it? Or does it mean it was him, and he's just showing you again how seriously he can play?

How easily can he hurt Zoro?

“Another cop killed in the line of duty.”

“Shit.” You exclaim, and Zoro nods while reaching for a beer from the tray. After a sip, his expression softens, and he reaches for your waist again.

“Come here. We can talk later - we need to talk later - but for now… just come here.”

Your heart thumps louder than the music, and you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. He's still watching.

“It would be the simplest thing…”

You take a step back to avoid Zoro's touch, your smile faltering as you try your hardest to keep a neutral expression.

“Trouble?” Zoro reaches again, and it's like your chest is exploding as you avoid his touch once more. “You're running again.”

The faintest flicker of pain darkens Zoro's gaze, and you bite your lower lip just to keep it from trembling.

“I'm not… I… I have to go to the bathroom.” And before he says something else, you rush towards the dimly lit corridor that leads to the bathrooms, but before you can take refuge inside, you hear Zoro call your name.

He’s following you.

You pretend that you don't hear him and press on, hastening your step.

“Wait!” He calls you again, and you raise your hand to push the door open, unshed tears are already pricking the back of your eyes. Would it be simpler to just tell him everything and hope for the best?

“You'd know why he died.”

You can't tell him.

“Trouble, stop!” Zoro nearly growls, his hand wrapping around your injured wrist in an effort to stop you. Instant pain shoots up your arm as you let out a hiss and a grunt. Stopping and turning towards him with a pained expression on your face, you almost let out a sob.

Zoro releases you instantly, his hands shooting up in a defeated position while his brows scrunch, searching your face for any clue as to why you reacted like this.

“I barely touched you.” Then it happens fast, and you don't have time to react.

Zoro's eye lowers as his gaze settles on your bruised wrist. You see it widen, his pupil dilating as realisation washes over him.

“What the fuck?” The music seems farther away in the bathroom corridor, yet it still vibrates low, making your chest thump in the same rhythm as the electronic tempo, but the buzzing in your ears doesn't come from the loud noise.

You've been caught.

“Who the fuck did this to you?” Zoro takes a menacing step forward, and you can physically feel the way the air shifts. You have no time to react when he grabs your arm again - avoiding the bruised area - and inspects it, revulsion and fury contorting his expression. “Tell me, Trouble. Now.” Zoro's tone brooks no arguments. He sounds deadly serious. No. He just sounds deadly.

“I–” You take a deep exhale and try to release your arm from Zoro's grasp, but it doesn't budge. His eye jumps from your face to your arm like he can't stand the sight of the bruise, but can't stand to look away either. “It's nothing, Zo!” You force a laugh, and it sounds fake and high-pitched. “I bumped into someone earlier and almost fell. The guy grabbed my wrist to keep me from falling, and the bracelet dug into my skin.” Another fake laugh. “You know how clumsy I am.”

That was believable. You think.

Zoro's jaw clenches and unclenches, and he snaps his neck, rotating his head as he also takes a deep exhale, a gesture meant to calm himself down.

“Lie to me one more time, Trouble…”

“I'm not–”

“You are! That's not an accidental bruise! Stop trying to fucking gaslight me. What the fuck is going on? Who the fuck do I have to kill?”

Shit. Fuck. Shit.

Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

“You're being dramatic, Zoro, it really is nothing, I–”

“You stop showing up, you look like a ghost, you don't eat, you're scared, jumpy, you run from me and avoid my touch. Yet yesterday, you clung to me as if I was your lifeline.” Zoro takes another step forward, and now he's almost flush with you.

Safety. He's safety.

Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

“And now this? Let me in. Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

You can't.

“Zo…”

“There you guys are! Come on! We're going to sing happy birthday to Nami before Luffy raids the fridge and eats the cake by himself.” Usopp says, without really realising he’s intruded on a private conversation, but you couldn't be more thankful to him.

You take the opportunity while Zoro's distracted to actually run away from him, confirming his earlier affirmation that you're running and not caring one bit.

He can hate you all he wants. He can even be hurt with you.

You just can't bear it if he actually ends up hurt.

Or worse.

Dead.

-*-

The thumping music stopped just for Nami. The DJ got the birthday melody playing, and the whole club is celebrating your friend's birthday, even the ones that don't know her.

You can't stop a small smile from spreading on your lips: everybody loves Nami.

You somehow managed to lose Zoro amongst the hordes of people - he's big and bulky, so that gives him more trouble to manoeuvre around the crowd - and as soon as Nami blows out the candles, just after she and Vivi share a sweet kiss, you hug her and make up a quick excuse to leave the party early.

Then you flee the club without another thought. Not even caring if you don't have a ride home or if you didn't say goodbye to your friends.

You just need to get away from Zoro and his questioning.

The slight night chill and the difference in temperature make you shiver, though another buzz from your phone assures you the tremble comes from something other than the cold.

Yet, before you take two steps, his voice makes you stop.

“Stop running from us.” It’s Zoro. “Stop running from me.” He sounds exasperated and conflicted.

Your shoulders slump forward as you inhale deeply. He's relentless, and he will get to the bottom of this if he keeps pushing. And you can't allow that.

Even if it will destroy you.

“Tell me what's wrong, Trouble.” You turn to face him, and your knees wobble. Zoro's eye is full of anguish. He runs a hand through his hair and paces forward - everything in his posture is desperate. “I don't know what else to do to help you. I've tried being tough, I've tried giving you space, I'm trying to be understanding… Trouble… meet me in the middle. Please.”

You can't do this. You can't. He looks so broken, so helpless. And this could be easily remedied if you just told him what's going on.

But you can't. Because you know the Stalker will kill Zoro. And you can't bear that. You'd rather be scared and trapped for the rest of your life than risk Zoro's.

Zoro sees you struggling and takes full advantage of it, trying to sway you by cupping your face as he forces you to look at him.

“Let me in.” He pleads with a whisper.

Closing your eyes, you open your mouth to speak, but it's as if your voice was stolen. The lump in your throat grows, and so does the pain in your chest.

There's no other way.

“You got it all wrong, Zoro.” Your voice sounds foreign and affected. Still, you now focus your gaze on Zoro's scar. Not his eye, you can't bear that. “I'm not interested. I never was.”

Zoro's hands twitch slightly as his brow furrows, but you barely give him time to process your words before you deliver more pain.

“You just can't take a hint, can you? I'm trying to get away from you, but you keep pushing. I don't care for you like that, Zoro.”

You have to close your eyes to keep away the moisture and to prevent acknowledging Zoro's pain.

“Gosh, stop being clingy and needy. Leave me alone. That's all. I'm fine, I just need you to give me space.”

Zoro's hands part with your face torturously slow. You don't look him in the eye anymore, clenching your fists to prevent them from shivering violently.

But you stand your ground.

You need to push Zoro away. He needs to be safe. Even if your heart is shattering.

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

He stopped touching you, but he didn't back away. And as your eyes raise to meet his, you can see steely determination where before was only despair.

“You heard me: Bull. Shit.”

Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

Fuck.

“I'm dead serious, Zoro. This was fun and all, but I'm done. Leave me alone.”

You turn on your heel, trapping a sob behind clenched teeth and fighting back tears.

“Is this how you want to play? I can see what you're trying to do, Trouble, and it's bullshit.”

Bzzzz.

You shouldn't read it.

Yet you do.

Unknown: Try harder, Kitten, or I'll make him go away permanently.

“I’m not playing at anything. You don't matter.” The words leave your lips in the form of a whisper, but they linger in the air as if they were poisonous gas. Your insides twist and turn, and you feel nauseous.

“Say that again, Trouble.” You barely hear him, not only because of all the ringing in your ears, but also because his hurt is drowning the words.

Bzzzz.

No, no, no. You can't.

Bzzzz.

You have to.

“I said–”

“Turn around and say it to my face.”

A sob claws its way up your throat, and you swallow it back down. You need to keep it together for now.

With a slow turn, you face Zoro's disbelief, willing your heart to slow down, trying to keep your own emotions at bay before you collapse in tears.

“You don't matter.” You repeat the words, and the way Zoro's face turns from disbelief to pain is immediate and heartbreaking. “I was just having fun, but I didn't expect you to become so obsessed with me.”

You aimed to hurt, and it worked.

Zoro takes a step back as his eye faces the ground. The way his chest rises up and down with heavy gasps almost brings out the tears you're trying so hard to suppress.

“Goodbye.”

You turn and hasten your step, wanting to get away from him as fast as you can.

“Fine.” Your steps waver for a second when you hear Zoro’s voice, before you return to your uneven stride. “Fine! I'll back off. But I know you're lying to me.”

He doesn't say anything else, and you don't want to acknowledge the pain you heard in his voice. The pain you caused. Because your own pain is unbearable and immense.

And now you've pushed away the one person who would help and protect you unconditionally.

Bzzzz.

Unknown: That's my good girl. The punishment worked. You're almost ready.

-*-

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Zoro grits his teeth as his eye follows your shrinking form, watching it disappear into the dark horizon. Every freaking instinct tells him to follow you, but you've just pushed him away with everything you've got.

‘You don't matter.’

“Fuck!”

“Hey! What's going on?” Usopp places his hand on Zoro's shoulder, and he sighs, running a desperate hand through his hair.

“Nothing.” Then Zoro spots Kaya buttoning her jacket. “You leaving?”

“Yeah, I'm taking Kaya home, we have an early day tomorrow.” Usopp looks around and spots your disappearing form. “Where's she going?”

“What did you do?” Kaya interjects, hands already placed on her hips with a menacing scowl to back up her tiny, aggressive stance. Usopp’s brow raises at his girlfriend, and then he mimics her stance, his gaze also demanding answers Zoro doesn't really want to give. Zoro grits his teeth again, trapping a growl against them. He's so pissed, he can't even think straight.

“I didn't do anything!” He answers, exasperated. “Fuck! Usopp, can you give her a ride home? She just fucking left.”

Usopp nods, and Kaya jogs a little, trying to catch up with you before you gain more distance from them. So Zoro starts walking towards the club again before you come back, wanting to avoid another confrontation.

“Thanks.” He pats Usopp’s back and goes inside to say goodbye to his friends and grab his stuff.

This shit’s not over. You may think you've pushed him away with your performance, but all you did was reel him in more. Zoro had his suspicions, but now he's sure.

Someone is messing with you. And though his brain is telling him that someone is connected to Lucci and the store clerk, his heart is trying to push that possibility away. Because that fucker is dangerous, and Zoro's hoping against all hope that he didn't set his eyes on you.

Or Zoro’s going to have to murder someone.

Zoro's jaw keeps clenching as he drives towards the station. Even though he has the night off, he can't stay still. He's going to present his suspicions to Captain Mihawk and then forge a plan to protect you. Even if he has to drag your ass to the station and lock you in a cell.

He'll fucking do it.

Anything to keep you safe.

You're not going to spend another fucking day terrified of something you won't even tell him about.

‘You don't matter.”

Like shit, he doesn't. You can lie to him all you want.

He'll never give up on you.

-*-

It's barely after midnight when Usopp and Kaya drop you off at home. They have to get up early in the morning, so they couldn't party late, and you told them you weren’t feeling very well.

Neither of them pressed because they could clearly see the tears you were trying so hard to fight back. And you're sure they both know that you're crying because of Zoro, seeing as it was him who told them to give you a ride.

They just don't know that you were the asshole who brought the pain to both of you.

As Usopp’s car disappears down the driveway, you bolt the lock on the front door and place a chair against the doorknob, knowing deep down that it won't keep the stalker away, but still aiming for a sense of safety you know you won't achieve.

You do the same to your room, discard your club clothes, and finally look in the mirror to see the mark he left there. Your eyes widen as your trembling fingers run over the bruise: you can clearly identify the teeth marks, there's still caked blood around the wound and it's already turning a dark bruise colour.

You choke back sobs as you disinfect the wound and dress in your pyjamas. Outside, the weather seems to match your mood as you start to hear the gentle pitter-patter of the soft rain against the window.

You feel drained and exhausted. You were, once again, pushed into a corner. Never have you felt so trapped, helpless, and lonely. All the earlier fight, the will to try and find ways to get out of this predicament, left your body along with the hurtful words you delivered to Zoro.

‘You don’t matter.’

Gosh… he’s everything! But if it takes breaking you both apart just to save him, then you’ll do it over and over again.

Tomorrow is another day, and maybe after some serious consideration, you’ll know what to do.

As you curl up in your bed, trying to stay awake, but already knowing you'll succumb to exhaustion after having cried your heart out, you glance at your buzzing phone before closing your eyes.

Unknown: Such a good Kitten. My beautiful Princess. My love. Sleep. I'll watch over you.

-*-

You wake up with a jolt, feeling that something is amiss. You look around, your eyes darting to every shadow and every corner because your room feels wrong. Yet, you find everything in the same place. The shadows are still, and the room is quiet.

Your heart thrums against your chest, and you take a deep breath to try and calm down. It must've been a nightmare.

Patting your nightstand, you grab your phone. 01:15. It's still so early. Why did you wake up so suddenly?

And then you notice it. At first, it's just a red blur standing in your nightstand, but then, as you focus your wet eyes, they widen in fear, and you clasp your hand over your mouth.

There's a single red rose in the nightstand. He's been in your room.

He was near you.

A sob disturbs the quietness of the night, and almost immediately, it gets drowned out by a loud thunderclap. And then, you see something else.

Trembling fingers reach out, and you grab the small paper: it's a photo. And when your eyes adjust to the image and your brain processes it, you stay frozen in place, your breath held in suspension as more tears flood your eyes.

It’s a polaroid of you sleeping. Your brows are furrowed, and your cheek is wet, but what steals your breath is the huge, veiny, tanned hand that's gripping your hair in possession. The word ‘mine’ is scribbled in red across the picture in a distinct claim.

He was in your house.

He was in your room.

He touched you.

And you didn't even notice.

Taglist: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache @laidenbreecatchall

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|Chapter 11🔞|

#reader x roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x you #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x you #you x zoro #reader x zoro #zoro x reader #reader insert #one piece #op #modern day au #the meet-cute

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mononijikayu · 7 months ago

Text

you're my relief — ryomen sukuna.

GENRE: modern au; smut with minor plot;

WARNING/S: smut, romance, relationship, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, rough sex, p to v sex, fingering (female receiving), oral sex (female receiving), orgasm, profanity, pet names (babe, etc), characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, short cause i was just thinking about sukuna and wrote him like this;

WORD COUNT: 2.5k words.

NOTE: guys listen sukuna coming home and being overstimulated from interacting with people and work, i just??? yeah, that's the theme for today. like, can you imagine he's just finding his partner on bed trying to reach pleasure and he's just like oh okay i guess relief is here for both of us - anyway, that's just what i think. i hope you enjoy my nonsense anyway

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

HE DIDN'T KNOW WHAT YOU WERE DOING ON THE OTHER SIDE. All he wanted was your comfort after a long day. He wanted to be able to comfort you too after a long and challenging day.

Yet somehow, he could feel it. Something was off. The air in your room is heavy, the evening’s quietude broken only by the soft rustling of sheets as you adjust on the bed, entirely unaware of the tension building just beyond the door.

Ryomen Sukuna, for all his arrogance and unflinching demeanor, has spent the better part of the last week buried in tasks that, by their very nature, he despises. The weight of his responsibilities at the company and the lack of relief claw at his resolve, leaving him restless, frayed, and desperate. He'd been wanting to rest, to fuck. He wanted to feel good.

But this is isn't what he had been expecting.

He hadn’t meant to walk in on you. Not like this.

But when Ryomen Sukuna catches even a glimpse of you, your beautiful body laid bare, your fingers trembling as they disappear between your voluptuous thighs. They entered in and exited out over and over again, your moans echoing softly in lowly pants. You weren't getting off and it was frustrating you.

It had been a few days since you and Sukuna had last made love, and the distance had been palpable. Your schedules were chaotic, tangled in the demands of work and new projects that seemed to stretch every waking hour thin.

It wasn’t hard to feel the ache of longing between you both, the way your gazes lingered a little too long or how your touches seemed to convey unspoken apologies for the time spent apart.

Tonight, the air felt different. Heavy, charged with something unsaid yet undeniable. Sukuna returned home late, his broad shoulders taut with tension, only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight before him.

You.

Laid bare across the bed, your body twisting and turning as your fingers disappeared between your thighs, your lips parted in soft whimpers that filled the otherwise quiet room. The dim light bathed your skin in a warm glow, and the sheer vulnerability of the moment sent a surge of heat straight through him.

He froze in the doorway, his crimson eyes narrowing as he took in every detail—the way your back arched slightly, the soft sheen of sweat on your skin, the desperate little gasps that fell from your lips. It did things to him. Things he couldn’t put into words, but they burned low in his gut and tightened his chest all the same.

There was something inside him that just snaps. All at once, the exhaustion, frustration, and tightly coiled restraint unravel. It was that birth of pleasure effortlessly echoing through his belly. You don’t hear him at first, lost in your own world, but his voice, guttural and low, pierces the haze.

“I want you… so badly.”

Your breath hitches, your fingers stilling mid-motion as you whip your head toward the door. Your eyes widens. Your boyfriend, he's home. And he's standing there, the usual sharpness of his gaze softened by something raw, something desperate.

You barely have time to process before he strides over, the door clicking shut behind him with a quiet finality. His knee quickly pummels through the bed as he climbs onto it and leans forward to you. You could see his bulge forming below.

"Sukuna—" you begin, but the words die in your throat.

Your boyfriend moves closer to you onto the mattress, his larger hands gently replacing yours, cradling your trembling body with surprising tenderness.

“Tch, babe.” Sukuna’s deep voice finally cut through the room, dark and dripping with hunger. “Is this what you doin' today?”

Your eyes snapped open, a mix of shock and embarrassment flashing across your face as you stilled. But Sukuna was already moving, stalking toward you with the predatory grace of a man who knew exactly what he wanted.

“No, don’t stop.” he growled, his lips curling into a wicked smirk as he knelt on the edge of the bed. His hand reached out, capturing your wrist and guiding your fingers back where they had been. “I want to see you fall apart. Don’t hold back now, not when you’re like this.”

His gaze burned into yours, molten and unrelenting, as he leaned down to press a kiss against your trembling thigh. “Missed this, didn’t you?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver up your spine. “Missed me?”

You could only nod, your breath hitching as his hands began to roam, his touch firm yet gentle, possessive yet reverent. Sukuna’s smirk deepened, his crimson eyes never leaving yours.

“You have no idea, babe.” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear as his lips trail fire down your neck. His touch is reverent yet urgent, as though grounding himself in the feeling of you. “No idea what you’re doing to me right now.”

And just like that, Ryomen Sukuna unravels completely, consumed by the need to feel you, to lose himself in the one thing he knows will put him back together.

Sukuna’s weight presses against you, a delicious combination of strength and heat that sets your nerves alight. His pleasure ridden crimson eyes drink you in, his lips curling into that sinful smirk that’s equal parts predatory and adoring.

Sukuna’s lips trail up your thigh, his kisses slow and deliberate, the heat of his breath teasing your sensitive skin. His hands roam your body with a confidence that leaves you trembling, every stroke of his fingers igniting a fire that burns through you.

"You're so damn beautiful like this." he murmurs against your skin, his voice deep and rough, laced with unrestrained hunger. His sharp teeth nip at the tender flesh of your inner thigh, drawing a gasp from your lips.

“Could’ve just called for me. I would’ve dropped everything.”

His words make your cheeks flush, but you’re too lost in the moment to feel shy anymore. Sukuna presses himself between your legs, his tongue darting out to trace over the spot where your fingers had been moments ago. The sensation is electric, your back arching as a moan escapes your lips.

"Keep those hands right there, babe." he orders, his crimson eyes glinting with mischief as he glances up at you. "I want you to feel exactly how good I make you."

You do as he says, your hands gripping the sheets beside you as he works his tongue against you, slow and thorough. The pressure of his mouth, the way he alternates between teasing and taking what he wants, it’s all too much and not enough all at once.

"'kuna." you gasp, your hips bucking slightly against his mouth, but he holds you in place with a firm grip. His smirk is smug as he looks up at you, his chin glistening with your slick.

"That's it, babe." he growls, his voice vibrating against you as he licks and kisses with a devastating precision. "Let me hear you. Let me know how much you missed this."

You’re trembling beneath him, your body teetering on the edge, when he suddenly pulls back, leaving you gasping for more. Before you can protest, he takes the initiative.

Ryomen Sukuna climbs over you, his powerful frame caging you in as he captures your lips in a searing kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, the intimacy of it sending another wave of heat through you. It takes a while before you both part. He just takes his time, making out with you and taking your breathe to boot.

You groaned against his lips as his fingers trace the base of your breasts and then your nipples, feeling the sensitivity of your body succumb to him. He could all but grin against each and every pull of your lips.

“You don’t know how long I’ve needed this." he murmurs, his voice gravelly, resonating deep in your core. His fingers trace along the curve of your hip, slow and deliberate, igniting a fire with every touch. “How long I’ve needed you like this—bare, needy, ready for me.”

His words make you shiver, your body arching into him instinctively. Sukuna lets out a low growl, his hand sliding down your thigh to hook it over his hip, pulling you impossibly closer. Almost immediately, he had taken your breath away.

The tension in him is palpable, the weeks of overstimulation and repressed desire evident in the way his breathing quickens, the way his fingers tremble slightly as they trail over your skin.

His mouth is everywhere—on your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. He was leaving a trail of kisses and nips that make your breath hitch and your skin red with pleasure.

“So soft." he mutters against your skin, his voice a reverent whisper before it dips into something darker. “So perfect.”

When he finally captures your lips again, the kiss is deeper, hungrier, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that leaves you dizzy. He presses his body into yours.

The heat of him searing even through the thin fabric separating you. His hand slips between your legs, his fingers grazing over you with a teasing lightness that has you gasping his name.

“Already so wet for me, babe.” Sukuna growls, his lips curling into a smug grin as he watches your reaction. “You like this, don’t you? Being completely at my mercy.”

You can barely nod, your words caught in your throat as he presses harder, his movements precise and calculated. His other hand pins your wrists above your head, his sheer dominance sending a wave of heat through you.

“I want to hear you.” he demands, his voice dropping an octave. “Don’t hold back from me. I want to know every little sound I pull from you.”

Your moan spills from your lips before you can stop it, and Sukuna’s smirk deepens, his control slipping as his own need overtakes him. He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers.

“That’s it. Give it all to me. Let me drown in you.”

And then he’s everywhere, his hands, his mouth, his presence overwhelming in the most intoxicating way. Sukuna isn’t just taking; he’s devouring, his movements precise yet desperate, his need for you breaking him down into something raw, something unguarded.

And when he finally embraces the whole of you, it’s not just physical—it’s a surrender, a merging of every pent-up emotion and desire he’s been holding back. In that moment, Ryomen Sukuna is entirely yours, and you are entirely his.

But you wanted more and more.

You wanted to be full of him.

You wanted to be overwhelmed by him.

“'kuna.” you whisper, barely audible, but it’s enough.

The sound of his name spilling from your lips is like a match striking against dry tinder, igniting something uncontrollable within Ryomen Sukuna.

He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t hold back. In a blur of motion, he’s on you, pressing you down into the mattress with a growl that vibrates through your very core.

“You feel so good, babe. So so good.” he snarls, his lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue.

It was as if he needs to devour every part of you to keep himself from unraveling completely. His calloused hands are everywhere—gripping your thighs, pinning your wrists, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

And then he’s there, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance, thick and unrelenting. You gasp, your body arching instinctively as Sukuna pushes forward in one fluid, devastating motion, filling you completely.

The stretch is overwhelming, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that has you crying out his name. Sukuna groans, deep and guttural, his head falling to the crook of your neck as he stills for a moment, savoring the way your body clenches around him.

“So tight, babe.” he rasps, his voice dripping with raw desire. “You’re perfect. Made for me.”

He doesn’t give you much time to adjust, his movements swift and unrelenting as he begins to thrust into you, each stroke hitting deeper than the last.

His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he takes what he’s been craving for so long. The sounds of skin against skin, his ragged breathing, and your breathless moans fill the room, a symphony of raw, unfiltered passion.

“'kuna—” you gasp again, your voice breaking as he angles his hips just right, dragging a cry from your throat that only spurs him on.

His lips find your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he growls. “Say it again.”

“Sukuna!”

He groans, the sound reverberating through you as he picks up his pace, each thrust harder, deeper, more desperate. He’s utterly consumed by you. He always will be.

All of his usual composure, all his confidence, all that snark, it was completely shattered as he chases his release. Everything about him is surrendered to you. As his body moving against yours like he’s trying to claim every part of you. And you were taking everything of him too.

“You’re mine, babe.” he growls, his voice rough and possessive, his hand sliding up to cradle your jaw, forcing your gaze to meet his. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” you manage between gasps, your body trembling as the pleasure builds to an almost unbearable peak. “Always yours.”

And with that, Sukuna loses himself in you like a wild animal chasing his prey. His thrusts growing erratic as he pulls you over the edge with him, the two of you shattering together in a moment of raw, unrelenting passion.

As you scratch his back with a loud moan, he doesn’t slow down, even as the waves of sensual echoes crash over both of you. He rides you through the aftershocks of your slick, unadulterated pleasure as you moan, tears pouring from the edges of your eyes.

As soon as his fingers wipe away your tears, the onslaught continues. His body relentless, his growls low and feral as he prolongs the high for as long as he can. The drool on your lips pouring out as much as your eyes echoing stars of pleasure in a hazy.

"'kuna, so....so good!"

“Look at you, babe.” he murmurs, his voice a mix of arrogance and adoration as his hands tighten on your hips. “Falling apart on me so perfectly.”

You can only whimper in response, your body trembling beneath him as he finally begins to slow, his thrusts becoming deeper, more deliberate.

Each stroke draws a shiver from you, the lingering sensitivity of your body no match for the way he moves. It was slow, yet unrelenting, as though savoring every second he’s inside you.

His forehead presses against yours, a rare intimacy in the midst of his primal hunger. His crimson eyes, half-lidded and heavy with desire, lock onto yours, holding you captive in their intensity.

“You feel too good, hgh....” Sukuna rasps, his voice thick with strain as his hips grind against yours, drawing out every ounce of pleasure he can. “Too perfect.”

He doesn’t stop, can’t stop. Not when he’s this close. You feel the way his body tenses, his breathing growing more ragged as his movements grow erratic.

His hands grip your hips tighter, anchoring you beneath him as his pace falters, his control slipping with each passing moment. The slapping of skin was the only melody harmonizing with the moaning coming from you two. Everything felt too good, too all in-compassing for you to care about anything else.

“S-So close, babe.” he groans, his voice breaking into something raw and guttural as his body finally gives in.

He buries himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he spills into you, the warmth of him flooding your core. The sensation is overwhelming, his release trailing down your thighs, a tangible reminder of his possession.

He lets out a low, shuddering breath, his forehead still pressed to yours, his body trembling as he comes down from his high. His hands relax their grip, one sliding up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he exhales deeply.

“You’re my pretty babe, aren't you, hm?” Sukuna murmurs again, softer this time, his voice tinged with satisfaction and something almost vulnerable. He lingers inside you, unwilling to let go just yet, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

The room is quiet save for the sound of your mingled breathing, his body still heavy against yours as he finally begins to move, careful and gentle.

It was easing you both from the intensity of the moment. His touch remains firm yet tender, a stark contrast to the ferocity with which he claimed you moments ago.

And though his movements have slowed, his eyes remain locked on yours, still burning with a hunger that promises this is far from over.

“You drive me insane.” Sukuna admits, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss far gentler than you expected. “Do you even know what you’ve done to me? How you consume me, hm?”

His hand slides down to rest on your abdomen, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin as he lets out a low, satisfied sigh. The weight of him, the heat of his body, feels grounding, as if he’s anchoring himself in your presence.

“You’re everything, babe.” he says, his tone softer now, though no less intense. “Everything I need, everything I’ll ever want.”

For a moment, the room is filled with nothing but the sound of your breathing, his forehead still pressed to yours, his body still intertwined with yours. Sukuna’s lips curl into a faint smirk as he lifts his head to look at you, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek.

“You’re mine.” he repeats, his voice steady, possessive, but laced with something deeper—something almost tender. “Always mine.”

And though he’s still buried inside you, still radiating that overwhelming dominance, there’s a softness in the way he cups your face, a vulnerability he only ever shows to you.

“You okay?” he asks, surprising you with the sudden shift in tone. His crimson eyes search yours, his thumb brushing your cheek with an uncharacteristic gentleness.

“I’m okay, 'kuna.” you whisper, your voice hoarse but steady. "I feel happy. Missed you, you know?"

"Missed you too, babe."

Silence settles between the two of you, a comforting stillness broken only by the sound of your shared breathing. Sukuna, for all his sharp edges and domineering presence, softens in this moment.

He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, pressing warm, lingering kisses against your damp skin. The heat of his breath and the gentleness of his lips send a shiver down your spine.

He doesn’t speak, just holds you closer, savoring the way your bodies fit together so perfectly. He knows he should take a day off tomorrow. You deserve that.

He’s seen the way your eyes light up when he’s fully present, how much you cherish those rare moments of closeness beyond the physical. He knows he hasn’t given you enough of that, and it tugs at something deep within him.

You deserve better, he thinks. Better than just this, better than the fleeting moments he steals with you. He owes you tenderness, affection, the kind of care that lingers long after the passion fades.

But before he can say anything, your voice cuts through the quiet, soft and hesitant.

“Want more of you, ‘kuna.” you mutter, your voice muffled against his chest, shy and unsure.

His breath catches, and for a moment, the world seems to still. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly as he processes your words.

A smirk starts to curl at the corner of his lips, but there’s something deeper in his gaze now—something softer, something that makes his chest ache in a way he isn’t used to.

“More of me, huh?” he teases, his voice low and rough, though there’s no mistaking the warmth that laces his words. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips before murmuring. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

You avert your eyes, cheeks flushing, but you don’t deny it. Sukuna chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates against your skin.

“You’re lucky I don’t mind, babe.” he says, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your flushed skin. “Because if you want more of me, you’ll have it.”

You giggled. "Well, I already have all of you from the beginning, don't you think?"

He snickers. "You're such a sly cat, aren't you?"

"Hm, but yours too."

His lips find yours again, slow and deliberate, as if to prove his point. And as his hands begin to roam, his movements unhurried and deliberate this time, he silently vows to give you everything you need—not just tonight, but always.

Because you weren't just his relief. You were his everything. And you will always deserve everything, even all of him. Because that's how love is. Love is the relief in different forms that makes life best.

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mafuyussweater · 8 months ago

Text

My Favorite Bingqiu (Bingyuan) fics

Be sure to read tags!

Leave kudos and comments for the authors!

Enjoy ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ (to be added to as a read more)

lowly disciple's self insert fanfic system by:

Allpiesforourown

Mature • canon divergence

Airplane and Cucumber-bro figure out they are transmigrators earlier on. Shen Qingqius disciples are STICKY. Luo Binghe writes self insert fanfic about his Shizun.

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Sweet Dreams Are Made of This by: Prudabaga

Explicit • Canon Divergence (fix-it?)

Shen Qingqiu can't help that his dreams all seem to revolve around sleeping with the protagonist. It doesn't make him gay. He hardly has a choice even if he really does enjoy them.. anyone would!

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Tie Up the Broken Threads of That Old Dream by: Ehann

Mature • Canon Divergence (fix-it)

Shen Qingqiu self detonates and causes the system to go haywire. He wakes up in the past with no system at all and finds Luo Binghe fresh out of the Abyss. He is determined to make things right this time.

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Remnants of Gold by: Wemmye

Teen+ • Canon Divergence? (No Transmigrators)

Su Xiyan still takes the poison but somehow she manages to survive. Her and Binghe grow up as farmers and she helps her son hide his demon side with a jade pendant. She really doesn't trust cultivators but Shen Yuan, one of the two peak lords of Qing Jings peak, convinces her to let Luo Binghe learn cultivation from him.

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Tarnished Gold by: Prim_The_Amazing

Mature • Canon Divergence (in a major way)

Shen Yuan transmigrates into the body of Gongyi Xiao and meets a post Abyss Luo Bingge who wants to take his place as Head Disciple.

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The Divide Between Autumn and Spring by: sareyen

Mature • AU

Shen Yuan transmigrates into a disciple of Qing Jing who shares his same name. He is out of his depth when he realizes this body has a damaged core and also that he is well before canon PIDW with all of the future peak lords being just young teens! He manages to make lots of friends, becomes a beloved head disciple, and saves a few people too.

(This is angsty y'all but oml this is a MASTERPIECE -with a happy end dw)

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If Marriage Was an Olympic Sport by: anatheme

Explicit • Wife Plot (set during the Abyss arc)

Shen Qingqiu accidentally sets of a "wife hunt" that requires 12 participants to hunt down the "wife". He has from sunrise to sunset to run for his life to avoid being forced into marriage.

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safe and stranded by: anatheme

Mature• Modern era-ish (fix-it)

Shen Qingqiu self detonation causes the system to glitch and it sends him (and Binghe) to his old life and he has 3 days to experience living in the modern world again before he will be sent back to his body that was fall towards his death.

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picture you by: wnter_autumn

Explicit • Modern Au

Shen Yuan sleeps with his friend Luo Binghe and freaks out about it because he is straight... right?

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dreaming you the same sun in a different place by: JRaylin441

Explicit • Reverse Transmigration

Shen Qingqiu disappears and Luo Binghe gets a notification from the System offering a side quest called In Another Life that requires him to find his husband in his original body in the modern world. Unfortunately his husband has no memory of living in PIDW!

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Stealing Sun From the Flowers by: CherrieBabie

Explicit • Canon Divergence

Shen Yuan wakes up in his mushroom body with no memory of ever being Shen Qingqiu and no access to a system so he thinks he lucked out! Unfortunately as he is roaming around as a rogue cultivator he gets captured in the Huan Hua territory and meets Luo Binghe himself who is really upset that this guy looks really similar to his dead Shizun.

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Being a 30-Year-Old Virgin Made Shen Yuan a Wizard! By: stormsonjupiter

Explicit • Cherry Magic Au

The Cherry Magic we all love but make it Bingyuan!

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if you don't have your own boyfriend, rented is fine by: nyoomerr

Mature • Modern Au

Luo Bingge searches for his own nice Shizun and ends up in the modern world with Shen Yuan who is kind of rude and only looks a little bit like Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Yuan thinks Bingge is a poor cosplayer and asks to hire him as his pretend boyfriend to show appreciation for the real authentic cosplay.. that's all!

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Life is (not) a Hallmark Movie by: mellicindi

Teen+ • Modern Au

Shen Yuan watches this one ASMR cooking channel and finds the video needing some improvements but the guys voice is really really nice! Then he ends up at his friend Shang Qingyuan apartment and sees a familiar countertop...

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Tell Me Your Heart Doesn't Race for a Hurricane or a Burning Building by: Bluethursday

Explicit • Modern (stalker Au)

Shen Yuan opens his door to a handsome stranger who says "Hi, are you Shen Yuan? I'm Luo Binghe, your new live-in caretaker"

☆彡

Mightier than Waves by: bedesbummie

Explicit • Modern Au (kinda stalker ish)

Shen Yuan goes to pick up his sisters backpack from the rec center and when no one seems to be coming to help him, he searches for an employee and runs into shirtless and overly handsome Luo Binghe. After that day he can't help but find himself back at the rec center to get another glimpse of Binghe. Under the guise of wanting to improve his physical health.

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a thousand jars by:tagteamme

Explicit • Post Canon

Shen Qinghua finds himself feeling incredibly jealous. There is porn. That's the fic (it's so good)

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Starstruck by: Camorra

Explicit • Modern Au (musicians)

Shen Yuan, who is known for making videos playing bass in accompaniment to Luo Binghe's songs, gets a message from someone saying they could get him in touch with famous musician Luo Binghe. At first he doesn't believe it but then he receives a photo of his bandmates taking a selfie and decides to not let this opportunity slip by.

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Halasana by: The Feels Whale (miscella)

Explicit • Modern Au (yoga)

Luo Binghe (known slut) makes a bet with his coworker Sha Hualing that he will stop sleeping with his hot clients to prove he doesn't /need/ sex. And then it all goes to shit when Shen Yuan comes waltzing in for their one-on-one session.

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# KissingTheHomiesGoodnight by: knothim

Explicit • Modern Au

Shen Yuans "no homo" mental gymnastics his way into messing around with Luo Binghe using the dumbest logic only he could come up with.

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A Little Bit To The Left by: miixz

Teen+ • Canon Divergence

A system error sends Shen Yuan to transmigrate into a random canon fodder Bai Zhan Peak disciple named Shi Yuan instead of Shen Qingqiu.

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We Are Not Wise by: Boomchick, Suzoomie

Teen+ • Canon Divergence (Utena inspired soul swords)

Shen Yuan transmigrates into a version of PIDW where cultivators form swords made of their very own souls. He is just a child when he runs into the middle of Shen Qingqiu battling a demonic creature and in order to protect them both Shen Qingqiu makes very horrible/controversial decision to pull Shen Yuans sword out of his body.

This is how Shen Yuan finds himself dragged to Qing Jing peak in order to keep his silence.

☆彡

when the glass shatters (which me do you see?) by: Quirmzi

Gen • Post Canon (de-aging)

Shen Qingqiu encounters trouble on a night hunt and ends up back in his (Shen Yuans!!) body at 6 years old. He has no idea who anyone is or why they can't get him his parents but thankfully at least Shang Qinghua understands him.

(All the peak lords (except one) gushes over how cute Shen Yuan is)

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A Transmigrator and a Time Traveler Walk Into the Bamboo House by: VeryCharismaticDragon

Teen+ • Time Travel (fix-it)

Over a year after Shen Qingqius death, Luo Binghe seeks out Shang Qinghua for another way to bring back the love of his life. All he needs to do is find a special mirror that brings you to the day you first met your soulmate. When he wakes up at 14 he is a bit confused but as more pieces of the puzzle are revealed, he learns the love of his life is way more complex than he ever expected.

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The Moon's Beloved Shadow by: mofumofu

Explicit • Canon Divergence

There is a well kept secret between the peak lords on Cang Qiong mountain. Two Shens run Qing Jing peak but only one has ever been seen outside of their bamboo house. Shen Yuan is very confused to wake up in the body of the Shen Twin who was never talked about in PIDW. With no knowledge of the past, he navigates an overly protective, doting Shen Jiu.

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Uprooted by: lethean

Mature • Canon Divergence

This world of PIDW is very different from the one Shen Yuan knew. He wakes up in the body of a character he can't remember but soon learns it's a minor villain that was possibly framed and woefully misunderstood. He just barely escapes an early death and finds himself being saved by none other than Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan themselves.

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Notes on the changing of a narrative by: HanaSheralHaminail

Explicit • Canon Divergence

The system demands Shen Qingqiu must fatally wound Luo Binghe before pushing him into the Abyss. The consequences for not complying are fatale. At least he can try and help Luo Binghe make it through with a little more knowledge on just what dangers he will encounter and hope it doesn't hurt too much.

☆彡

i just wanna be your shadow by: bibliomaniac

Explicit • Modern Au (inspired by the manhua "I Want To Be A Big Baddie")

Luo Binghe can read people's thoughts which means he doesn't trust most people. It used to be just his mom who he trusted but since arriving at the Shen estate, he met an interesting boy who was supposed to be Shen Qingqiu but his thoughts (and system?) reveal he is actually a boy named Shen Yuan who seems to be forced into becoming Luo Binghe's biggest bully.

(This is a freak4freak bingqiu! They are creepy and obsessed with each other fr. Shen Yuan likes seeing people in pain even though he feels disgusted with himself about it and Luo Binghe is an incurable M)

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a dream revealed by: waitineedaname

Teen+ • Post-Canon (series)

Luo Binghe doesn't quite trust Shang Qinghua so he decides to observe how he acts in his dreams. He learns more about his Martial Uncle and coincidentally his Shizun than he thought he would.

☆彡

fall for your reflection (drown in a dream) by: nex_et_nox

Explicit • Canon Divergence

During his time post abyss incident, Shen Qingqiu gets attacked by a demonic plant that captures its victims in a dream of their perfect world; his revolves around Luo Binghe.

[mind the tags, it gets dark but ends happily]

☆彡

To Be of One Mind by: kakanoo

Teen+ • Canon Divergence

During a mission as a disciple, Luo Binghe gets cursed with the ability to read the mind of Shen Qingqiu but only when they touch. It doesn't change much for the future but it does fix things in the end.

☆彡

#mxtx svsss #svsss fic #svsss #svsss fanfiction #svsss fic rec #luo binghe #bingqui #bingyuan #luo bingge #luo bingmei #shen yuan #shen qingqiu

192 notes · View notes

crowlyne · 1 year ago

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Cant stop thinking about emperor sy au...

Thanks to sy's modern knowledge of historical palace dramas and encyclopedic knowledge of pidw along with him having max stats on luck and charisma he survived the succession war (and somehow becomes an emperor? He is still confused on how he got it. Its not that he cut down his fellow princes nor did he scheme to get the emperor position but hes the only legitimate option left). SY doesnt have any experience on ruling kingdoms however (or anything really) but thankfully SY got an economics degree in his past life so hes not a fish out of the water.

Although the imperial rule doesn't affect the cultivation world directly, they're still impacted in the form of trade and manpower. The power to empower and cripple sects is in his hands. Ever since SY declaring SJ as his long lost brother CQM received a lot of lucrative trade. SQH is appreciative but hello?? He didnt write any long lost family members on SJ! So he got curious and begged the sect leader to send him instead of SJ to meet the emperor for trade discussion, and thats how he met his fellow transmigrator.

SY made him cough up all of his authorial knowledge and found out about OPM and HHP, although its already too late to save SXY as LBH has been born. Needless to say, HHP's coffers are running thin these days. With them having less money their manpower and support from noble families are slowly diminishing, the maintenance and security of the seals fell to disrepair, and SY (in disguise) with SQH's cultivation expertise managed to free TLJ. A few brief expositions later, TLJ and ZZL thanked both of them and slipped back go the demon realm. News of their freedom got out and HHP is scrutinized and support dropped even further than before.

SY did manage to visit QJP regularly to visit his brother and consequently, meeting LBH a number of times (making LBH absolutely smitten with him and considering joining the nonexistent imperial harem). With SJ more assured in his position (also maybe SY's promise of him always having a place in the palace and his family and less people being hostile towards him had an impact) SJ had less frustrations and projections to subject LBH and his students to. He still doesnt like the beast but his stupid brother (an emperor!) doted on him like a favored child so he tried his best to ignore him instead.

Things were going well until the immortal conference where instead of SQH orchestrating the attack, its TLJ and ZZL trying to get a hit on HHP's OPM and dragging LBH back to demon realm kicking and screaming. LBH is presumed dead.

SY found out of course but he didnt know the details (SJ remains tight lipped and insists that hes dead and thats all he should know) and thought LBH fell into the abyss and SJ pushed him like the original plot and grew depressed of thinking of his brother that he grew fond of turn into human stick. Also considering LBH's going to merge the realms and conquer the human kingdoms under one rule he might not have long either, he is, after all, a human male which by the novel's rules itself, a cannon fodder.

Years passed and the demon army, under the demon emperor LBH, conquered other human kingdoms and eventually showed up on SY's kingdom's doorstep but not for the reason SY's thinking of.

SY found himself still alive (!!!) and married (???) with LBH for alliance. CQM stays unmolested and unburned for years to come. SJ, however, remains a sour pickle with this whole arrangement, but at least hes left in peace.

Bonus :

LBH loves to roleplay as a concubine whenever he dropped by SY's palace. When SY visited the demon realm however, LBH loves to show him off that the demons thought of him as a concubine instead (much to SY's embarassment)

#svsss au #bingqiu #emperor shen yuan au #shen yuan #shen jiu #good lord this is long but ive thought of this for a long time

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fangirlingpuggle · 2 years ago

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Half asleep very very dumb one piece fic prompt where canon straw hats somehow end up in a modern AU waking up in their counterparts bodies and are so confused.

Luffy wakes up somewhere he doesn't recognize doesn't have his devil fruit powers and then runs into Sabo and Ace, while Luffy is freaking out suddenly Crocodile shows up, Luffy finding out Crocodile is his dad. Luffy is acting off and of course Sabo and Ace are in overprotective brother mode and Crocodile is in overprotective dad mode and already calling their doctor, who he has on speed dial because Sabo, Ace and Luffy are agents of chaos and it is not the first time there has been a panicked call to the doctors.

Although Kureha hasn't picked up because she's already got the freaking out call from Hiriluk who is freaking out because Chopper is freaking out because Chopper has not only woken up with his dad alive but is human, Kureha is to busy dealing with the pair of crying panicking messes to answer her phone for a while, and has a lot of missed form calls not just from Crocodile.

Mihawk is also calling haven come home to a freaking out Perona and Zoro, and for some reason Zoro is asking why Perona isn't floating. Her can only assume that a hit to the head for sparring finally got through Zoro's thick skull.

Nami and Usopp are also in major freak outs having woken up to dead parents now alive. Brook more the freak out that he is now alive as well as Yorki also being alive.

Sanji may be freaking out worst as he woke up to see all his siblings and went straight to panic attack, only to cause almost all his siblings into one as well, these Vinsmokes have been raised by Sora and Zeff after Judge got 0 custody rights in the divorce and all very VERY overprotective siblings Sanji has literally had to threaten all of them and get his mom to threaten all of them to be able to go out on a date with Zoro without at least one sibling hanging around as a shadow.

Robin and Franky have a different but still major freak out waking up together, and then proceed to freak out more when seeing missed calls from Tom and Saul.

Bonus: Sabo suggests calling Dragon to help out because he has been trying to parent trap their dad and Luffy's other dad who is like his mentor and he's been trying to get them, back together for years. Ace deeply deeply disagrees thinking their dad can do way better. Crocodile is currently 110% done still trying to call Kureha and also try and convince Luffy that no he is not made of rubber.

#one piece #au #fic prompt #straw hats #crocodad #dadodile #canon meeting modern au #monkey d. luffy #crocodile #sabo #portgas d ace #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #zosan #vinsmoke siblings #chopper #humor #this is very very dumb

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wangxianficfinder · 3 months ago

Text

Fic Finder

Apr 12th

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1. I'm searching for a fic where WWX got punished with zidian by Yu Ziyuan. The punishment was so severe that he wasn't able to cultivate anymore. He became permanently disabled.

He became a sort of medical assistant and he met the wen siblings too. They helped him a little with his recovery

FOUND? Scars of Lightning by The_peregrine_falcon (T, 6k, YZY & WWX, WWX & WRH, WangXian, YZY’s A+ Parenting, Canon Divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Wen WWX, zidian, YZY is a bitch, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Major Character Injury, Heavy Angst, Lotus Pier, Nightless City, Young WWX, Muteness, Hurt kind of comfort)

FOUND? A Star Fell by CordialCoroner (CordialCrow) (M, 78k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, No Golden Core Transfer, POV Multiple, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Not JC Friendly, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Slow Burn, Sunshot Campaign, WWX becomes a medic, Mutual Pining)

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2. Hi! I'm looking for a ghost marriage fic. I can't remember if it was discussed before or after wwx's resurrection. LWJ marries WWX in a ghost marriage with his family's approval. JC even gave WWX's red ribbon to them as part of the ceremony. LWJ is already taking care of A-Yuan at this time. Thank uuu!! @seunghos-yinger

FOUND? Ghost Wedding by nirejseki (G, 4k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Ghost wedding, Introspection, Crack Treated Seriously, mostly seriously anyway, Good Uncle LQR)

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3. Hello! I'm looking for a wangxian fic that was on Ao3 and I can't find anywhere. It was NSFW and started because Lan Xi Chen had a pillow with the words 'happiness is 16 hands between my legs' (I'm not sure if 16 is the right number) and wwx was like 'that's impossible' and then sexy shenanigans ensued. It was very short. Thank you!

FOUND? covered by ScarlettStorm (E, 9k, WangXian, Modern AU, vaguely north american setting, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, doofuses to lovers, Shenanigans, the excruciating experience of choreographing a hypothetical hand-based orgy with your crush, the similarly excruciating experience of knowing you got together, because of a horrible novelty pillow, Frottage, Groping, Hand Jobs, set entirely on one (1) single couch, it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a WWX in the process of fucking around, must then immediately find out, Kissing, switch rights)

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4. There is Fic post canon. Wwx cleans jingshi . Lwj yells get lost or get out something like that because he thought wwx was gonna find the letters he wrote during the16 years. He finds wwx apologizes and shows the letter. Can someone give me the title please

I asked for #4. Let me give more details if it helps. Please help me find the fic..

Lan wangji finds Wei wuxian going through stuff in the Jingshi. He becomes nervous and asks what wwx was doing. Wwx replies that he was cleaning, something along that line. Lwj replies coldly that he does need help and says something like Get out. Wwx leaves Jingshi without shoes or outer robe, not even his flute. He doesn't leave cloud recesses. He sits near a Pond or lake for hours in cold thinking Lwj asked him to leave Gusu. LWJ pánics,I think sizhui is involved. I'm not sure. He somehow finds Wwx and apologizes. Wwx says he doesn't wanna leave. Lwj takes him to Jingshi and shows him te letters he wrote when wwx was dead. He explains he panicked wwx was gonna see this and blurted out, shows the letters and they make up.

FOUND! 🔒 Read You Like a Book by 2501987 (G, 2k, WangXian, Arguing, Fluff and Angst, Fights, Insecurity, Married Life, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Romantic Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Protective LWJ, Sad WWX)

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5. Hello everyone. A while back, I found a story on ao3, skipped to the last chapter because I wanted to know how it ended before reading it, and left the tab open. But due to storage issues, I deleted my open tabs and lost the story.What I remember from the tags, it was something involving ghosts and maybe possession. I know that probably in the last chapter, LanZhan is taking care of WeiYing, who apparently had been possessed or something. LanXichen would come visit them and LZ was upset with him @smithckoo

NOT FOUND! Thicker Than Water by athena_crikey (M, 67k, WangXian, SongXiao, XiYao, NieLan, Modern with Magic, alternate cultivation, Mediums, Monsters, Ghosts, Trauma, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Case Fic, periperheral police investigations) *option for #5 rather, this is the only multi chapter fic where wei ying was a medium (meaning he was getting possessed on purpose) does the requester remember if it was a possession on purpose or via a curse/demon?

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6. There's this really funny fic where Lan Wangji finds y/n fanfiction of the Yilling Patriarch. In it, his mom sells him to Wei Wuxian to fuel her medicinal herb addiction.

FOUND? Teardrops On My Guqin by xXxWangx1anxXx by Cl3v3rG1rl (G, <1k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, Modern, YLLZ WWX, Crack, Age Difference)

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7. A) Hi! does anyone know a mdzs fic where madam yu recives a letter that WWX is in Yilling and instead of telling JFM she sends it to LQR? I remember one line about how YZY couldn't bring herself to murder a child, and at the end JFM doesn't notice WWX at a discussion conference while LQR wears a white mourning sash.

B) Hi! I'm looking for a meng yao and nie hauisang time travel fic... they travel to pre-cloud recess era and the first thing huaisang does upon seeing meng yao is order him beaten. @personontheswing

7A)

FOUND! many valuable things by Stratisphyre (G, 2k, Canon Divergence, Character Study, Canonical Character Death, implied background LQR/CSSR/WCZ, JFM Doesn't Adopt WWX, One-Sided JFM/CSSR)

7B)

FOUND? Pierced through the heart, but never killed by SunflowerSupreme (M, 3k, JGY & NHS, Fix-It of Sorts, Time Travel Fix-It, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Implied/Referenced Suicide, POV JGY, POV NHS, Fix-It, Hopeful Ending, Tired JGY)

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8. Hello!

I'm looking for a fic where LWJ is several years younger than WWX. They meet for the first time when Child Wanji kneels in front of his mom's house waiting for her to open the door. At first glance, wwx thinks little Wanji looks like a deity and becomes protective of him. He loans his winter coat to the child and continues to do so in the following days... Most of the characters become similarly smitten with lil wanji at the first meeting itself even madam yu.... I forgot to bookmark the fic once I read it. pls help me find it. thank you in advance

did #8 have a part where child!LWJ was hiding in Yiling during/near sunshot era, and he was at some point found by the Wens and got assaulted? And did it have a separate short fic with dimension travel where child!LWJ ended up to canon-ish sunshot era where iirc there was a golden core reveal.

FOUND? Cyclone by friedchickenlord (T, 160k, WangXian, Underage Sex, Canon Divergence, Age Difference, young LWJ, Fluff and Humor, Puppy Love, Slow Burn, becauze LWJ is still a literal baby, Hurt/Comfort, Cute LWJ, soft Jiang family, death WC, appearance of angry chicken, Not Everyone Dies, Angst, mention of rape, hurt free only until chapter 13 after that please tread with caution, LWJ is still spoiled tho, LWJ centric, SECOM LXC, I am dumb and can't scheme or flatters other so I only bullshit JGY)

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9. Hello there. I'm looking for a Modern AU where Wei Wuxian was a reporter or journalist and he adopted A-Yuan because his parents died during a disaster or something. He was on a train home and ran into Mo Xuanyu (and these two look alike). There was an accident and Wei Wuxian was in a coma but was mistaken for Mo Xuanyu. He wakes up and find out that people think he's dead, do he goes to find them and finds out that Lan Zhan (who was his friend) had adopted A-Yuan. Please help me find it

FOUND? These Things Stay the Same by notevenyou (E, 30k, wangxian, Modern, Kid Fic, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, Injury, Natural Disasters, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hospitalization, Accidents)

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10. Hello so I never really read it but I saw the summary of it so here's how it goes it's something like not reincarnation but wwx gets sent into the modern era where he is in school and he used demonic cultivation in the school something like that I think he got found by jyl or something I don't know I do know that he survived high school with demonic cultivation or some other title that says something about something something with demonic cultivation for like surviving high school didn't want to cultivation I just want to read that pic I never read it but I want to read it now because I just thought of it and sound interesting @constancebloodstone

FOUND? 🔒I Got Isekai'd into a High School Romance But I Used to Be the Founder of Demonic Cultivation! by LizzyPanic (T, 20k, WangXian, Minor XuanLi, Canon Divergence, Modern AU, Reverse Isekai and Transmigration, High School, wwx is a cultivator, no one else is, Pining, Flirting, attempts at humor, gender nonconforming nhs, First Kiss, Good Uncle LQR, Light Angst)

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11. Hey, so i have read a few wangxian fanfics, and I found one my fav in one of your rec, and now I wanted to read again but I think it's lost, i can't find it.

The story is like an arranged marriage between lwj and wwx, there's still war, it's a part of a series and also its A/B/O. They later got married and find out they have feelings for each other, they had twins if i remember correctly. But a specific fic in the series contains jiang yanli goes to gusu and met wwx and sees him being so happy with his husband and kids while she was carrying jin ling. I remembered that madam yu confront wwx about being a son of a servant that he doesn't deserve to be dressed in silk. It's alpha lwj and omega wwx and I think there's no more than 10 fic in the series. It's also in one-shots.

FOUND!🔒 Alliance AU series by Ilona22 (E, 21k, WangXian, JYL/OC, Arranged Marriage, A/B/O Dynamics, PWP, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Intersex Omegas, Not JC Friendly, Matchmaking, canon Jiang family dynamics, Family time, Night Hunts, Mention of male omega pregnancy, Intrigue at Jinlintai, Mentions of Prostitution, War, Conflict between characters)

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12. Hello wanxianficfinder, I am in need of your service once again. I am looking for a wangxian fic. I believe it is still in progress. When Wei Wuxian goes over the cliff at Nightless City, Lan Wangji follows after him. Baoshan Sanren and Lan Yi save them. They are living in her community with their three children. When A-Yuan comes across their past family and friends stuck in an array fighting for their lives. A-Yuan took them home with him, and they found out Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji survived. I hope that is enough information. Thank you for your help. @wanda63-blog

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13. Hii! For ficfinder, I'm looking for 2 fics. For the first one A) I don't remember a lot of details I just remeber there was a plot point where wei wuxian didn't realize wen Ning had a crush on him because he was too focused on lan wanji. I think it might've been an mpreg fic, but I'm not sure.

B) I'm also looking for a short fic where wwx was in the cloud recesses, and he was surprised no one believed he gave birth to a yuan when he really did.

13B)

FOUND? Lan Sizhui's forehead ribbon by I_have_a_fleet_of_ships (T, 1k, WangXian, Married WangXian, Established WangXian, LWJ and WWX Are LSZ's Parents, WWX is LSZ's Parent, Oblivious LWJ, Gusu Lan Forehead Ribbon, Good Uncle LQR, Fluff, Light Angst, Post Mpreg, Post-Canon)

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14. Hello, thank you for your hard work 🙏 For fic finder, could you please help me find a fic where LXC time travels (for a short time) after LWJ's punishment multiple times? The first time he prevents WWX from joining them in fighting the waterborne abyss and LWJ dies. After the second time LWJ disappeared and WWX had worked himself to death trying to find and save him, and WQ was in CR. And LXC realised each time JGY wore a different mask. The last time he decides to follow WWX and LWJ to Qionqi. @boxedbutterfly

FOUND? 🔒 Alternative Choices by StarClearWaters (Readoutloud) (T, 20k, WangXian, LXC/WQ, Time Travel, LXC pov, Protective LXC, Temporary Character Death, Butterfly Effect, Mpreg, Panic Attacks)

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15. Hello! I desperately need your help to find a fic where Wei Wuxian died and his soul woke up in the hospital in the modern times and he realized that he had been dead for at least a millenia. There was also a nurse who was the descendant of the Lans at his bedside. He realized that demonic cultivation became revered and respected, his work and Wen Qing's work on golden core transfer as well. Also, Lan Wangji and Sizhui became immortals. Due to some 'revelations' about the golden core transfer, Jiang Cheng stayed as an old man. Thank you so much in advance😭🙏

FOUND!🔒Confusion by Vrishchika (Not Rated, 5k, WangXian, Time Travel)

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16. Hello, I am looking for a fic where both WW and LWJ are ice skaters and they do competitions. One scene that sticks out is that WW had a concussion already and gets hurt during a competition making it worse. It did eventually become a series with one of the spin offs with Wangxian having a kid that may or may not like skating. It might have been deleted. Thank you!

FOUND? take my hand, will you share this with me series by doodlebutt (E, 137k, WangXian, JC/WQ, Modern, figure skating, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Major Character Injury, Recovery, Getting Together, Background Pregnancy, the mortifying ordeal of Talking About Your Feelings, sexually tense pair skating, and tbh. sexually tense everything else too, past trauma, public displays of affection aka canon wangxian behaviour, u dont need a sex tape when the cctv footage is Right There!, There Was Only One Bed, Pre-Relationship, TEEN WANGXIAN MY BELOVED, Semi-Public Sex, sleep deprivation and irresponsible decisions can be sexy sometimes, with additional warnings in start note, Domestic Fluff, Burnout, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, BSSR knows everything, angst! softness! tender yearning!, demi wwx)

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17. Hey, please help me find a fic where Wei Ying was trying to make lan wangji jealous with wen Ning and after a point there was a misunderstanding and lan wangji gives back his engagement ring to Wei Ying. @babymusicconnoisseur

FOUND? Things don't go as planned by Harjot (E, 4k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, PWP, Jealous LWJ, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, One-Sided Attraction, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Makeup, Makeup Sex, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, possesive lwj)

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18. Hi,

I was recommending the fic for glow up itmf, but couldn't find the name no matter what .

Maybe audience could help find it.

There was a fic where WY saw lz after a certain period of absence in cr (study was several years long) and lz was on a motorbike and was trying to impress WY. He even saved him from assault and gave a lift from Caiyi.

There were additional details about fighting wens who captured dragons etc (if I don't mix everything)

I believe it was detailed and long

Thank you! @best-before-end

NOT FOUND! this river runs to you Series by aubreyli, sundiscus (T/E, 66k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mutual Pining, Dragons, Literal Sleeping Together, Tender wound tending, First Time, Oral Sex, Coming Untouched, Porn with Feelings, Established Relationship)

FOUND! Hanlong by micratus (E, 282k, WangXian, Modern AU, Case Fic, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, But not only Cloud Recesses, Slow Burn, Oblivious WWX, Drunken Shenanigans, References to Drugs, Canon-Typical Violence, Action & Romance, with non-explicit SangCheng, Eventual Smut, Reincarnation, Humor, This is a translation, Modern with Cultivation, Some guys find redemption here) The events described happen in chapters 11 and 18.

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19. Hii I accidentally asked on the wrong acct lol. Okay so like this is a fic that's been on my mind for a while now 😭. It's a modern au and it's basically like. Wei Ying gets in a car accident with Xuanli. He was driving and when the paramedics arrive, his body isn't to be found. He's missing for a while with yanli and wanyin looking for him. Theres a hospital scene where they find him I think? They were worried sick about him and they let him know. Also turns out that he disappeared because of the guilt or something 😭 @thedreamybluepixie

FOUND! Cherry Cultivation by bengsi (M, 100k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cherry Magic AU, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Secretly a Virgin, Loss of Virginity, Memory Loss, Mind Reading, Minor ChengQing, Minor XiYao, Minor XuanLi, Yunmeng Siblings Feels, WWX & WQ Friendship, Referenced Hospitalization, referenced background character death, Twin Prides of Yunmeng Feels, Inspired By Cherry Magic)

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20. I'm looking for a fic that starts after WangXian have gotten together and the Lan elders (including Lan Qiren) want to get rid of WWX. LXC contacts LWJ about it but doesn't help WWX. LWJ is away on some cultivator business but comes flying (literally, on sword) back to Gusu to defend WWX. WWX and LWJ fight with the Lan elders and are losing. They are close to the edge of a cliff when WWX thinks about using and array(?) to teleport them away(I think???). He then asks LWJ if he trusts him and after getting a positive response tells him to jump off the cliff with him. If anyone could find this fic I would be very grateful ♡ @pancakeshitdifferentat4am

Mine is 20 and I just realized I forgot to mention that the array somehow sends them back in time so it was a time travel (fix-it???) fic. Please I'm becoming desperate 😭

OH MY GOD! I found it! I found mine(20)! Fate or luck is finally on my side! If anyone else was looking for it, here:

FOUND! To Live, Once Again by The_peregrine_falcon (G, 7k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Xuanwu of Slaughter Cave, Gusu Lan Forehead Ribbon, YLLZ WWX, WWX Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei Sect, Established Relationship, Post-Canon)

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#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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mysafehaneul · 27 days ago

Text

SEVERALITY: CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 1, Previously

A Seventeen Mafia X Doctor AU! Seungcheol X Reader

CHAPTER 4

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖🦢 ִֶָ་࿐ Song: Black Swan ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖🦢 ִֶָ་࿐

Chandeliers hung like frozen constellations from the high coffered ceilings, bathing the room in soft golden light. Old colonial ballroom now restored to modern perfection Tall arched windows were draped in velvet the colour of deep wine, casting shadows over the parquet floors that glinted beneath polished shoes.

The tables were set in a semicircle around the central stage, dressed in rich cream linens with gold lace overlays. Centrepieces of white orchids and eucalyptus sat in tall crystal vases, flickering in the candlelight. Gold-rimmed glasses held sparkling wine, and waiters in black waistcoats wove between guests with silver trays balanced on white-gloved hands.

The colour theme of the evening was ivory and garnet, reflected in everything from the napkins to the floor-length gowns of the event staff. Even the champagne bore a faint blush tint, poured into fluted glasses that clinked gently amid muted conversations.

A long buffet table near the east wall groaned under the weight of gourmet selections: truffle mushroom risotto, citrus-glazed duck, imported cheeses, delicate hors d'oeuvres on miniature porcelain spoons. An ice sculpture of Commissioner Salereno’s badge stood at the far end—melting slowly under the warmth of the room. Cameras flashed across the ballroom, gliding over polished shoes and sequined gowns. The elite of the city had gathered—politicians, business magnates, and shadows that ruled behind the scenes. lavish retirement party thrown in honour of Commissioner Tony Salereno.

The tension was still lingering, animosity thick in the air. Min Jaein stood near the centre of it all, quiet and unassuming, yet impossible to ignore. His second wife, Cassandra Min, is on his left side. White gown, sleek black hair, whose ends whispered near her shoulders a sharp nose and petal shaped lips, she was a vision, and much more than that during her younger days She was the daughter of a once-revered export tycoon—a man beloved by the people for his humble beginnings and charitable heart. It was he who saw potential in the then-disgraced Han Jaein and placed him beside himself as his right hand and later as his son-in-law, trusting the silent ex-convict to carry his legacy forward.

Jaein never strayed. He was dutiful, respectful, and steady. But Cassandra always knew his heart belonged elsewhere. She wasn’t foolish—she saw it in his silences, in the heaviness behind his eyes. And she hated that woman—and whatever she left behind —with a burning passion.

Eyes sweeping across the room when Cassandra’s vision registered an all-too-familiar face, Antina Salvatore neé Choi, Siwon’s wife, had known each other since they were girls. Same schools, same etiquette clubs, same elite circles. Their lives often collided. They were civil now—friends, even—but there was always something unspoken between them, a tension carefully dressed in pearls and pleasantries.

Antina Salavatore belongs to one of the most prominent arms traders in Italy, quite close to the Bulavias , related somehow. Anita was no less than a mafia princess and had faced the same fate as women in this world do, but she had luck on her side and Siwon in her palms so maybe life was easier for her, or that's what others thought.

Min Jaein had two sons with Cassandra. Both boys bore her striking features, but it was only the eldest who had inherited his father’s intellect. Jaein loved his sons deeply. Yet there was always a hollow ache in his chest—especially when he saw young women their age. He had no idea what became of his daughter and her mother after his release from prison. James Min had brought him back into the fold and gave him a second chance. But by the time Jaein found the courage to search, eight years had passed. He was told they were gone—both mother and daughter, dead. No graves. No trace. Just gone.

Cassandra had already entered his life by that time and there wasn’t much he could do about it either. At the end of the day, it was his father-in-law’s deal with him . And now, any hint of disloyalty—real or perceived—set the entire household on fire. There is no doubt that Cassandra is a very smart woman, but she is also equal amounts of evil and possessive, and that’s the truth. No one knows better than Jaein, and by the time he could do something about it, their eldest son was already 6 and the second was on the way.

The party thrummed with music and muted diplomacy.

Cassandra and Antina exchanged practised smiles and greetings. Meanwhile, Siwon and Jaein shared a firm handshake—brief, but significant—followed by a flash.

Antina, ever graceful, ever watchful, tilted her head and said with a polite smile, “So… what’s the plan for your eldest? Marriage talks yet?”

Cassandra matched her tone, her eyes flicking to her husband for a second too long. “Discussions are ongoing. But he is still young, just 24, so we’re not rushing him. But after all, there’s no union stronger than marriage, wouldn’t you agree?” She smiled sweetly at Jaein.

Antina raised her glass. “How many children did you say you had?”

It was a loaded question. She already knew the answer. Jaein caught the glint in the woman’s eyes.

Cassandra responded smoothly. “Two sons.”

Siwon’s brow twitched. He remembered a girl—someone younger than Seungcheol. A daughter. He turned to Jaein, studying his face.

“Aren’t you missing someone?”

Jaein’s expression didn’t change, but Cassandra’s fingers stiffened around her champagne flute.

“What was the girl’s name?” Siwon pressed. “Y/N?”

Cassandra cut in before Jaein could speak. “She’s dead. Sadly she passed away with her poor mother.”

Jaein’s voice was flat, hollow. “Shall we greet the other guests, honey?”

She gave a short nod.

As they drifted away, the names were exchanged like cold pleasantries.

“Siwon.”

“Jaein.”

“Antina”.

“Cassandra”.

The message had been delivered. Clearly, publicly.

By morning, photographs of the event were plastered across the front pages of the local times and splashed across social media. The headline didn’t need to say much.

A line had been drawn.

A truce declared.

For now. 𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯

Susan Paul stood near the edge of the ballroom, her gaze scanning the crowd like a seasoned general surveying a battlefield. The glittering party, dressed in tailored suits and wine-red gowns, spun on with laughter, camera flashes, and veiled threats masked as compliments.

Her fingers curled around the stem of an untouched glass of white wine.

“You’ve come far,” came a voice beside her—gravel, low, familiar.

She turned slightly. Her predecessor stood next to her, his frame a little more stooped, his hair more salt than pepper now, but his eyes—those eyes—still razor sharp. He handed her a drink, something darker, heavier.

“Bourbon,” he said. “You’ll need it.”

She accepted it, even though she knew better than to drink too much at an event like this.

He didn’t look at her, only at the crowd. At the Min family. The Chois. The mayor. The senator. People who could make or break a city without ever stepping into a council chamber.

“You see it, don’t you?” he said quietly. “All the pieces moving. Every word rehearsed, every hand shaken like a dagger sheathed.”

“I see a city that needs saving,” Susan replied, her voice calm but laced with steel.

He let out a dry chuckle. “I used to talk like that. Fresh out of the academy, thinking I could burn the rot out of this place. But rot has roots, Commissioner.”

She turned to him more fully, eyes hard. “So what? You gave up?”

“I got smart,” he said, sipping his drink. “You think bringing down the Min family or the Chois is the solution? When they fall, someone else takes the throne—someone worse, maybe more unpredictable or cruel. These people aren’t weeds. They’re part of the architecture. You can’t just pull them out. You learn to shape them, prune them, control the overgrowth.”

Susan’s jaw tightened. “You think I don’t know the risks?”

“No,” he said, eyes finally meeting hers. “I think you do. I also think you’re still human. And I recognise that spark in you. Better than anyone else could.”

She held his gaze.

“But if you want to save the people,” he continued, “there are ways to do it. Ways that don’t involve getting too close.”

He let the words hang for a moment before nodding toward the far end of the ballroom, where Han Jaein stood, drink in hand, exchanging cool glances with Min Siwon.

“If one is fire,” he said lowly, “the other is gasoline. You get too close, Commissioner—”

“And the city burns,” she finished, softly.

He didn’t answer.

Just sipped his bourbon, then slipped into the crowd, vanishing like smoke from an old war.

Susan looked down at the drink in her hand, then out at the party again—at the rot, the masks, the fire waiting for a spark.

She didn’t sip.

She simply watched.

𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯

The night was unfolding like a polished political opera—glass clinks, soft jazz from the quartet, silk gowns grazing marble floors. Seungcheol stood near the back patio, blazer slung casually over one shoulder, hair swept back with a kind of curated recklessness. He had no patience for these events, especially not tonight.

He took a sip of his drink, sharp and neat, when a voice sliced through the chatter.

“You always look like you’re moments away from picking a fight,” a honeyed tone teased. “Is that what you’re thinking or is it just your face?”

He turned, slightly, to find the commissioner’s daughter, Salone, standing beside him. She wore a deep emerald satin gown with a thigh-high slit and matching heels that clicked confidently with every step. Her neckline framed a collarbone etched in elegance, and her red lips curled into a smirk that had too much knowledge behind it.

“Depends,” Seungcheol replied, giving her a once-over.

She laughed, leaning closer. “Smooth. But I’ve heard you’re not exactly the marrying type.”

“I’m not exactly the party type either. And yet here I am.”

She tilted her head, her earrings catching the chandelier’s light. “I think you enjoy being watched more than you admit.”

He settled his gaze on her, waiting for her to continue but from the line of his vision, he saw his mother making her way towards him, slicing through the room like a blade in silk.

"Cheol-ie", she said smoothly, “you’ll let your mother steal you for a dance, won’t you?”

He blinked, then smiled tightly. “You’re not very subtle,” he muttered.

“Whatever do you mean, my darling?” His mother’s slight curve and the impending meaning behind it weren’t lost on him.

As they stepped onto the floor, the music swelled. Anita moved gracefully, but Seungcheol was stiff, eyes darting to where his father stood laughing beside Senator Ray.

“Still sulking over your father’s decision?” she asked, raising a brow.

“I’m not sulking,” he muttered.

She smirked knowingly. “You’re angry that your father shook hands with a man you’d rather see under concrete.”

He said nothing.

“So?” she asked after a beat. “What do you think of the commissioner’s daughter? She’s got ambition. Smart too. Not to mention easy on the eyes.”

“She’s… alright,” Seungcheol replied curtly.

Anita’s brow arched. “That doesn’t sound like a glowing review.”

“Because I’m not buying a damn car, Mother.”

She chuckled softly. “You don’t believe in marriage?”

“I believe in leverage,” he said flatly. “And I’ve seen what love does. Look at Mincheol . Look at what it cost him. You think I want that?”

Anita’s steps slowed. Why would you say that? he has a nice wife who can support him in his career a beautiful son.”

“But is he happy?”

Anita sighed effortlessly slipping into Italian, “Choel-ie, happiness isn’t constant and in the life we live, we have to pick our moments. Everyone has their differences; nothing is a cakewalk – even the most romantic of the loves have their own problems– I know the type of expectations people put on you and Mincheol, but I have raised you both to try and seek a window to some stability, some normalcy in the midst of all of this. So tell me, no one has caught your attention? Not even a spark?”

Seungcheol was about to shake his head when an image—brief, uninvited—flashed in his mind: the cardiologist in their new hospital. The one with the clipped voice, firm eyes, and the no-nonsense walk. The one who didn’t cower in his presence.

His jaw tensed. “No.”

But Anita saw it—the flicker.

“You hesitated,” she said, amused. “Who is it?”

“No one, Mama,” he answered too quickly.

They circled around once more, and when Anita glanced over his shoulder, she found the commissioner’s daughter staring at them from across the room, her smile still in place—but her eyes narrowed.

“Careful, Seungcheol,” Anita said softly. “In a room like this, even your silences speak. But I am sure, whoever it is, she will be one lucky girl...."

𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯

A week after the party

Bright fluorescent lights bathed the hallway in a clinical glow as you walked alongside Dr Cordon, flipping through a patient file on his tablet while the steady click of your shoes echoed against the polished floor.

“So, Dr Noyan and Dr Im for the next cardiac run?” Dr Cordon asked, adjusting the clipboard in his hand.

“I’d like to see how Dr Im handles pressure before we bring him into a double bypass,” Y/N replied thoughtfully. “Let’s assign him to assist first. Batra can lead—she’s proven she can stay focused even when things get complicated.”

As they neared the central desk, soft chatter drifted from the nurses’ station, where a few staff nurses leaned in close, speaking in hushed, animated tones.

“Did you hear? The Mins and the Chois are working together now—Tony Salereno’s retirement party sealed the deal.”

“I thought they hated each other.”

“They did. But apparently, a handshake can buy peace if there’s enough money behind it,” one of the nurses snorted quietly.

Another chimed in, her voice tinged with curiosity, “This place feels more like a corporation now… We’ve got scanners that weren’t even in prototype last year.”

“Yeah, and patient load’s doubled. But hey, at least now we’ve got the funding to actually treat them properly.”

“The new director, he is the Choi’s youngest son– they say he’s really ruthless. His men sometimes come in and out of the mortuary; I’ve heard one of the night duty guards say it.”

“But he is so handsome,” making them collectively giggle.

You caught fragments of their conversation as you passed but didn’t let it show on your face. “Doesn’t it feel like every floor is being reshaped overnight?” Dr Cordon asked, noticing your silence.

“It is,” Y/N said calmly, your eyes flicking to the new security camera fixed in the corner. “They’re trying to build an empire from inside a hospital. We’re just… part of the blueprint.”

Dr Cordon gave you a sidelong glance. “You don’t approve.”

“I don’t disapprove,” you murmured. “But I care more about scalpel precision than corporate mergers. As long as the OR stays neutral ground, I can live with it.”

Just then, the elevator at the far end of the corridor chimed open—and three men in dark suits stepped out, standing like sentinels. One of them locked eyes with Y/N briefly before speaking into his comm.

“Guess neutrality’s becoming harder to guarantee,” Cordon muttered.

You didn’t respond, eyes briefly narrowing before walking towards your cabin; you have an hour before you get back to rounds.

“Let’s prep the theatre schedule. We’ll make sure whoever steps in knows that here, only skill decides your worth.”

“Be easy on them; don’t forget you and Jeonghan were also in their place not too long ago.”

Giving the man a nod, you opened your cabin door. locking the door behind you with a tired sigh. All you wanted was ten minutes of silence. But instead, your eyes locked on the last person you expected—or wanted—to see.

Seungcheol sat on your couch, his white dress shirt wrinkled, a smear of dried blood near the collar. His lip was split open, and his knuckles looked freshly bruised. He didn’t stand. He didn’t smile.

And much to your liking, this isn’t the first time he is sitting here nor a new state; it was rather the third time this week, reason unbeknownst to you. For someone so well trained and surrounded by security, he sure is sporting some petty injuries. Almost as if planned?

“What are you doing here?” You asked flatly, not bothering to hide the irritation in your voice.

He leaned back slightly, arms resting along the backrest like this was his space. “I’m injured. Thought you’d fix me up.”

“The ER is two floors down.”

“I don’t like crowds.”

You crossed the room in silence, grabbed the first-aid kit, and set it down on the table with a thud. “Sit still.”

He didn’t argue, just watched you as you sat on the coffee table in front of him, snapping on gloves. You cleaned the blood around his knuckles with practised efficiency, your touch clinical. He studied you—eyes sharp, calculating.

“Are you always this quiet?” he asked.

You didn’t respond. You reached for antiseptic and swabbed it across the cut on his lip. He hissed through clenched teeth.

“You didn’t hesitate with that,” he muttered.

“Should’ve gone to the ER,” you replied, voice cold.

His gaze flicked to the photograph on your desk. He leaned sideways, squinting.

“Is that your dog?” he asked, ignoring the way you stiffened.

You didn’t answer.

It was a picture of you, Jeonghan and Rocky, your Doberman, from when you graduated med school.

His eyes moved to the second photo. “That man... Cordon, right? He works in cardiology?”

“Head of surgery”, you said curtly.

“He looks like he’s known you a long time.”

You said nothing, focusing instead on bandaging his hand. The air was thick between you now. He didn’t look away from your face.

“What about your real family?”

You paused—just for a second. But you said nothing, taping the gauze down tight.

“Don’t talk much about them.”

“Because it’s none of your business,” you said simply, standing.

He tilted his head slightly, like he was trying to decode you. “You were raised by him?”

Your jaw tightened. You turned the picture frame face down on the table. “You’re done. You can go now, Director Choi .”

He stood slowly, flexing his hand, but his eyes hadn’t lost their interest. “Take a man out of his curiosity, doctor.”

“I can only take the man out of his illness. Goodnight, Director Choi.” your flat, disinterested tone laced with a finality.

He didn’t press further; he just walked to the door, stopping once, hand on the knob.

“You know… Doctor”

You didn’t even blink. Waiting for him to continue

“Don’t you feel like we have met before?”

Silence.

Your tone was razor-sharp. “Do yourself a favour; ask the person responsible for the injury to refrain from hitting in the nose again, or else it will fracture and cause a breathing problem.”

A smile, in its rarity, graced his face as he opened the door. “I’ll see you around, doctor.”

You didn’t look up. Didn’t watch him leave. But only after the door shut and his footsteps faded down the hallway did your shoulders drop, the mask falter.

Alone again—but not at ease.

𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯

A week ago, The night after the party

The Choi estate still glowed with scattered candlelight and the clink of glasses being cleared. Seungcheol pushed open the heavy oak door of his father’s private study. Inside, Siwon sat behind a desk, jacket off, cufflinks undone, sipping from a glass of aged scotch as though he hadn’t just brokered peace with an old enemy.

Seungcheol didn’t knock.

Siwon glanced up.

“I should’ve been consulted.”

His father leaned back, swirling the amber liquid. “About what? A handshake between two men older than your anger?”

“You don’t get to lecture me about anger when you’ve built empires off it.”

A beat passed. Siwon set the glass down with quiet deliberation.

“This truce—this gesture—keeps your trucks on the road, your ships sailing, your cargo in ports, your suppliers and buyers happy, and the lands and the buildings It helps to keep your name clean and keeps the commissioner’s eyes off our books. It keeps you breathing in a city that eats men younger than you for breakfast.”

“I don’t want to survive by licking the boots of a man who once put a bullet in our cousin’s skull.”

Siwon stood now, slow and deliberate, walking around the desk. “You think this is weakness? You think making peace is surrender?”

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened. “I think you’re old. And tired. And too sentimental for the ghosts you buried.”

They were nose to nose now. Siwon didn’t blink.

“You’re smart, Seungcheol, but you're not wise. Not yet. You think this world is built on loyalty and vengeance. It’s not. It’s built on calculated debt. And every deal I make is one less bullet you’ll have to take later.”

Seungcheol laughed bitterly. “You always did love playing god.”

“And you always did love pretending you weren't born of a devil.”

For a moment, silence swallowed the room—two men, too alike, too stubborn.

Then Siwon’s tone dropped. “You want to tear down what I built? Fine. Do it when I’m dead. But as long as I breathe, you’ll follow the order I give—and right now, that order is truce.”

Seungcheol stared at his father, eyes burning—not with fear, but defiance. Then, without another word, he turned about and walked out

But his father’s voice stopped him.

“When you were young, you used to go to Jaein’s house to play.”

Seungcheol didn’t turn. His patience had long run dry.

“I don’t know. Maybe. So what?”

There was a pause. A flicker of hesitation in Siwon's usually impenetrable voice.

“Do you remember his daughter—the girl who used to follow around your older brother like a puppy?”

That made Seungcheol frown faintly. He looked over his shoulder. “I’m not sure I follow.”

Siwon stepped closer now, slower, measured, like he was delivering a confession no one was supposed to hear.

“Jaein claims she’s dead. But when our men went looking for Mira—his wife—and their daughter, only the mother’s body was found. Mira was dead. But the girl... Y/N... she was missing.”

Seungcheol stilled. Something shifted in his gut. “What was her name?”

A beat passed before his father answered. “Y/N”.

And just like that, the name hit him like a splash of ice water to the chest. His breath caught in his throat.

“I have a feeling she’s still out there,” his father muttered, more to himself now. “And that cunning bastard—he’s hiding her or something.”

But Seungcheol wasn’t listening anymore. That name—Y/N. He had heard it recently, too recently.

His mind flashed back to the hospital. The calm, assertive voice. The sharp intellect. The way she didn’t cower in front of him, even when every other doctor did. The way his name sounded so strangely different when it came from her mouth. Her gaze felt so similar when it landed on him.

His fingers curled slightly, a mixture of curiosity and something far more dangerous coiling in his chest.

“Y/N…” he whispered under his breath.

His father didn’t notice the shift in his son’s demeanour or the distant look in his eyes. But something had changed.

Seungcheol felt a tingle of excitement course through his veins, the kind that sent a rush of energy surging from his chest to his fingertips. His lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk. That name—Y/N—it was like a spark had been lit inside him, and suddenly, everything else around him seemed to blur.

Without a word, he turned and left his father’s office, the weight of his thoughts pressing against his mind like a pounding drum. As the door clicked shut behind him, he felt a strange sense of anticipation build, twisting in the pit of his stomach.

Things just got really, really interesting.

END OF CHAPTER FOUR

A/N: Thank you so much for your lovely responses and comments. It surely is encouraging, but I would really appreciate it if you click the link attached to the Tag list attached at the end of the fic, cause it makes my work a little easier, so I dont end up missing out on someone.

Tag list: @seonghwaexile, @asyre, @xyzzzs-things, @kohielatte , @scuzmunkie , @blueskyandream-blog(Click the link on Tag List to be added.)

See you next week.

MSH

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