#monkey man fluff

[chaithetics]

Where to Put My Hands

Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x plus size f (afab) reader Prompt: Reader having a fixation on him and his hands and him doing something about it. Word count: 1.4K (I tried to keep it concise lol) Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff/comfort, smut. Reader doesn't have any other physical descriptions other than being plus size. Not proof/ beta read. A/N: I'm so excited to share our first Fics for Palestine! (Learn more at that post) Our kind donator has wished to remain anon but a massive thanks to them! I hope you all enjoy this Monkey Man fic!!! Let's keep rising Dev hive! Comments and reblogs are always welcomed and appreciated! 🫶 P.S. Keep doing what you can to support Palestine! It's all important, whether it's donating, contacting your local and relevant political reps, sharing and engaging with resources and posts, showing up to local events etc. Here is a post I made with free things to do from home to help Palestine. Much love 🖤❤️🤍💚

Kid and you were lying down, he was a man of few words, even in tender moments. But you weren’t bothered, you’re holding one of his hands with both of yours, running your fingers over him. Every side of his hands and then up his forearm, exploring every inch of skin. With each day of your relationship, you’d been able to warm up a part of him that had been shut off for so long. 

He looked at you as you focused on his hands, your favourite body part of his. While you’d melted him, his hands and everything they could do had continued to melt you (in their special way) more and more each day as well. His brown eyes were warm as he took in all of you, how your eyes were fixed on his hands, the gentle touch of your hands, how the sweet smile you wear makes your full cheeks look, how your soft arms looked in the evening light. His beautiful personification of peace. 

���Is it weird that I just want to be seen by you?” His voice is quiet, it often is, and there’s a vulnerable look on his face, his eyes searching for reassurance. There’s something so warm and comforting about being in this relationship but it’s an extremely new and vulnerable feeling for him. 

“Not at all.” You whisper as you rub his wrist gently with your forefinger and thumb. “I see you.” you respond as your gaze turns to him and you smile. 

He smiles at that, clearly feeling comforted in the unexplored waters he’s swimming deeper and deeper into each day. Kid moves and presses a soft kiss to your lips, slowly deepening it as he moves his hand out of yours so he can cup your full cheeks. 

You’d initially relaxed easily into the kiss and were content with it, that was until he’d moved his hand. It was pretty rude considering it had been a strong fixation of yours lately, something he knew. “Hey,” you whispered, “I wasn’t done playing with your hands.” You whisper in a voice that sounds almost annoyed, he tries to distract you with another deeper kiss. 

“Really?” His voice has a slightly playful tinge. “Do my hands belong to you now, jaan?” 

“Yes. It’s in the relationship rules.”

“Well I better put them to good use, I suppose…” He leaned back and then sat on his ankles as he looked at you. “Because I don’t know where to put my hands...” He teases you but there’s a knowing look in his eyes. Oh, how those big brown orbs mesmerise and melt you. 

Kid uses his knee to spread your legs out and then moves so he’s kneeling between them. He caresses your soft jawline for a moment, his fingers gently holding your chin for a moment as his free hand starts to run along your thick thighs. You breathe in a sharp inhale as you look at him, you know what’s going to happen but each cell in your body is buzzing with anticipation still. 

You watch him with bated breath as he runs his fingers along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, his eyes are looking at his hands as he explores this intimate area of you. His hand that had gently been holding your chin let go, letting his fingers fall, travelling over your chest, where he gave your left breast a squeeze that made you gasp and bite your lip. 

His hands then glide along the smooth, softness of your round stomach he runs his fingers along where stretch marks and moles are and he takes a soft breath in as he looks up at you. He moves his hand over to palm you above your underwear, you let out a small whine and your head falls back. His left hand massages the plump flesh of your thigh as he continues to palm and move his hand along above your underwear, teasingly.

“Please…. Please…” You beg in desperation as your hips thrust up to try and meet his hand. To be buried against it, in desperate need of more friction and pressure. A need only he can satisfy.

He can hear the neediness in your voice, he can feel it radiating off of you, and he can feel it against his hand. He quickly pulls your underwear down, lifting one of your legs slightly so it’s off and just hanging around the other one. He moves his hands closer to your needy hole, dancing around your inner thighs for a moment. You breathe in shakily as the feeling almost tickles. 

You watch him as he palms you once again, his other hand is now gripping your round hips, starting to run his fingers around your vulva, slowly along your folds to tease you, watching your reaction. Amazed at the power he has over your body, his ability to please you with just his hands. His fingers were touching every part of you but your hole that wanted to swallow him, or your clitoris. 

Kid can see the need in your eyes, how you're looking at him letting out soft moans and gasps as he teases you. 

“Look at you, good girl… such a good girl…” He whispers in that voice that makes you let out a small whine as he rubs your bundle of nerves in a circular motion with his thumb. 

He continues and then slips a finger into your hole, it’s barely in, just a teasing taste as he watches you. Drinking in your reaction, the way your back arches and then comes back down as your hips thrust up to try and swallow more of him, to feel him deeper inside of you. Kid obliges and quickly moves his finger in deeper which pulls the sweetest moan out of you that makes him smile. 

You let out a chorus of moans growing louder as you feel him move his finger deeper and deeper as he moves it back and forth, it’s at this point that he inserts another finger which makes you whine and close your eyes. It’s an incredible sight to him as he watches this. He moves his fingers at the most perfect rhythm that he knows will bring you closer. 

He moves a hand to squeeze your breast again, to run it along your nipple as he keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you. You’re whining as it’s building up deliciously, in an overwhelming way. He brings his hand back down and he starts to give your clitoris more attention again, just as it deserves. He rubs your clitoris faster, applying a little more pressure which makes you cry out. “Does that feel good? Do my hands feel good? Is this what you wanted, what you were thinking about before?” He asks as he keeps going faster and building to that rhythm that he knows is going to make you release. 

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” You whine out as you nod frantically, you have one hand gripping his shoulder as he keeps moving. All you can think of is his touch and you know you’re on the edge, he’s bringing you there and you’re whining louder. “Go on, be a good girl…” He says as he keeps this current pace of pumping, he’d slipped a third finger in and he’s now giving equal attention to both your sweet spot of nerves and your vagina equal attention. He’s urging you to release, he knows your close. You nod and whine out as you know you’re almost there. He continues and it feels perfect, your back starts to arch as you feel your eyes roll back as you claw his shoulder and come. You come hard and it’s perfect, equally what you knew his hands would give you. Exactly what you’d been fantasising about as you’d held his hands earlier. 

You let out a deep breath, Kid gives you some time to recover from that release but he spends the rest of the night praising you as he gives you exactly what you wanted. Showing you just how he can use his hands and how good they feel.

[ashsimpsalot]

Coconut oil & honey (Monkey Man Kid X reader)

A/n: I haven't written anything in so so long. Like a year long. This is a fluff fic erm... OKAY ENJOY

Gentle love?

Gentle love.

He's 27 now, almost 28.

28

He's the age that his mother will forever be, and after 18 years, he's found that feeling he's been desperately craved, he's mistaken for trying to fill that hole in his chest by the only thing he's understands; pain.

The angry 13 years old boy with tiger stripes on his wrists would be baffled if he'd find out that the emptiness he feels is that yearning for love.

The stoic 20 years old boy with knitted eyebrows will scoffs if he's told him that he needs to open his heart bigger to fill it up.

"what is grief if not love with nowhere to go?" his woman had said while tracing his scarred palm with her perfect fingers.

Perfect.

She's perfect.

Who would've known that he'd find the missing half of his cursed soul in a cursed hotel? Not him.

"where'd you go, handsome?" you asked, sweeter than sugar cane, quieter than the night outside of her shitty apartment.

Just the sound of your voice had crafted a small, soft smile on his otherwise tight lips. "I'm right here, jaanu", " Kid would answer just as quiet as you, reaching behind, taking one of your hands out of his curls, planting a kiss on your palm ignoring the distinct smell of coconut oil and honey. By pure muscle memories you flatten your palm out and placed it on his cheek.

"you're getting all the oil on your lips and cheek, silly." you chuckled.

and right there and there he'd understand that half of his heart had spilled out of his chest and now free to roam the world in the form of his lover.

Kid's nights used to be filed with snoring men and loud voices of his mother's screams.

Now it's this, you sitting on the couch, him sitting on the floor between your legs, eyes pinned on whatever movie you decided to turn on, your fingers that are red with henna along with small ring he'd bought with whatever money left in his pockets wrapped around your ring finger that are willingly buried in his curls, working their magic.

A determine look on your face as you massages your homemade hair oil into his scalp.

He'd never know that the smell of the coconut oil and honey that hits his nose when he first met you would stay in his life for this long, and he's wish upon all that he knows for it to stay forever.

"lost you there again, bandhar." you said softer this time, he knows what that means, concerned. He almost whined when your fingers left his hair, he knew that you're done.

He shakes his head, held your hand and continue to do so as he settles to sit next to you.

"thank you." he whispered, kissing your palm and pushes his cheek against it next. You smiled. "you know I love playing with your hair. This is purely for my pleasure." you joked.

He didn't laugh, he shook his head. "not that, you saved me, you found the heart that I lost all those years ago, you.." he stopped, he realised he doesn't have the words to let you understand just how much you meant to him.

"I love you" you replied, you understood, you always do.

He smiled and leans in to kiss you. "I love you much more than you can ever imagine," he whispered, with his forehead pressed onto yours, colloused thumb softly rubbing on your chin.

He felt it again, the love you have for him spill onto him just by your hands, your hands in his curls, your hands on his cheeks, your fingers in his palm, your hand on his chest.

"I love you," he repeated, he'd laid down on the couch, pulling you with him, the desire to be close to you is too strong, you can't be closer, the only way to do that is to open him up and crawl into him, you've laid your head on his chest, eyes back on the screen. You're watching the TV and he's watching her.

"I love you," he repeats again.

"I love you" he repeats, not giving you a chance to reply.

"I love you," if you've forgotten.

"I love you," if you've doubted him.

He sighs and kisses your forehead. "I love you,"

You softly chuckle and move up.

"i love you," he said again, you had leaned in to kiss him to shut him up, hand caressing his cheek as you do so. He thought he'd die, he thought the love in his chest is too much it'll burst open and kill him.

"I love you too," your voice silenced him.

He smiled as you went back to lay on his chest, finger tracing circles on his chest.

He closes his eyes.

He knows now.

He's knows he's loved.

He matters.

He matters.

[touchyluffy]

you scold luffy for eating his third midnight snack in bed and he pauses, looks between his food and you, and then wraps a rubbery arm around your waist three times before lifting you out of bed and walking you both to the kitchen where he plops you both down in chairs, and continues to eat.

[cherryblossom-enthusiast]

Retribution (The Kidxf!Reader) - Monkey Man

A/N: I said I was writing it and it has been done lol If you haven’t watched this film yet, please do! I indulged and wrote a small fic about it lol (Don't mind the abyssmal pacing of this, I barely edited and added anything) I hope you all enjoy it and can someone please indulge me more by writing more fics about this man!? Dev Patel absolutely killed it! Put him in a rom-com! I tried to write the hijra with as much care as possible. Please let me know if there’s something I can be more educated on in terms of this!

Synopsis: A mysterious man arrives at the temple you call home and makes quite an impression.

Warnings/ Tags: Angst. Fluff. Allusions to sex work. Descriptions of violence and blood. Coarse language. Kissing.

Word Count: 3.2K

Masterlist

The cheers of those around you interrupt the hanging of your laundry.

Peeking through the shoulders and the shadows, you sneak a glance at the subject of commotion, and it doesn’t surprise you.

The way he moves is equal parts graceful and aggressive. His punches are meticulously messy, a choreographed war drum thrumming to the beat of his own heart. This man is far removed from who you remember gazing upon a few days ago. His eyes were lost, sunken, like a child looking for guidance or divine judgement for all that’s led him to this point.

This was not that man.

This man was vengeance personified.

And through him, you felt hope.

You knew nothing about him. Alpha was able to garner all of your help, quietly and quickly instructing to pull the man out of the river. You were there when they cauterized his wounds. His screams were pure agony, making you cringe, and somehow you felt that his pain went deeper than physicality.

He walked like a ghost when he first came, aimlessly walking, like trying to just bump into something that would give him an answer.

Now, it seems he walks with purpose.

He throws his last punch and receives a mighty applause. The crowd recognizes the show’s over for the time being and they disperse as he keeps heaving, staring at the bag like he wants to hit it more. Like he never wants to stop.

You pick up a basket and walk over to him. Whether to strike up a proper conversation or feeling annoyed at the dirtied shirt on the ground you had just washed, you don’t exactly know. But something about him is magnetic, pulling you in, just like the first time you saw him that night, all bloody and bruised.

You nod at his white shirt. “I’ll take that.”

He breaks from his spell and turns to look at you.

His heaving slows, his breaths getting deeper by the second. For what you think is a few minutes, he just stares are you, and you at him, both of you taking each other in. You realize his physique really is something to awe over, but more importantly, that his eyes are far gentler than what you thought possible.

You tilt your head. “The shirt?”

He bends and picks up the white cloth, simply extending it to you as he continues to stare. You gesture for him to drop it into the basket. With an amused scoff, you start to turn away. “I’d appreciate it if you hung the next shirt you tore off on a wall.”

“Your name?”

His voice surprises you. You’ve only heard him speak a few times before. He sounds rough, and scratchy, like he doesn’t use his voice often.

You introduce yourself and after a few moments, he repeats your name back to you. Slowly, quietly, as if he’s scared of offending you in any way. Listening to it fall from his lips is like listening to dripping honey and you’d be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t make heat crawl up your neck.

To save face, you again start to walk away from him. “Widen your stance.” You advise, not waiting to hear a reply.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Several days pass until you have another full conversation.

You’re caught up with mundane chores. He’s caught up with punching that bag and doing god knows what else when he’s not at the temple.

Though there was that one time you almost slip and he catches you effortlessly by the waist and it definitely made your stomach flutter.

You smile the first time you depart to wash laundry and see his shirt hanging over a nearby wall.

He’s getting better. His posture looks strong, immovable. Sometimes you think with all that’s happened to him, that he must be invincible. Surely, no one can lose that much blood and still maintain their sanity.

But then you see his movements wain by the end of his exercise and it’s like something powerful overcomes him as he loses all finesse and he punches that rice-filled bag for all its worth with no rhyme or reason. You sense his frustration as he suddenly stops and puts his hand on his hips, breathing erratically.

You approach him cautiously. Pulling out a bottle of water from your laundry basket, you offer it to him. “Consider taking a break?”

He’s slow to take the bottle from you but he does so anyway. After almost draining the whole thing, he splashes the rest of the water over his head. Only as he shakes the droplets off his curly locks does he try to return it to you.

“An actual break.” You reiterate, stuffing the bottle of water back into your basket. “Your drummer needs one too. He might have built up his callouses, but he should eat something.”

The man turns to look where your eyes are directed and though you don’t have a clear view of his face, you can tell from the way that his eyebrows ease that he feels a sense of guilt. The drummer simply raises his palm and stands. “Take some time to clear your head, I’ll be here whenever you have.” He leaves the courtyard until it’s just the two of you left.

The weather is oddly cool today. There’s smoke and a mugginess that’s expected from being close to the heart of the city, but if you were to look around, it’d almost seem like you were transported decades into the past. The temple acts like a sanctuary, shielding you all from the outside world’s noise and it does a good job.

You walk towards a small wooden bench off to the far side and take a seat. You set your basket down and pat the space next to you. “Come,” You beckon “I’d appreciate some company while I fold all of these white shirts I’ve had to add to my load.”’

Something like embarrassment flashes on his face as he follows your command and sits right next to you. His posture is stiff like he wants to make an impression. It’s obvious your newfound companion doesn’t like to talk, or more accurately, isn’t very good at starting small conversation.

“I’m sorry for the bother.”

He has a tone of bashfulness, unable to turn in your direction. Your smile widens as you continue to fold “I didn’t say it was bothersome.” You refute. “In fact, I’d rather say I don’t mind you taking your shirt off.”

You try to make direct eye contact then, but he swallows thickly and doesn’t meet your eyes. It makes you giggle, but you decide to pull back on the joke, not wanting him to take offence or cause him more uneasiness. “Besides, each shirt is a testament to how much work you’ve put into bettering your skills here.”

That gets him to scoff and drop his head in disbelief “I’m still not where I need to be.”

“No,” you reply earnestly “but you will be.”

This earns you another bout of silence.

 For a while, you both just enjoy each other’s quiet company. He stares blankly ahead and you give him the time to examine whatever it is he’s battling through in his own thoughts.

Eventually, he sighs and inclines his head towards the sky. “How long have you lived here?”

“Ever since I could remember.”  You answer honestly. “Alpha says they opened the door and there I was, miraculously alive, left laying on a dirty blanket.”

“You’ve been here ever since?” He carefully asks.

“I’ve never lived anywhere else if that’s what you’re asking.” You pass an unfolded shirt to him and to your surprise he starts to fold it with no question. Bitter memories start to glaze your view. “And for someone as uneducated as me, there’s only a few jobs out there that I’d be considered for as a woman.”

A knowing silence passes through you both at the statement. Yatana was unforgiving. A real dog-eat-dog society with no time or need for those who couldn’t stomach it or keep up. Truth be told, most of the time you couldn’t. Very often would a prostitute or child be pounding on your doors for help or asylum. Hungry, beaten, thrown away like a speck of dust not worth anyone’s time.

“Doesn’t it make you angry?”

You’re unphased by the question. “Of course it does.”

And you mean it. There are days when you scream at the sky or dunk your head slightly longer underwater to try and get away from it all, try to release it in some way.

Eyes still trained to the sky; he confesses “Because that’s all I feel. Anger and pain, and I can’t-“ he struggles to finish his words. “I can’t-‘

“I know.”

That makes him look back down and finally turn in your direction. He patiently expects you to explain.

 You swallow thickly but continue to talk anyway. “To feel helpless, like you can’t do anything no matter how hard you try.” Gritting your teeth, you realize your hands have stopped folding. “But it doesn’t matter, because there are people who need me more strongly than the pain I feel.”

He considers your words thoughtfully and waits for you to speak once more. “Amidst all this chaos, this temple stands. People need me here. Children, mothers, the beautiful hijra who gave me a home, and when they leave this place with the tiniest glimpse of hope on their faces, then I know I’ve done my job. I don’t fight as well as the hijra here, I don’t expect to get much better, but I want them to know that they have refuge with me.”

You pass him an unfolded sari and for the rest of the time you are sitting together, you both fold quietly, basking in the sun and each other’s presence.

He continues to train harder after that. Each step is quick, each punch as sharp as a bullet. When he isn’t training, he’s watching. The news, the protests, the speeches, like he’s reassuring himself, learning the best way to approach.

 It’s obvious everyone here, including you is taken with this stranger. Though, you don’t really know if you could even call him that anymore.

It’s like he seeks you out. It doesn’t matter if it’s simply sitting together for dinner or him deliberately waiting for you to walk through the courtyard with your basket under your arm. Both of your eyes are trained on each other with an eager sheen.

Maybe it’s fear or maybe it's an understanding that your pairing would most likely never work out in the end. Either way, whatever it is, it disappoints you because you so badly want to believe he wants you the same way.

The mood becomes slightly flirtatious and you catch sight of a boyish grin here or there, especially when he’s surrounded by the hijra.

But anytime you think he might ask you something, or just when you’re on the cusp of telling him your interest, something stops you in your tracks, holding you back.

A recollection plays in your head of last night.

It’s just him and the drummer again today. You wait near a dark window before you pass so as to not to disturb his concentration.

He has a beat to the way he fights, a brutal rhythm, and it astounds you every time you watch him. If this is how he looks punching a bag, you wonder how he’d look fighting against others. You find the thought oddly attractive, and it makes you flush.

For all his skill in the ring, it seems that’s where all his artistry in footwork stops. Surrounded by laughing and beaming faces, with the sound of softer drumming in the air, everyone takes a turn dancing. No one cared about how sloppy anyone was. You sure weren’t the best dancer amongst the hijras, but this seemed unsubstantial when you were all drunk on each other’s company.

The children present that evening and you form a small circle. You’re swinging your arms around when you notice your mystery man with a smile of his own. It knocks the air out of your lungs. It’s one that gives him crinkles around his eyes and all at once he doesn’t look like a hardened killer, but someone you’d see on a billboard or a magazine cover.

You crook your finger at him, inviting him into your little dance number. He tries to politely decline, his once beaming face turning something sheepish, but Alpha bumps him shoulder to shoulder, and soon the rest of them urge and tease him to dance along. When he gets to the center begrudgingly, it’s already too late for him to back out. Two children start to pull him until he lands directly opposite of you.

The circle of your intertwined hands spins, it twirls here and there, and when you all raise your hands to shrink the circle, you land face-to-face with the most fascinating man you’ve ever seen. It lasts all of five seconds, but everything around you dims as you look at this man’s face illuminated by firelight.

His eyes are his most emotive feature and they always seem to twinkle. Right then, they almost looked like jewels from the way they glossed over.

You pick up on the way those eyes slowly dipped down towards your lips and suddenly you wonder if he’s thinking about the same things you are. If he really does want you the same way you do.

But before you can tumble into that path of thought, cheers and hoots pull you out of the little bubble of enchantment you’d created. You turn to reject the idea of it all, but when you glance back at the man in front of you, your breath catches.

He continues to stare intently at your visage, not minding or caring about the extra attention one bit.

And then a scream erupts in your ears.

Seeing him punch the bag until rice grains stick to his chest reminds you of what he’s capable of.

When he shares a nod with the drummer, you know that he’s finally achieved what he came here at the temple to do.

Dropping your basket, you immediately rush indoors, following the cries of the hijra around you. Lakshmi lays in the center of the temple room floor, blood dripping from them like a fountain. You crouch and gently put their head on your knees as the weeps continue all around you.

They explain that they put a notice on the door, Shakti’s men, and all you can see is an unbridled tint of red starting to form. Your heart is pounding, Lakshmi is struggling to fight for air, and in front of this statue, an indescribable wave of pain crashes into you.

It’s loud, far too loud. With your thoughts, the cries, the blood staining your shirt.

Your one hand on the floor clenches into a fist. You try to remind yourself that you can be better, that there must be something more to all of this than just pray, than to just keep taking what they serve like impotent little ants. The hopelessness starts to creep in, slowly etching itself into your thoughts.

But before it can take hold, you distinguish a face in the shadows. It’s observing as everything around you starts to crumble and in that moment you try to push all that anger onto him as you directly glare into his soul.

And when you see him break open the donation box much later during the humid night, you know you’ve put your faith into the right person.

He tries to leave as silently as he came, but you meet him at the entrance. He holds a crude, dirty children’s bag and you can only assume that’s where he’s keeping the money.

He tries to explain, but you start to approach him which stops his needless rambling. In an act of boldness, you grab his hand in yours and flip it to look clearly at his scars. If he’s uncomfortable, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t even flinch.

“Alpha was right.” You agree. “You do have the hands of a warrior”

You enclose his hand between yours, putting it up against your lips. “I wonder how such gentle hands fight with such ferocity.”

He starts to twitch and as you loosen your grip, expecting him to pull back, he instead cups the side of your face and despite his scarred calloused hands, his touch is pure velvet. His thumb brushes the tears you didn’t notice were starting to fall freely down your cheek.

Please, you pray. Whatever it takes.

“Fight for me.” You croak thickly. “Fight for all of us.”

He clenches his jaw. “I promise you.”

You pull him towards you by grasping his neck and your lips meet in the middle. The kiss is like him. Equal parts sweet as it is harsh. His lips were warm and soft, but the urgency in the way you both kissed each other was anything but. You bury your hand into his hair and feel his curls unmake themselves even further. His smell of soap and sage infiltrates your senses.

It was a dizzying feeling. It’s what you felt while you were dancing exploded ten-fold. It was the culmination of tension and grief exploding into something technicolour. As your noses bump against each other, you think you want to draw more of this kindness from this man.

Your breathing quickens and he groans into your mouth. It’s almost like you two are fighting. With each other, against each other, for each other. Exploring this hungry need has only made you more insatiable.  

And that becomes particularly dangerous, especially when you know he has a job to do.

Reluctantly you pull back. His eyes stay closed and you press your foreheads together, listening to the crackles of the torches around you. “Your emotions are strong.” You quietly whisper. “But do not let them control you. Let them guide you.”

He blinks his eyes open, full of clarity.

Letting each other go hesitantly, you take one last look at him and he at you. “Come back to me,” you say with all the confidence you can muster.

You can tell you’re both skeptical about your claim, but he nods his head anyway. He walks around you and you don’t turn to look at him leave for fear of wanting to hold him back. You hear the creak of the door, but before he can take another step away from you, you mumble “Give them Hell.”

There’s a slight pause before you start to hear the crunching of the ground beneath him, each step lighter than the last until you can no longer hear him creeping into the night.

Please, you pray. Whatever it takes.

- - - - - -

When you see the money-filled bag hanging on the statue the next day, it’s attached with a note.

His presence overflows through your every pore.

Alpha looks at you with a determined expression on their face, as do the other hijra around them.

It seems they don’t just want repayment, they want a reckoning.

They want retribution.

- - - - - -

A/N: Please let me know what you think by leaving a note, comment, or reblog! Or we can just geek out about Monkey Man lol I definitely won’t be opposed to that lol

[acozysoulwrites]

Spider monkey | Sun Wukong x reader

Requested by @kaycode1999 : Could you do one where the reader and Monkey King somehow end up doing the spider-man kiss?

a/n - I loved this idea so fuckin much…

"Just a little bit further" Monkey had said over three hours ago.

You were accompanying him on his journey to defeat one of the most powerful demons in the land. Monkey really didn't want his only… companion (other than stick) getting hurt or worse... killed. However, you were insufferably stubborn.

"Monkeyyy, how much longer" You groan, your feet were aching so badly that you thought you might fall over right here on the path.

The tree leaves rustle and you glance to your left. A quick, red blur passes through a gap in the treeline and you roll your eyes.

"Just a feeew more miles" Monkey calls.

He was lucky that he could swing through the trees, honestly, any other form of travel would be better than walking right about now.

You groan and force yourself to take another step.

"Hey... cheer up, wanna play a game?" Monkey lands next to you with a sly grin plastered on his face.

You aren't sure if you should say yes, but a distraction would do wonders at this point.

"Anything to make this awful hike move faster," You say.

"Great! I'll hide, you seek, but keep walking okay? We don't have all day you know"

Your lips part to speak, but before you get even a mumble out, Monkey has disappeared into the trees with a sneer.

Some time passes as you walk along the path and you haven't heard from Monkey in a while. Only the faint sound of him swinging through the trees could be heard.

Suddenly you hear a loud thud from behind and spin around, ready for a fight. When you don't see anyone, your eyes drop to the ground. Laying there in the dirt is a twig. You spin around and nearly scream.

"Hey," Monkey says, his voice sultry, a smug grin on his upside-down face.

Monkey hangs from a tree, his tail snuggly wrapped around a thick branch that overreaches the road. "Found ya" He coos, reaching out to boop you on the nose.

Your faces are just inches apart, and you can't deny the heat rising in your chest. The two of you had never been this close. His temperature was rising as well, you felt it radiating off him.

You roll your eyes. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Giving myself away, duh. I'm way too good at this whole hide-and-seek thing. You'd never have found me" He boasts, yammering on and on. However, your mind was only on one thing.

You slowly lean in, all the while Monkey still goes on about his perfect hiding skills.

"I mean, c'mon... At least pretend like you know where I am- mmm" His eyes go wide as his words come to a satisfying halt.

Monkey doesnt pull away, instead, he leans into the kiss, his tail losing grip slightly as his body fills with sensations. The hair on his neck stands up slightly as you pull him closer.

"W-What was that for?" He mumbles when you pull away.

"Oh, well you wouldn't shut up, I had to think of something" You tease, this time booping his nose, you smile sweetly as you walk past him.

"What- I-" Monkey hangs there, mouth agape. His heart is beating so fast and he isn't sure if it's because of the stunt you just pulled or if there was too much blood rushing to his head.

He hops down from the tree, his shock still visible. "Hey! You can't just walk away after that, Pebble" He calls, running to catch up with you.

“Try me spider monkey!”

[luvrbug]

Hello I can request a Headcannon from Law, Ace, Luffy having a reader who loves hats, that's how each one would react to seeing the reader wearing someone else's hat. ♥️

THIS IS SO CUTE IM CHEWING ON THIS REQUEST SO HARD :[[[[ !! i don't know what ace's hat's backstory is my apologies. i think he just saw it one day and was like uhh fuck yes ? and stole it.

«─────────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ───────────»

Luffy

▸ Luffy loves his hat. You love Luffy's hat. Luffy loves you. These three key factors lead into one situation; you wearing his hat whenever possible.

▸ His hat is literally the most important thing Luffy owns. It is literally the physical manifestation of his dream, and his "crown".

▸ So, naturally, you getting to wear his hat is the highest privilege. He's essentially trusting you with his dream.

▸ So when Luffy sees you wearing Brook's tophat.. He's a little distressed. Does this mean you like Brook more than him...? :[

▸ Hes not absolutely heartbroken, but it stirs something new and unpleasant in his gut. (jealousy). He plops his hat on your head and everything's fine again :]

Ace + Law under the cut!

Ace

▸ HE IS SO PETTY. AND JEALOUS. AND HE REFUSES TO COMMUNICATE IT LIKE A NORMAL PERSON.

▸ So naturally Ace shows the whole world you're his by placing the biggest statement piece of his outfit on you. The hat.

▸ But if you voluntarily want to wear the hat? Wear a piece of him on you because you just. Like it? Ace is on his KNEES. He struggles to feel wanted and to know that you love having a part of him with you??? Its so good. It soothes his soul.

▸ So of course the minute you meet Sabo, one of the closest people to Ace's heart- You destroy him emotionally. Hes devastated, betrayed, absolutely heartbroken.

▸ How could you wear Sabo's stupid little tophat ??? with the goggles that don't even serve a purpose??? Ace is disgruntled. He's offended. And he will be giving you the silent treatment for an hour tops before he comes crawling back.

▸ His hat is practically shoved onto your head. He's still mad, still has that little green monster clawing at his insides, but he's calmer with his oversized (equally stupid) hat perched on your head.

Law

▸ Law's hat is So important to him. It was given to him by his parents, so naturally to even BEGIN to earn the right to touch his hat is a Long, arduous journey.

▸ But once you've wormed your way into Law's heart- every part of him is yours. Including that sweet, warm hat.

▸ Law loves how you look in any of his clothes. He has a possessive streak a mile long, and no matter how good he is at hiding it he ALWAYS has a little smirk on his face when you wear anything thats his.

▸ The hat just ramps this up to 11. Something That core to his appearance, identity- unmistakably HIS, on you, who is now also unmistakably his? A dream come absolutely true.

▸ So naturally when hes sees the captian of the fucking strawhats putting his .. straw hat on you, Law nearly explodes. The straw hat is unmistakably LUFFY'S. The straw hat that is LUFFY'S, which is now on your head. Law short circuts. Seriously considers ending the alliance here and now by swapping Luffy's head and leg.

▸ He comes to a ... Peaceful? resolution when His hat is placed on its rightful pedestal... and Luffy (and hat) are out of his line of sight.

[fandomnerd9602]

While Gwen was off with the Spider Society, Y/N ends up getting Spider powers and was essentially forced to become a hero and hold down the fort. And let’s just say they’re, initially, not very happy with Gwen once she finally comes back.

Band Mates

Gwen Stacy x Spider!Reader

First Person POV

If it wasn’t the fact that my best friend, Gwen Stacy aka the Ghost Spider, disappeared with that Spider Society that got me down, then it would have to be the other thing that happened less than a week later.

I were investigating Oscorp for a news article for the Daily Bugle, when one of their little spider experiments bit me. Turns out it was part of an experiment to replicate Gwen’s powers. So one spider bite later and now New York has a new spider person guarding it. More often than not I feel like the clean up crew. I mean it’s not all bad, my only job was Uber Eats delivery, so imagine the delight of customers getting their eats delivered by the Night Monkey. Yeah that’s seriously the name I went with. The only name not taken, I think.

And then came today. I was out on patrol, going after the Vulture. Pretty standard stuff when suddenly another set of webbing trapped the criminal.

“And who are you supposed to be?” A familiar voice asks me.

I turn and there she was the Ghost Spider. “Night Monkey” I answer back. “Picking up where you left off”

I tried to swing away but Gwen was persistent, swinging after me. Didn’t take her too long to catch up to me. “Slow down!” she practically ordered me.

“Why should I?” I countered, “you left! And I had to play janitor because of you”

“I get it! You’re mad” she answers back.

Our webs entangled, spinning around each other. I nearly slam into her, I try to hold her at arms length.

“You left, Gwen” i answer.

“Y/N?!” Gwen removed her mask and removed mine. “you’re a-”

“yeah you can blame Oscorp for that one” i sigh. “why’d you leave?”

“I was hurt” Gwen sniffles back a couple tears, “my dad was against me”

“I wasn’t. Nothing you do could turn me against you, Gwen”

“I know. I should’ve taken you with me”

“Why are you back now?”

“They kicked me out.” she huffed, “so much for a new band”

She carried so much hurt, she was still my best friend, my only high school crush. I wrapped a comforting arm around her, trying my best to hug her, “What about our band?”

“In every other universe, Gwen Stacy always falls for Spider-Man and it doesn’t end well”

she sighs, “and if Miguel was right, then it won’t end well for you either.”

“but I’m not Spider Man, remember?” I try to joke with her, “everyone calls me the Night Monkey”

“What?” Gwen laughs at my name. Her smile, it could always brighten the atmosphere.

“It was the only one not taken. I think” i shrug.

“I’m sorry” Gwen looks to my eyesight, and then to my lips. Wait what?

“I’m sorry too” I find myself saying. My spider sense starts going off, but not one of danger. I could feel that Gwen’s was going off too. It’s like our two spider senses were starting to coalesce. Her pupils were beginning to dilate, maybe mine were too.

“You just gonna keep staring, Monkey?” Gwen actually smirks at me. I could practically feel my heart beating out of my chest.

Using the hand I still had wrapped around her, I pulled her into a kiss. Man, it was just as amazing as i thought it’d be. She wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me as tight as possible.

My best friend, I thought, she’s a great kisser. We pulled apart, maybe a little too quickly for my taste, she looked back at me with love in her eyes.

“Get a room, you two” Vulture screamed at us as he flew by.

“To be continued?” Gwen asks with a little giggle.

“Definitely” I found myself smiling back as we slipped on our masks and swung after Toomes.

I guess New York’s got two spider people to look after it: Ghost Spider and the Night Monkey. Quite a power couple if I dare say.

[axinite25]

Yelena wants to be the big spoon but she is, in fact, a bag pack

A bag pack FULL of knives and sarcastic comments that Kate finds way too endearing for her own good

They always swap tho because who could resist cuddling the angry knife bag pack

[paradiqms]

to you, 2000 years from now.

hongjoong x fem!reader.

tags: angst, captain!hongjoong, royalty!reader, betrayals, misunderstandings, mentions of death, cruelty, fluff here n there, fantasy setting, strangers to lovers to enemies to..?

summary: after the death of your parents and near fall of your kingdom, you have no choice but to leave your first love in order to keep the kingdom in balance with you as the new ruler. years later, you see a familiar face - but instead of being in your arms, he's kneeling in front of the guillotine.

word count: 4,9k

currently, one out of ?

“must you follow me wherever i go?” the words intended for the young man tailing behind you fall much harsher than you wished from your lips, but you make no effort to show the growing guilt in your chest.

“of course, your highness.” the one who has been sticking to your side the whole morning answers. his voice cracks as he speaks, and you chuckle underneath your breath as your companion attempts to save his pride by coughing into his fist. “i am your guard, after all. so i –”

“have to protect me just in case anything goes wrong. i know, i know.” you cut the boy off, sighing tiredly afterwards. you’re met with silence instead of a reply, and for the nth time this morning, you feel bad.

“i apologize.” you mumble, opting to turn around and face the young man behind you. he’s taller than you despite being the same age. “i wished not to be so… impatient with you. i know this is simply your job as guard.”

a gentle smile grows on the boy’s pale lips – one that you have grown rather fond of during your several months with him as your personal guard. as much as you enjoy the act of understanding that his smile shows, you wish that he would be more stern with you. which is, unfortunately for you, a rather impossible thing to wish for.

“there’s no need to apologize, your highness.” your guard responds with the words that you expected him to say, and you feel your eye twitch ever so slightly.

“did i not tell you to stop calling me that when we’re alone, my dear yeonjun?” you frown, spitefully adding the name of your guard at the end of your sentence as if you emphasize your own words. yeonjun’s smile merely widens at the sight of your annoyance, which in return annoys you even further.

“i guess it’s my turn to apologize then, your high – ouch!” before he could finish his sentence, you reach up to smack the taller boy atop his head, the sound of his armor rattling as he attempts to soothe the growing ache you caused diminishing as you quickly walk away from your guard.

“silly boy.” you laugh quietly underneath your breath, turning around to see that you’ve lost sight of the brown haired boy clad in strong armor that didn’t suit his youthful look. once you’re sure that you’ve created enough distance from yeonjun, you slow down, coming to a leisure walk amongst the people within the town.

the sea of townsfolk seem not to recognize you, and for that you’re immensely grateful.

the last time you sneaked out of the palace and into town, a crowd of people had decided to follow you and give their greetings – some children even wanted to drag you home with them, insisting that you partake in their little ‘acting gig’ where they pretend to be knights in shining armor protecting the princess from pirates.

your role as the princess made it more realistic and fun, as the children had reasoned. yeonjun had to personally drag you away from the children to take you back to the palace.

this time, however, you decided to borrow an old dress from one of the servants instead of using one form your own closet to blend in with the townsfolk and avoid any attention, as well as a piece of cloth covering the lower half of your face. pretty common choice of ‘disguise’ for royals, but you didn’t have much to work with.

your ears catch the tune of an old folksong played on the familiar sound of a lyre amidst the constant chatter of people around you. several townsfolk seemed to have noticed the melody as well, their faces lighting up as they make their way further into the town square and nearer to the music. you tag along, smiling with excitement.

a crowd of people have gathered around the town square, surrounding a long-haired bard who’s reciting a story (or poem? you’re not quite sure) alongside the soothing melody that he plays on his lyre.

having always a deep interest in song and music despite your title, you find yourself lost within the tale that the bard sings.

oh, the ocean that carries the suffering of he,

who wanders the world to find the stars.

but oh, how he finds himself lost in she,

who has one too many scars.

the moon ties their destinies together,

so cruel, evil and unworthy to forgive.

for how can the cursed and the saint care for each other,

when the heavens have decided only one of them shall live.

with a final strum of his lyre, the bard ends his performance, relishing in the cheers of the crowd that surrounds him. his long hair falls from his shoulders as he bows to his audience.

you, however, aren’t so enthusiastic as you clap for the bard.

‘such a sad story.’ your mind speaks, an unfamiliar ache in your chest as the song repeats itself several times within the confines of your head.

you were far too engrossed with your own thoughts to notice someone quickly pushing their way through the audience, shoving away the townspeople left and right without seemingly a care in the world and leaving the crowd mumbling curses. the person shoves you aside as well, making you loose your balance and causing you to fall backwards onto the muddied ground.

just before you had the chance to curse at the stranger for their audacity, they cut you off.

“i’m so sorry – here, let me help you.” the person says, their words falling from their lips in such a rush to the point you probably wouldn’t have understood if they weren’t leaning down closely to you. you look up at the culprit who dared to shove you and your people away, and you notice how young he looks. he has an arm outstretched in hopes to help you stand back up, but before you could accept the offer, a loud voice shouts from amidst the sea of townsfolk around you.

“there he is, the thieving bastard! get him!”

the young man curses underneath his breath. he gives you a quick glance, his eyes conveying the apology he owes you before he runs off. you watch silently as a small group of other men make their way through the crowd in a way that’s rougher than how the boy earlier had done, sending more people toppling over their feet as they yell for the boy to stop running.

your eyes narrow. the boy was a thief, no doubt about it – and yet, he was kind enough to help you after accidentally causing your fall.

‘he’s a thief.’ you scold yourself, shaking your head in attempt to get rid of the way his hair shined under the sun and how soft his voice sounded when he apologized.

thieving is a crime. thieves are criminals, and the boy is a thief.  a criminal.why should you help him, right? right. you should keep yourself out of trouble and go back to your leisure stroll around the kingdom. don’t think about how young the thief looked like, and how he must have been stealing only to fend for himself – or maybe even his family. don’t think about it, damn it!

the crowd around you begins to scatter, the townspeople returning to their own work once the commotion died down, and you still haven’t gotten up. you turn around to look at the direction the boy ran off to.

you wonder what’s happening to him. has he escaped? have the other men caught up to him? what are they doing to him, if they have..?

“… ugh, fine.” you groan, forcing yourself onto your feet and running in the same way the thief headed off to. you pass several stalls and enter a dark alleyway, the messy prints on the mud underneath you serving as a guide to where the boy must have ran. without another thought, you follow the leads deeper into the alleyway.

you’re unsure of your own direction, head spinning from the amount of turns you’ve made, but judging from the sound of yelling that’s increasing in volume with every turn you make, you think you’re getting closer.

you slow yourself down from running once the loud shouts sound like they’re right around the corner. your heart beats furiously against your chest, and it nearly stops when you hear pained groans after the yelling stops.

“damn thief,” you hear the rough voice of a man in the alleyway to your right, and you slowly creep your way closer to peek by the wall. “think you could steal our hard earned gold coins just like that? fucking amateur.”

the man crouches down, and you cover your mouth to muffle a surprised gasp as the sight of the boy from earlier enters your sight.

he’s been beaten, badly so – his left eye is swollen and colored an ugly dark purple, blood oozing from several cuts on his youthful face and dripping from his nose. the man is lifting him up from his collar, and the boy doesn’t even try to fight back.

you wonder if he’s even able to, at this point.

“too bad the royal guards didn’t catch you first,” the man snarls at the boy, who doesn’t respond. “they would’ve given you a faster and less painful death than what i’m about to do.”

another man reaches for something on his belt, and even from the distance you’re standing at, you can catch the menacing glint of a dagger.

seconds before the man is about to stab the thief right in the chest, he feels something hard hit him at the back of his head.

“ow, what the hell?” the man curses before turning around with a scowl, and he’s met with the sight of you – standing a few feet away, arm trembling as you hold up a pebble above your head, threatening to throw it at the men in front of you.

“unhand him at once!” you shout, ignoring the fact that your voice is shaking. “i will – i will give you more gold coins than what he has stolen. just let him go.”

‘what are you saying?!’ your mind screams at you, knowing well enough that you didn’t bring a single gold coin or anything valuable with you on your stroll. since, y’know, this was just supposed to be a calming and nice stroll around the kingdom – not some rescue mission, damn it.

if the men don’t kill you, then yeonjun definitely will once he finds out what you’ve been up to.

you’re met with nothing but the sound of silence and your own heartbeat in your ears, until one man decides to break it by roughly dropping the thief onto the ground. you wince as you watch how his head thuds on the floor.

“he stole my entire life savings worth of gold coins, girl.” the man says, grabbing the dagger from the other man into his own clenched fist as he slowly approaches you. “you’ve gotta be one of the royals if you’re gonna give me more than that.”

how ironic, you muse to yourself. you take in a deep breath to calm yourself down as you wait in silence for the man to come closer, and you let it go in the form of a scared whimper as you feel the sharp end of the dagger against your stomach.

“so?” the man growls. “where’s the coins, stupid little girl?”

oh, damn it all to hell.

you meet the mans glare with one of your own as you straighten yourself up, tossing away the pebble you were previously holding to take off the cloth covering the lower half of your face.

“in the palace, you ruffian. want me to send it to you by carriage tomorrow?” you spit out, and you feel the dagger move away from your stomach as the man’s eye widen.

“princess?” he staggers back. you notice how the other men behind him tense up as well.

“i – we – i apologize, your highness. i had no idea–”

“save it.” you interrupt, and the man quickly presses his lips into a thin line. “leave, before i report you to the guards and make you spend your entire life in the dungeons for threatening the princess.”

the man mumbles out something under his breath as he scurries off with his head hung low, the other men tailing after him and muttering apologies to you as they pass. once they’re all out of sight, you let out a heavy breath that you’ve been holding.

your knees are shaking and your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest, but you bear it no mind as you hurriedly make your way to the boy who’s still laying down on the dirty ground at the end of the alleyway, his pained groans reaching your ears.

“hey,” you crouch down to him once you’ve fixed back the cloth over your face. “can you hear me? hello?”

the boy merely groans again.

“alright, let’s get you somewhere else.” you mumble, reaching over to lift one of the boys arm to wrap them around your shoulder as your own arm supports him, slowly lifting him up from the ground. fortunately for you, he’s not that heavy.

the thief lets out another pained groan as you drag him along with you out of the alleyway, his head falling forward and swaying around with every shaky step you take. soon enough, you’re out of the dirty alleyways and you arrive at a small, isolated building that stands alone at the edge of the town.

a small sign swings and squeaks from the wind above your head as you stand atop the three steps of stairs leading to the front door. you knock twice.

a moment passes before the door creaks open ever so slightly, and you can barely make out the eyes that stare at you from behind the door due to the darkness from inside the building.

“state your business.” a croaky, low voice comes from the person behind the door. you clear your throat before speaking.

“apologies for the sudden intrusion,” you mumble. “but the stars need your help to shine again.”

the eyes within the darkness widen, and the door slams shut in your face. you wait patiently as the sound of multiple locks being opened from within the building reaches your ears. the door swings open again, and you’re met with a familiar hunched figure of an old lady clad in a black clothing and white hair that grows pass her torso.

“the stars will shine brighter for you,” the old woman steps aside for you to step in, bowing her head as you make your way inside. “your highness.”

“and they will remain so, for eternity.” you mutter out the last part of the secret phrase your parents taught you when you were younger, offering a gentle smile to the lady before she locks up the door again.

the phrase was created by the royals before your generation, serving as a secret code between the royal family and a select few when they are in need of some dire help. back when your kingdom was caught in terrible war, the royal family couldn’t afford to be vulnerable out in the open where enemies and spies could be anywhere, waiting for the moment to take them down.

despite the kingdom has been in wonderful peace for the last 70 years, the royal family still teaches their young regarding the phrase. this is the first time you’ve used it yourself, even though you thought it would be useless when your mother had introduced it to you during your younger years.

“it’s quite a surprise to see you here, dear princess.” the old lady gestures to you once she’s done with all the locks and bolts on the front door. you blink your eyes a few times to adjust your sight in the darkness of the room, the only source of light present being the fireplace that crackles behind you.

“i know,” you admit, earning a fond chuckle from the lady. “but i didn’t know where else to go. i, uh, need some help.” you adjust the boy that’s leaning against you as if to emphasize on your words, and he lets out a low whine in response.

“i can see that.” the lady smiles knowingly before ushering you to come closer. you do so, and she places a gently hand on your back.

“place the lad on one of the beds upstairs, i will prepare some medicine for him and a cup of tea for you.” before you could protest to her last few words, she pushes you towards the flight of spiral stairs that leads to the second floor and quickly walks off to the kitchen.

‘same creepy old lady even after all these years.’ you think to yourself, remembering the first time you encountered her alongside your father when you were a mere little girl. your father wished to introduce you to her – isolde, if you remember her name correctly – as one of the royal family’s trusted few. apparently, during her youth, she had helped the former kings and queens seek refuge within her home at times of war or simple hardship, and she remains true to her duties till this day.

you carry the thief up the stairs with much effort, the wooden steps creaking loudly to the point you wince at the noise, afraid the steps might break in half at any moment. the fact that the dim lighting from the dusty windows on the wall is the only thing keeping you from tripping and falling on the stairs does not help, either.

once you arrive at the top of the stairs and into the second floor, you’re met with a bit more adequate lighting thanks to the lamps on the wall. you push open one of the doors leading to a spacious bedroom, the creaking noises making you shudder. does isolde never oil her doors?

carefully, you place the thief onto the queen sized bed in the middle of the room, watching him lay down on the soft mattress as you stretch your back with a loud groan. you swear you can hear your bones cracking.

“hah, this is the first and last time i’m carrying someone so far.” you complain. obviously, the thief doesn’t respond, and you’re starting to worry. all this while he’s been really quiet other than the occasional groans he makes. can he even speak anymore, you wonder? is he too weak to speak? did the ruffians break with voice box?

“…hey.” you reach out to the boy, gently shaking him by the shoulder. “how are you feeling? are you okay?”

you receive no response. your heart sinks.

“hey, don’t you dare die on me after i carried you here!” you shake the boy harder, this time with your hands on both of his shoulders as you lean over his body from the side of the bed. “c’mon, please say something, anything at all.”

a moment passes by. you notice how the boy’s lips are parting, as if he’s trying to finally say something, and you wait in anticipation.

“thank… you.” he croaks out. you blink, leaning back in mild surprise before smiling down at him from behind the cloth that covers the lower half of your face.

“don’t mention it,” you respond. “i’m glad you’re alive. i have to take my leave now, please rest well.”

before you could remove your hands from the boy’s shoulders, he catches one of your wrists in his hold, surprising you.

“come… visit,” he speaks, gently squeezing onto your wrist. “next time… please.”

and so you do.

you visit the boy during his stay at isolde’s house, time after time. you come to learn that his name is hongjoong – a young man who comes from a poor family consisting of his parents, his older brother, and himself. he resorted to thieving when his family couldn’t afford to buy food to support themselves anymore. he admitted that he hated stealing during one of your talks with him during a rainy night, and that he could’ve easily fought back against the ruffians who beat him that day, but decided not to.

“i deserved it,” hongjoong had said that night, teeth sinking into the apple isolde gave him. “i’d be lying if i said i don’t feel bad for stealing.”

you didn’t respond to him as you sat next to each other on the queen sized bed, but your heart broke.

frankly, you didn’t know how to respond. how could you, when you’ve been born into a lineage of royalty? how could you say anything to the young man who has betrayed his own morals to fend for his family, when you had feast upon feast each day within the castle walls?

“joong,” you spoke up after a moment, the nickname you made for the boy falling easily from your lips as if you had known him for years. “do you know who i am?”

hongjoong had looked at you weirdly, raising his eyebrow in question as he took another bite into his apple.

“uh, obviously?” he replied as he chewed. you had smiled at how adorable he looked. “you’re byeol, the dumb girl who could’ve gotten herself killed while trying to save me.”

byeol. you feel a muscle in your face twitch. you had given him a fake, random name that first came to your mind when he asked during one of your first talks together. you were already quite suspicious as he didn’t recognize who you are when you didn’t cover your face one day, but you initially brushed it off as some kind of short-term memory loss due to the beating he got.

but weeks passed, and he still doesn’t have a clue on who you are. that’s when you knew he was lying about one thing to you.

hongjoong is not from your kingdom, despite him telling stories of how he is.

it bothered you a bit at the start, but then you came to realize it’s quite refreshing to have someone be clueless on your identity – to have someone be naturally them, with no titles and no courtesies.

so you decided to lie to him too.

“yeah,” you flashed him a smile. “that’s me, i’m byeol.”

weeks turned into months, and you’re beginning to see hongjoong every day now ever since he recovered entirely from his injuries. since you’re adamant on keeping your identity a secret to him, you’ve convinced your parents to leave you out from anything that involved showing your face to the public as princess. they questioned you once, and you responded with a simple shrug, leaving the conversation afterwards. your parents didn’t question you again during the following days.

you’ve also started sneaking out of the palace every night to meet up with hongjoong, with the guards (including yeonjun, thankfully) either asleep in their own homes or asleep whilst they’re on duty, making your job so much easier.

“glad i’m out of that haunted house,” the light haired boy shivers as he sits beside you, the soft candlelight offering its shine to illuminate his features before your eyes. “did you know she peeks into my room in the middle of the night sometimes? creepy old lady, i swear –”

“isolde’s just making sure you’re okay, idiot.” you nudge against him roughly, making him almost fall off the small bed the two of you are currently sitting on.

“okay, but that doesn’t make it any less creepier!” hongjoong protests, and you throw your head back with a loud laugh at how genuinely scared he seems to be around isolde.

hongjoong smiles ever so fondly as he watches you laugh on his small bed inside his cramped room. well, it’s not quite a room, honestly – it’s more of an attic that sits on top of one of the taller buildings within the kingdom that he turned into his own little space, filling it up with numerous books and papers scribbled with poems that express his feelings.

most of them were made for you, but he won’t tell you that. at least not now.

in his hands is another piece of parchment, already crumpled from the way he’s practically gripping onto it nervously.

“she’s a sweet lady if you get to know her more, really.” you wipe away a stray tear that fell from your eye from laughing so hard before leaning backwards against the wall behind you, the funny feeling of prickly wood against your back.

“uh, right,” you giggle at the way hongjoong scrunches his nose when he speaks. “but enough of her – let’s talk about something else.”

you straighten yourself up at hongjoong’s words, a smile on your lips as you’re eager to hear what he has in store for you. you know he enjoys writing in his free time, judging by his works that he has pasted on the walls of his room as well as the ones stacked on his small work table, and it makes you admire him more.

you wish, oh how you wish, that you could live as free as him. a part of you envies the young man and his freedom, all while you’re tied to responsibility ever since your birth. as the first and only child of the king and queen, you’re expected to rule over the kingdom once you’re of age, and it’s the only thing you’ve ever known.

until you met hongjoong. dear, dear hongjoong who doesn’t have a single clue on who you are and expects absolutely nothing from you - except for you to laugh at his lame dad jokes, dance with him in the rain until the both of you are sneezing away the next day, and cheer for him once he’s done reciting another one of his poems.

“what do you have this time, oh dear poet?” you look at the light haired boy expectantly. hongjoong is grateful that the only source of light in his room is the little candle next to his bed, so you won’t be able to see how red his face is right now.

with a dramatic clear of his throat that makes you chuckle, hongjoong straightens out the paper in his hands before reading the words that contain his whole heart within the letters.

my dear starlight, oh how you’ve shined your way into my life,

so bright and beautiful, the north star that leads me home.

one day, i wish to call you my wife,

and to be together for the longest of eternities that the universe has ever known.

“joong, oh my god–”

“i’m not done yet, dearest.”

“okay!”

hongjoong’s laughter sounds like bells in your ears. you gesture him to keep going despite the fact that you feel like you’re about to explode, and he continues.

may our love last, past the final breaths of the immortals,

until even the sun and moon have met their dues.

for with you by my side, not a moment feels dull,

and i will say the words that i have only said to very few…

“i love you.” hongjoong breathes out the last words quietly, eyes leaving the paper in his hands to look at you with hope in his eyes; he’s surprised to see tears in yours.

“hey, oh my god, please don’t–”

the young man is unable to finish his sentence when you lean in to catch his lips in a kiss, uncaring towards the slightly salty taste from the tears that fall from your eyes as he wraps his arms around your figure to pull you closer.

you lean against him, fingers gently carding through the tangles in his light hair as you pour your whole heart into the kiss, where hongjoong gladly accepts it all, feeling as if he’s drowning from your affection. his hands wander around to slip underneath the thin material of your top, cold fingers meeting your warm sides and making you shiver in his arms.

you’re the first to pull away and catch your breath. hongjoong keeps his attention on your lips for a moment before gazing into your eyes, and he can’t grasp how beautiful you look even with the simple fire that blazes on the wick of the candle beside his bed.

“… does this mean you love me too?” hongjoong breathes out, earning himself a slap on his shoulder from you.

“of course, idiot.” you grin, heart softening impossibly so as you watch how hongjoong smiles back at you, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

“then i wish you’d really stay with me for the longest of eternities, starlight.”

you hum, allowing yourself to lay down against hongjoong’s chest as he caresses your hair, the feeling of his gentle hands playing with your locks lulling you to sleep.

“anything for you, joong.” you mumble, falling into slumber with a smile on your lips. “anything for you.”

for the first time in your life, you fall asleep outside the palace walls and in the arms of your love.

as you listen to the sound of hongjoong’s beating heart, you fail to hear the sobs of the heavens.

next.

[chaithetics]

now i'm dreaming about holding Kid's hand weeks after a match and with no fights in sight just him nearly healed from what was once never ending violence

Peace in Your Touch

Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x reader Word count: 1.3K Warning: Really just a fluffy little fic! Mentions of canonical past violence. A/n: Sorry for how long this took! I hope you enjoy it! I think this is a little bit of a different style to some of the other fics but I hope everyone enjoys this. Comments and reblogs are appreciated! Please validate me beautiful people🫶

A gentle hum buzzes in the air outside, it’s relaxing and pleasant. There’s not a lot else to steal you away from his presence, it’s all that there is right now and it’s what you love. You’d spend your whole life cuddling into him if you could, he wouldn’t protest that, in fact, Kid would wholeheartedly welcome it. 

You remember the first time you saw him, his lean body bloodied up, the awful metallic smell of blood caked to his skin and hair, it assaulted your nostrils. How his hair was damp and how the sweat glistened on his toned muscles, how it shone under those lights. It would be impossible to forget how vulnerable and frightened those big, beautiful, expressive brown eyes of his looked and how you felt butterflies in your stomach when seeing the perfect set of lashes he had to frame them. 

It was a contrast to now, the man laying down with you, your sweet pillow, quietly humming as he caressed your forearm with the most gentle touch. There was not a drop of blood on his face, no cuts on his cheekbones, not a single bruised knuckle. You both knew there was still pain, some days would be harder than others, but that’s always how it is, isn’t it? But there was a look of warm peace in those pools of brown you always got lost in. 

But still, not so long ago, you weren’t sure if it would ever end. You panicked over it, would pace and bite your nails. It was a real worry, one that made you wonder if those months ago, if the man who would come back from that seedy hotel would be anything more than a ghost to haunt you. One with blood-stained hands, bruised cheekbones, and a look of only pain. 

He’d come back though. Revived somehow. Surviving the impossible, but that was in Kid’s nature after all. You knew that. 

You still panicked at first, when he came through that door like the nights before you went into autopilot mode, something took over and responded to do everything right. You’d seen him with blood, fixed up more than your fair share of cuts and bruises but you’d never seen this amount of blood. 

It was a terrifying time but life continued. It’s what it does, always has and always will. 

There was shock and tears at the start. It had been minutes at first. Minutes when you felt the blood travelling in your veins and arteries, you could hear your heart stressfully beating in your ears. It became quiet hours as there were no words for what would happen. Those hours soon became days of finding each other's footing in this world again, then weeks of learning how to breathe, of soft kisses and affirmations in the night. 

It had now been months and here you were. Cuddled into him. Your chin rests against his chest as you reach up to gently play with his soft dark strands, you can smell the coconut oil and inhale its soft scent in. You can’t help but think how much nicer it is than when it was always just blood and sweat mixing together. 

You hear him let out a soft exhale and his eyes close as he relaxes into the most peaceful state possible as your fingers comb through his hair. He melts into the gentle touch, he hadn’t been met with this gentleness and kindness for so long before you. He had been touch-starved, before you had come into his life and made everything better and brighter, the only physical contact he’d received was that of closed fists, hits to wound for the cheers of a crowd. 

He still is a man of few words, but each time he does you listen to make sure you can remember the curve of his mouth with each consonant and how every word sounds in his quiet, soft voice. You loved his voice, you loved it so much you’d pay for him to speak more, you’d happily sit there for a whole day to listen to him read a phone book, an appliance manual, anything. You’d happily listen, but you also knew he only spoke when something needed to be said, you could live with that. You were more than content to just hear the words he needed to say. 

You watch his face as you play with his hair, he’s relaxed and he looks so beautiful with his eyes closed like that, completely lost in your gentle touch. He doesn’t say a word but they’re not needed. He’s happy, he’s calm, he feels at peace now that this cycle of never ending violence has closed. You gently trail your fingers down from his soft raven locks across his cheek, he gasps and tilts his head slightly and you watch him as his beard tickles and scratches your fingertips. It’s impossible not to smile at that feeling. 

Fingers continue to run down until you meet his arm, they’re still toned and incredibly strong. He holds you in them at night and nothing has ever made you feel as safe. You reach his large hand and caress the back of it gently, you let out a hum as you feel it in yours. He blinks and watches your beautiful face as you look down at his hand, he’s never seen anyone so radiant, you shine more than the sun does for him, and you’ve kept him warm and bathed in light ever since he met you all that time ago. You keep caressing his hand as you hold it in yours, you run the pads of your index and middle fingers along his palm, tracing invisible lines, creating a map of who he is just to make sure you never lose him. “Have you ever thought about how perfectly your hand fits in mine?” He asks, his voice is a little gruff as it’s the first time he’s spoken in easily some hours. 

His voice brings you slightly out of the trance you were in and you look up at his face. You smile as you look into those doe eyes that melt your heart all over again. You nod as you feel your cheeks heat up, you keep absentmindedly holding his hand and tracing patterns. 

“Yes, I was just thinking about that. I think about it often.” You admit as you glance from his face back down to his hand and smile at the sight of your hands joined together. 

He smiles at that, your smile is perfect. It’s everything to him, it makes him feel warm inside each time, like a light has been switched on. He rubs his thumb over your hand and lets out a small hum, it makes you smile and you watch his thumb as you cuddle into him more. Kid then brings your hand that had been holding his, up to his lips, his mouth brushes against your hand and he places a soft kiss there. You smile and feel your cheeks heat up more, he still gets such a reaction out of you with the most simple things. It makes you smile in the most silly way. After a moment his lips have left your hand and he kisses your lips, you kiss him back gently and hold his hand again as you two do. You wouldn’t have this any other way, these peaceful afternoons are perfect and they’re perfect because of him. You both provide a comfort and warmth to the other that’s needed, you both are seen and loved. 

[ashsimpsalot]

Mera naam... (Monkey man Kid X Reader)

A/n: uhhhh idk if I like it as much as coconut & honey but enjoy!

'you should never lie'

his mother once told him with angry eyes that he hated to see so much. When Kid was just 8 years old, he had lied to his poor mother about going to play near the river just in front of their humble home, instead, going off far away into the market because he wanted to buy the bangle she's been eyeing for a while.

He's been a proper good boy, he swore, he helped Mr Deepesh, their next door neighbour, by cleaning up his chicken coop for money. He didn't mean to worry her.

'You shouldn't lie to the people you love, even when you think it's for a good reason, a lie is a lie,' she had worriedly say while hugging her boy to her chest.

He didn't think those words would haunt him 20 years later. Kid didn't even mean to lie to you, he didn't even mean to fall for you, but he had, and his lies only bury him into a deeper hole.

"Bobby? You're ready to go?" your sweet voice snapped him out of his thoughts, the beer he's been nursing while you pack up the kitchen still in his hand.

"yeah," he nods, giving you a small smile. You wrapped your hands around his arm so easily as if you've been doing it for years, in reality it's only been 4 months.

4 months of lies

4 months of love

His mind wandered back to how he got here, with your hands wrapped around his arm, heading for your motorcycle. Was it that night? When he first entered his shift, he noticed you eyeing him. He didn't think much of it, you were a chef after all. You could've just been curious about the new staff.

Was it when he keeps staring at you too? Unintentionally?

But it's definitely when you start smiling at him. He's never had any other thought than revenge then this.. You... You happened.

"hey handsome, where's your mind travelling to?" you asked so sweetly he didn't even mind. Kid didn't know much about himself but he knew he hated when anyone else interrupt his thought process, not you though, never you.

Kid smiled and shook his head. "nowhere, right here," he covered it up with a quick peck on your lips and took your helmet from you, placing it onto your head and pinning it on for you, then with a stupid smile on his face he lifted the visor to boop your nose. You chuckled.

Fuck, is this love? This overwhelming feeling over the slightest thing you do?

He put on his own helmet and got on the bike, waiting till you get on too. His waist never felt so empty until you wrapped your arms around them.

4 months ago he didn't even have his own room, now he's heading to "our store" getting off the bike and ordering "the usual" and going straight to "our spot"

He doesn't even know who he is anymore.

Your kiss on his lips brought him back to reality.

"congrats, baby, on making it to VIP floor." you said with a smile on your lips.

If only you knew why he wanted to be on VIP floor so bad.

"thank you, jaan," he whispered softly, arms around your waist, swaying left to right lightly as if dancing to a song. He leaned down and kissed you again. "what's this? What's wrong?" damn you, you always somehow knew, your finger tracing his eyebrows as if to pull the frown out of his face.

He didn't know what to say. Tell you what? He's not at all who you think he is? He's plotting to kill a man? Burn the hotel? Kill one of the most influential fucking man in India?

"hey, you can tell me, Bobby, I'm here," you called that name so lovingly he had to physically fight from flinching.

In a perfect world where he isn't such a coward he'll open his mouth and tell you the truth but the truth is he's just that, a coward.

"i swear it's nothing, jaanu, just... Tired," he smiled and hugged you burying his nose in your neck, scared that he'll forget what you smell like once you find out who he is.

Your fingers snaked into his curls, playing with them like always, like it's yours, like he's yours.

"I've got you, always," you whispered into his ear, planting a soft kiss after.

He hope you meant that

Because after almost 2 months of disappearing, hiding from the police in the temple with the hijras, he's back, at your house, knocking.

You opened the door, you looked great but your eyes looks almost dead, somber.

"jaanu," that's all he could whisper, seeing you again is...

You tried to close the door but his reflexes made him able to hold the door open.

"please, please just let me explain myself"

You looked at him and scoff. "explain what? I don't even know who you are, what could you possibly say to me? What was your plan? Kill Rana and pin it on me or something? Is that it?" your voice gets shakier and shakier by each sentence, your grip on the door loosen. Kid quickly shook his head.

"no, no, never, jaanu," he had wrapped his arms around your crying figure, his body is half through the door, cupping your cheek and tenderly caressed your tears away.

"I trusted you! I loved you!" you cried out and all he could do was hold onto you while you smack your fists on his chest again and again.

"I know, i know," he whispered, he lead you inside as you limped against him.

On the couch he held you, tighter than usual, he lets you cry onto his chest, not caring about the condition of his shirt.

"you didn't call, you didn't explain, you just vanished, I thought you fucking died!" you cried out.

"I know jaan, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" thats all he can offer. He kept whispering apologies and sweet nothings into your ear until you end up falling asleep on his chest. He laid you down on the couch, planted a soft kiss on your forehead and went to the kitchen. Skillfully manoeuvring through your kitchen, making a meal as he's been there countless of time. He didn't keep track of time, only glancing at the clock when he hears a croak of your voice calling his 'name'.

"I'm here jaan," Kid said walking towards the couch to see your eyes teared again.

"I thought you left again," you said with a whine in your voice, he sat next to you, arm pulling your towards him to kiss your head. "I'm here," he repeated.

"I went to make you some food, it's pretty early I don't think you've eaten," he explained, you simply nodded.

"I... I want you to explain to me who you are and what's happening." you said voice beyond tired.

"my name isn't Bobby,"

"yeah no shit," you scoffed, he only nodded, he's glad really, you're letting him hold you, touch you that's a good sign, right?

" my name... Is Kid. I worked at Queenie's hotel because I'm... Plotting revenge on Rana and Baba shakti. For killing my mother." his voice grew quieter and quieter. The obvious pain in his voice when he mentioned his mother.

"my hands," you looked at those hands, his scarred hands he meant, the ones you would plant kisses on after a night of passion, the ones you loved so much. "they got hurt when I tried to put out the fire my mother was set on... By Rana Singh," he said, face grew harder, voice turned colder.

You stared into his eyes. "Kid," you tried calling his name. He looked at you, all attention on you as if nothing else matters.

"I swear I didn't mean to rope you into this. I didn't mean to hurt you, I couldn't... I couldn't stay away from you, I tried. You consume me, my thoughts, I've never thought of anything else but revenge all my life and you walked into it and make me feel alive again. As if I could have any other life than just death after revenge. I never wanted to live but when I hold you I feel this fear of death that I've never felt before. Understand that all was real, my feelings for you was real, is real," he begged, his hands on your cheeks again.

"but you tried to kill him anyway, why?"

He shook his head. "when I saw him. When I saw that bastard I lost it. Why does he get to live his life while my mother is ashes somewhere on the forest floor?" he grunted, face angered.

You do what you always does, your finger start tracing his eyebrows, his face visibly soften. Like he could breathe again. He took your other hand and kissed it, leaning into your touch. He had been craving you, and you knew. "you're going after him again aren't you?"

"yeah" was all he could breathe out.

You sighed but you understood. The rage he has, it's all he knows.

"will you come back?"

His face lighten. "you want me to?" he asks, hopeful.

"always, always come back to me."

"but I'll be a fugitive by then," he said worried, he's not sure worried that you'll change your mind or that you'll be a fugitive too if you chose to follow him.

You shook your head. "I don't care, come back, we'll run together, I rather not live without you by my side. But Kid.."

"hm?" he asked, looking at you intently with your hands on his. "don't lie to me ever again. Ever." you warned.

He nodded his head and pulled you into him. "never, jaanu." he kissed you deeply, deeper than he ever did that day, lead your body the way he missed. He devoured you full that day, passion spilling into physical touches. He need you to understand his love. He needs you to scream his name. His real name.

[jpxfordsstuff]

Shout out to the person who made this idea and to all the people who made such fine angst arts about this. You all made me bawl my eyes out badly you little shits.

I’m bringing the Jiallante angst to tumblr cause I’m suffering on Twitter and I’m positive that yall can do some diabolical shit here with it too.

COMMON GODZILLA TUMBLR HURT US GOOD WITH THIS! 

[cherryblossom-enthusiast]

Kinda impulsively maybe sorta want to write a fanfic about The Kid from Monkey Man since seeing it in the theater last night. Someone stop me💀

[nanaslutt]

Can we get a part 2 of when reader asks satoru and suguru if they fucked before

of course ml!! tysm for asking <3

part 1 here~

contains: fem reader, fluff, crack, choking, hair pulling, anal sex (gojo gets fucked) spanking (geto spanks gojo once), dirty talk, overstimulation, dacryphilia if you squint, dare i say sub satoru, sub/dom dynamics if you squint, suguru and reader are competitive, u tag team gojo together

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“so, when we’re you guys gonna tell me you’ve fucked before?” you asked, raising your eyebrows

gojo froze in place, pausing his efforts to get a towel to clean you up, he slowly turns to you, faux innocence on his stupidly pretty face, a big hand coming to rub the back of his neck

both you and geto stare at him, a smirk plastered on sugurus handsome features, heavy hand holding up his head, awaiting his response,

“now what on earth put that idea in your pretty little head?” he questions, hand falling on his hip sassily as he does an absolutely awful job lying

“oh i don’t knoww,” you drawl, pretending to think, “maybe geto telling you he was going to fuck you like it was the most normal thing in the world,” you scrunched your nose, shrugging

“but what do i know!” your eyebrows raised, suppressing a smile,

“nothing, you know nothing,” he replied, wiggling his finger back and forth in front of him like a child

“don’t tell me you forgot satoru, you might hurt my feelings.” geto teased, from his place between your calves, tilting his head to the side, “i know we were a little tipsy, but you told me i was an unforgettable fuck.” he pouted, faking offense, “you weren’t lying to me were you?”

satoru’s hand still on his hip like the sassy man he was, his mouth just flopping open and closing like a fish out of water, trying to think of a quick retort but failing to come up with anything, because the raven haired man was right

he was a truly unforgettable fuck

“now my feelings are hurt, he didn’t say I was an unforgettable fuck..” you pouted, crossing your arms over your bare chest,

“your mouth almost sucked the soul out of me,” he echoed from the hall

he had taken the opportunity of getos attention on you while he was ‘consoling’ you to slip out of the room, walking back in with a few damp towels, “course you’re an unforgettable fuck, way more than that monkey brained freak,” he hisses at geto, sitting next to you on the bed, using the warm towel to wipe his cum from your cheeks,

“oh? really?” geto let his head fall from his hand, landing against your knee, squinting his eyes at satoru while the blonde continued cleaning down your body, wiping up any fluids the two men had left

“think i remember making you cum..how many times was it again? 4? you were shooting blanks before i was even done with you” he smiles, rubbing your knee fondly with his strong hand while staring at gojo challengingly,

gojo looks away from your breasts, staring back into geto’s deep brown eyes,

“n they only made you cum once..” suguru mumbles into your knee,

“woah! woah, okay, I didn’t know i was competing with you in the first place!” you defend yourself, front half of your body shooting up, making gojo sigh as you accidentally knocked his hand back, “‘s not about quantity anyways, it’s about quality” you said smugly,

“n toru here, said I almost made him die so id say my quality is michelin star,” you proclaimed, narrowing your eyes at him before gojo pushed ur torso back down,

“i’m surrounded by a buncha babies jesus christ,” gojo shakes his head, pulling your leg out of sugurus grasp to access your leaking cunt better, pressing the harsh cloth against you and wiping you as gently as he could,

“sorry,” he winced for you in sympathy when you groaned out a protest, trying to close your legs on his hand at how painfully sensitive the rough towel made you feel, “anyways, you’re both good in bed, kay?” he continues,

“when suguru fucks me, it feels like my fucking guts are getting all messed up to make room for his stupidly big cock,” looking up through his lashes at sugurus smug expression, then back down to focus on what he was doing before making eye contact with you,

your arms still crossed over your chest, “n your throat squeezes me so fucking good i thought i was seein the pearly gates,” hand coming up to pinch your cheek, discarding the towel somewhere on the floor, standing once more to look for someone’s shirt on the floor he can put on,

“ ‘fucks’ as in you’ve had sex multiple times?” you stared in disbelief between the two of the large men, before settling your eyes on suguru

continuing your teasing you spoke up again, “and my compliment still sounded better,” you challenged him, a smug looks gracing your features

“you think so?” the raven haired man scrunched his eyebrows together, before turning his head to look straight at gojo’s supple bent over ass as he picked up a shirt and started to pull it over his head, “well, only one way to be sure which of us is really better.” he says to you quietly before standing

coming up behind gojo and grabbing his raised arms, preventing him from putting on his shirt, “hold that thought satoru, we’re in the middle of a little debate right now” yanking the shirt from satoru’s hands and throwing it back to its prior home on the floor,

“think you can help us? hmm?” he whispers, right into the shell of his best friends ear, sending goosebumps down his neck, “we’ll make it worth your while.”

———————————————————————

almost two hours later and the three of you were still in the same room, on the same bed,

gojo on his back, suguru fucking his cock right into his prostate as you face gojo, bouncing on his overstimulated dick, a thick ring of yours and his combined cum on the base of his overstimulated cock,

“c-cant cum anymore p-please- haaah- fuck please!” gojo whimpers out, thrashing his head back and forth on the sheets as fat tears drip down his face, making his cheeks shine under the light, “‘s too much ‘m too sensitive, ohmygodd” he drags, curses spilling from his lips one after another, his hold on your grip sure to leave nasty bruises as his hips fuck into your warm cunt without his brains permission,

“not till you tell us who’s better,” geto emphasizes with a heavy thrust, hand coming up to choke you out while he gives gojos poor hole the meanest treatment,

“‘s me right? ‘ve made you cum inside me so many times.” you slur, voice strained from getos rough grip on your throat

“bold of you to think that was your doing,” geto scoffs at you, “cmere,” he pulls your head back to press your lips together, other hand interlacing with gojos on your hip

satoru whines underneath the two of you, watching you makeout and feeling your cunt pulse around him because of suguru’s expert tongue work in your mouth had him spiraling

your hands coming up to grab geto’s wrist while he hums into the kiss, biting your lip between his teeth and pulling on it, letting it go before he chases after it and connects your lips once more

“‘m gunna cum again- please fuck- nggghhh i c-cant cum again,” gojo whines, squeezing getos hand and your hip for support as he’s falling into yet another orgasm and fast,

suguru pulls away from the kiss, releasing his grip on your neck as he pushes your lower back down twords gojos chest, “yes you can,” he growls

the raven haired man grabs your hair by the roots and pushes your face into satorus, “help him through it baby,” not needing to be told twice, you grab gojos cheeks with both your hands and slot your lips against his,

“mmmmph- mmm- can-t- p-please i-“ his protests being cut off by your lips, not letting him catch a breath

“got you, cmon” you comfort him in between your assault on his lips, geto reaching between his bestfriend and your body, finding your neglected clit, and rubbing sloppy circles on it, helping you get closer to your own high

“right there with you,” geto grits his teeth, resisting the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and tip his head back, so he can watch the show unfolding in front of him,

“gonna fill up this tight ass while you cum inside them, okay? and you’re gonna take everything we give you, right?” geto’s hips losing their rhythm, teetering on the edge of his own orgasm

gojo just whimpers into your mouth, hes trying to speak, he really is, but it’s all too much, he’s completely fucked out

“need to hear you say it satoru,” he emphasizes with a mean thrust, fucking impossibly deeper into his tight hole,

getos hand rubbing sloppily on your clit almost becomes too much, “yes! yesyes please ohmygod- gonna take it- shit-“ gojo’s whiney voice gets out just before he feels your cunt start to squeeze him,

“toru! fuuuuck me!” you whine, the blondes hips mindlessly fucking up into you helping you ride out your high as he cums so fucking hard, bordering on painful as spurt after spurt of his warm seed fills you once more,

and he’s gasping, barely coherent broken moans of both of your names on satoru’s tongue

geto not far behind you as he stills, balls deep inside gojos ass, the last push he needed seeing the two of you cum all over each other,

“yesssss fuuuuck” he clenches his teeth together hard, toothy grin emerging on his face, finally letting his head fall back, eyes following suit, rolling to the back of his head, “take it f-fucking t-take it.” fucking each rope of his cum deep into gojo’s ass

all three of you bask in the aftershocks of your intense orgasms, core clenching and unclenching around gojo’s length as you finally come down, picking your head up from gojos neck and smiling at his current state,

he was sniffling and gasping, red faced, tears decorating his lashes, making them look like glitter, he appeared more fucked out than ever

geto behind him slowly pulls out his softening cock, and gojo lets out a long groan of overstimulation when he does so, digging his fingers into the fat of your sides and wincing, “fuck, please don’t move yet, might pass out if you do” he says to you, his poor dick crying for relief, still snug inside your pussy, twitching every so often against your walls

you giggle, peppering kisses all over his face, he lets his eyes shut, finally relaxing a little as he relishes in the feeling of your soft lips on his skin,

suguru coming around to sit by his head

when you stop your assult of kisses on his porcelain face geto grabs gojos cheek furthest away from him and makes him turn his head into his thick thigh, “so,” geto starts, rubbing his thumb on gojos cheek, “who was better?” he asks, cocky smile finding home once more on his face

gojos eyes shoot open, looking at him slightly panicked, squeezing your upper thighs for support before he speaks, looking back between the two of you,

“i….im afraid if i don’t answer we will never leave this room.” he gulps

geto confirms his fears, tilting his head to the side, face sporting the fakest smile of comfort gojo has ever seen, “you would be absolutely right.”

[babyleostuff]

― BROKEN CAMERAS

𝜗𝜚 THEME: fluff, domestic vibes, absolutely whipped kim mingyu 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: dad!mingyu x mom!reader 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 1.2k

⦗💌 ⦘in which your little girl wants to take a picture of you and mingyu but drops the camera she stole from him in the process

„i was thinking,” mingyu murmured into your hair and turned the volume of the tv down, „that we could go to the farmer’s market tomorrow. since i don’t have any schedules, y’know.” 

you peeled your eyes from the screen and looked up at your husband from where your head was resting on his chest and nodded immediately, as if you’d ever say no to a day out with him and your daughter. „sounds perfect,” you sighed happily and fixed the blanket that mingyu wrapped you in some time ago. „maybe we’ll manage to find some vintage frames to match those in the living room.” 

he hummed and brushed his nose against your cheek. „just… this time we have to avoid the section where they keep the plushies.” 

ah yes, the plushies. 

your little girl’s current hyperfixation and your husband’s cause of nightmares. not that you minded, there was something endearing in a 6 foot something man sitting in a circle of bears and unicorns drinking tea from a miniature teacup. 

you smirked and lifted your head. „but she’ll be devastated, honey,” you fake-pouted.

she wouldn’t though, not really. your little girl has had her dad wrapped around her little finger since day one and she was a very smart kid, so figuring out how to get her dad to do anything for her wasn’t that difficult. she’s had the puppy-eyes technique figured out for a long time now, which… she used a lot to her advantage. 

mingyu groaned and lowered his head, bumping it against your shoulder. „there’s literally no room left in her bedroom. last night, when i was kissing her goodnight, i tripped over at least three of them!” he whined.  

that was very much true. you spent fifteen minutes this morning trying to find one of her shoes amongst the mess of unicorns of all shapes and sizes, and all you found in the end was a sock that you had been looking for for the past month. it didn’t help that soonyoug bought her tiger plushies every other week, not to mention seungcheol who loved spending his money on your daughter for some reason. 

but you couldn't help but throw your head back and laugh at your husband wholeheartedly. „gyu, you’re capable of tripping over air, it doesn’t count in your case,” you giggled and ran your fingers through his messy hair, pushing back the few curly strands that fell over his eyes. “besides, she’ll find a way to get those plushies either way. it’s not like you’ll ever say no to her.”  

you could feel your husband’s pouty lips against your collarbone as he said, “you’re right. but it’s unfair that mr.unicorn gets all the cuddles now. even that ugly monkey that looks like it had been through a car crash and a bad lip injection is more loved than i am.” 

heavens, sometimes you wondered who the real baby in your family was. 

“gyu, listen to me,” you took his face in your hands and peeled him away from you, “stop overreacting-,”. 

“but what if she’s all grown up now and won’t-,”. 

“she’s three, kim mingyu. besides, she loves you, you dumbass,” you ran your thumb over his cheek, though that didn’t seem to convince him. “she’s a daddy’s girl, okay? trust me, i am the one who should be complaining about the lack of cuddles,” you said and smoothed the crease between his brows.

“if you say so,” he sighed, and nuzzled his cheek into your hand. “but-,”. 

suddenly, out of nowhere, you heard a loud bang behind you, like something fell and... glass broke? mingyu being mingyu, almost fell off the couch, but you were quick to turn around to inspect where the sound came from. 

and your heart almost broke when you saw what, or rather who, was standing behind the couch.

"oh, honey," you cooed.

your little girl was standing in the middle of the room, clad in her pink nightgown mingyu had bought her on one of his trips abroad, only instead of the bright smile that always graced her face, there were tears in her gorgeous, brown eyes.

"what the?" your husband murmured next to you. “is that my camera?” 

your daughter’s eyes widened in panic as she looked at him. “‘m sorry, daddy,” her voice wobbled in the most heartbreaking way possible. the little girl’s tiny hands were clutching onto the neck strap that was supposed to be connected to the camera. “didn’ mean,” she sniffled, “to break it,” she said and the first tears started rolling down her puffy cheeks. 

you quickly untangled your limbs from the blanket but before you could get up, mingyu put his hand on your thigh. “no, no, no,” he almost tripped from how fast he got up from the couch. “it wasn’t your fault, princess.” 

you thanked whatever grace that your daughter was smart enough not to move because the floor around her was litreed in small glass shards and you weren’t sure what you and mingyu would do if anything happened to her. 

not even a second later, he was at her side, picking up her small body and engulfing her in his big arms. 

“don’ be angry, daddy,” your baby cried into mingyu's shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

mingyu shook his head and turned around to face you with a heartbreakingly sad expression. “i’m not angry, baby. i was just scared,” he murmured. “daddy thought you hurt yourself.” 

you waved for them to come over to where you were sitting and muttered a quiet “come here”.  

your husband placed your daughter on his lap, her head pressed against his chest, on the same spot where yours was just a minute ago. her tiny fists were pressed against his naked tummy as she continued to sniffle quietly. 

wiping every tear that escaped her eyes you started to hum one of the lullababies mingyu used to sing to her when she was a newborn, something you still did when she was upset. your husband was stroking her hair the whole time, rocking her back and forth, as you continued to hum quietly.

“why did you take my camera, sweetheart?” mingyu asked after a while, when her breathing calmed down a bit. 

“i woke up,” she said, looking up at him with her big brown eyes. “and i saw you n’ mommy sittin’ and i wan’ to take picture. like you always take of me n’ mommy.” 

mingyu’s own eyes welled up with tears and he quickly tucked her head back to his chest so she wouldn’t see him upset. 

“oh, baby,” you whispered quietly, though you weren’t sure who needed more comforting at that point. “that’s so sweet, but next time ask me or daddy for help, okay? you could’ve seriously injured yourself.” 

your baby girl nodded and she scrambled off mingyu’s lap to throw herself in your embrace instead. well, it was nice to know that the unicorns and your husband hadn’t replaced you completely yet.  

“what do you say we go and grab a camera together, hm?” he asked. “and we can do a whole photoshoot, we can even make a white background with the sheets.” 

“pink. pink sheets,” she said and clapped her hands. it seemed that you and mingyu breathed a sigh of relief that your daughter was back to her normal, bubbly self.  

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot  @iamawkwardandshy  @icyminghao @heeseungthel0ml @goyangiiwonu @bath1lda @ruurooozz @ny0sang @luuxian @onerubii  @hurrican3-insert-nam3 @mekuiikore @luvseungcheol @thenotoriousegg @yuuyeonie @soffiyuhh @svtficsarchive @hyperdramas @huen1ngk41 @lesuneczka @oc3anfloor @gyuguys @fr-freak @bewoyewo

[halfvalid]

pretty in that

ABOUT

rating: general audiences

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!monkey d. luffy | live action!nami

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.2k

description: you have a hard time picking a dress for dinner whilst in kaya's mansion. zoro (sort of) helps!

tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, fluff, kissing, confessions, no use of "y/n", special straw hat appearances (nami & luffy), soft zoro

author's note: i'm a sucker for dress-up scenes so i KNEW i was gonna write smth like this once that ep3 scene started playing. reader chooses a dress at the end; dress is non-described so you can imagine your ideal dress!

You were on Nami and Zoro’s side when it came to whatever was going on in Syrup Village. Kaya’s mansion made you feel vaguely unsettled, and stepping into the building made your heart pound quicker than you would like to admit. But if there was one thing that piqued your interest, it was the order of changing clothes for dinner. You’d been stuck in the same few outfits for weeks now, and the promise of something new—and formal—was nearly exciting, although you’d never admit it in front of Nami and her disapproving gaze. 

Kaya’s kindness combined with the private guest room and bath you were treated to helped soothe your nerves. Soon you found yourself being led to the giant closet the rest of the Straw Hats were already in—Nami was trying on various different pieces, and Zoro seemed to have something in hand too. 

“Ah, there you are!” Luffy said, swiveling on his heel and giving you a big grin as you entered the room. You stared in disbelief at all of the racks around you. Hell, there were even clothes hanging from the ceiling. 

“Well, we certainly have a lot of options,” you said, skimming a hand over a nearby rack. There were a variety of different fabrics, but they all felt expensive: silk and velvet, damasks and brocades. “I don’t even know where to start.” 

“I’m just trying on anything,” Nami called from where she was, before stepping out from the room divider she’d been changing behind. She wore an emerald dress with a plunging neckline, the patterned silk clinging to her curves, and did a little spin. “What do you think?” 

Luffy shrugged. Zoro wrinkled his nose, barely glancing up from the armchair he was lounging on. “I think it looks nice,” you offered, but Nami still seemed dissuaded. 

“Ugh, these two are impossible. What are you going to wear?” 

“Uh, I’m getting there,” you said with a little laugh. “It’s a bit overwhelming; I’d rather help you guys pick first. Luffy, have you found something yet?” You turned towards the man in the center of the room, who nodded enthusiastically. 

“Yeah, I found this!” He raised up a black waistcoat. You frowned at it. 

“Um, Luffy, waistcoats are supposed to be worn with a suit,” you said, then paused, seeing his blank look. “...Never mind.” 

“And I’m wearing black,” Zoro added, despite the piece of clothing slung along his lap definitely not being black. You exchanged a glance with Nami, who just rolled her eyes. They’re stupid, she mouthed, then returned to the rack she was glancing through. She worked quickly, pulling out various numbers that she scrutinized before either setting on the couch beside her or putting back. 

“Okay,” you said slowly. “Need me to find you some pants with that, Cap?” Nami and Zoro let out identical groans as you spoke the pet name, both turning to give you exasperated looks. You suppressed your laugh. 

“Stop calling him that,” Zoro said with a tired sigh. “You’re encouraging him.” 

“Kind of the point, yeah,” you said cheerfully. While Zoro and Nami were both still largely unconvinced about the whole pirate crew thing, you’d joined the bandwagon rather quickly. Zoro rolled his eyes, and you turned towards the racks to find Luffy some slacks. “Assumedly you need something other than that shirt too?” 

“I’ll look later,” Zoro said passively. You watched him out of your peripheral vision. He was outfitted in a patterned kimono, his three swords slung along his lap. He didn’t seem too interested in his surroundings, though what he was doing, you weren’t sure. You let him be, turning to page through the racks of clothes again. Finally you found a pair of slacks that seemed like they’d fit Luffy. 

“Here,” you said, passing them over to him. “And find some shoes while you’re at it.” 

“Why does she even have clothes that don’t fit her?” Zoro murmured, sounding as baffled as he could get. “What, she just casually has clothes in all four of our sizes hanging around?” 

“Rich people own things just to own them,” Nami called. She’d changed again; this dress had a halter neckline and was blush pink. Zoro motioned with a hand at it, and Nami frowned, glancing down at the dress. “You don’t like it?” 

“Eh,” Zoro said. Nami made a face. 

“At this point I think you’re hating just to hate.” She pulled up a few more options, narrowing her eyes as she surveyed them. Luffy was seemingly satisfied with what you’d given him, because he took the pieces off of their hangers and slung them over his shoulder. 

“I’m off,” he announced. “Gonna go change in my room and do some exploring before dinner. Have fun!” With that, he left, and Nami sighed, turning towards you. She held up her final two options—a red cheongsam with delicate gold embroidery and a pastel blue dress with an a-line skirt. You gnawed on your bottom lip as you studied the two.

“I think the blue one might wash you out a bit,” you said eventually; it’d clash with her hair no doubt, and make her skin look even paler. The shade wasn’t a right match with her eyes, either. “I like the cheongsam; I think you should go with that one. It contrasts nicely with your hair.” 

Nami raised up the dress again, inspecting it. “You’re right,” she said, ducking back behind the room divider to change. You started pursuing the racks again; Nami stepped out a few moments later, successfully outfitted in her new dress. “Okay, I’m going to go do my hair in my guest room. Good luck.” 

“Bye,” you called, watching as she left the room. You clicked your tongue, almost alone now and with absolutely zero options of clothing. As much as you liked the idea of new clothes, the abundance of options was starting to seem a little daunting. “Okay, now that Nami’s done, it’s my turn to play dress-up.” 

Zoro laughed from where he sat, and you startled, almost having forgotten he was there. He was watching you attentively, his attention having diverted from whatever it was he’d been thinking about earlier. “You like this kind of thing?” 

“Well, I mean.” You shrugged, peering at a few of the pieces on the rack in front of you. You pulled out a deep green dress, eyeing the lace by the neckline before setting it back. “It’s kind of fun, isn’t it?” 

“Not really what I’m into.” 

“You wear jewelry, so clearly you have some fashionable instinct,” you pointed out, bending over to glance at the clothes hiding by your knees. These were all skirts or unreasonably short dresses, with so little fabric you were uncertain they would cover anything at all. “Unless the earrings are for another reason…?”

“Three swords, three earrings.” 

“Makes sense. What are you wearing with your shirt?” You glanced back to see Zoro’s answer, but he merely shrugged. “Do you want me to find you some trousers? A suit?” 

“You don’t need to find clothes for me. I can do that myself.” Still, Zoro made absolutely no move to do so. You rolled your eyes, but turned your attention back on what you’d be wearing for the dinner. Vaguely you wondered how Zoro would look wearing a suit. You flushed almost as soon as the thought popped into your head, shoving it into the very back of your skull and banishing it from seeing the light of day. 

“If you say so,” you said instead, mostly to distract yourself from the beyond inappropriate thoughts starting to run through your head. Honestly, you barely knew your crew mates—the four of you were close to tearing each other’s throats out before you ran into Buggy, after all. And the fact that Zoro was, well, conventionally attractive—and you tried to keep your thoughts on that and that alone, anything emotional was strictly out of the question—shouldn’t be something your mind lingered on. 

You picked out the first dress that looked to be your size. It was dark purple, backless with a tight trumpet skirt. Ducking behind the room divider Nami had used, you stripped off your clothes, donning the dress. There was a mirror along the other side of the divider, and you turned, trying to appraise the dress on your figure. The color didn’t look entirely right, and you were uneasy about the lack of mobility the skirt might have—Kaya’s staff were still extremely suspicious, after all, and you’d rather be safe than sorry. 

“Let me see,” Zoro called from outside. You tugged at the dress, suddenly nervous, but stepped out after you couldn’t find a good enough excuse not to. Zoro’s eyes ran up and down your figure, and you did a slow circle, showing off the dress. The bare skin of your back prickled. 

“You’re not going to be able to move in it,” he eventually said. 

You huffed out a breath, the nervous energy that had accumulated in your chest leaving with the action. Something in your belly stirred; disappointment, maybe, that Zoro had only commented on the practicality of the dress, not how you looked in it. But you pushed those thoughts away with an angry shove. Not the time, and definitely not the person to be thinking those sorts of things about. “Yeah, that’s what I was worried about. Let me find something else.” 

Zoro’s gaze didn’t flicker from your body as you started across the room, ducking between more racks to find something. “You dead-set on a dress?” 

“I haven’t worn a dress in a while,” you answered, picking out a red one before remembering Nami’s choice and setting it back. “Might as well take the opportunity.” The next one you pulled was blue, all shiny and soft. The material looked like some kind of tender silk. You set it aside to try on. “Why?” 

“Haven’t seen either you or Nami in a dress before.” 

“Actually, you have. I’m wearing one right now and Nami tried like five on earlier,” you said, glancing over your shoulder to shoot Zoro an unimpressed look. He scoffed, though there was a smile at the edges of his mouth as he turned his head away. Your next choice was soft pink, and made of tulle that vaguely resembled a puff pastry. You pulled it up. “Think I should try it?” 

“I mean, pick whatever,” Zoro said, though he seemed mildly disgusted by the amount of fabric the skirt had, all bunched up with layers like something a ballerina might wear. “What are you trying to achieve with the dress?” 

“What am I—I’m trying to look nice, Zoro,” you said, stifling your laughter. You set the pink dress back, replacing it with a sage green number instead. “Not everything has ulterior motives.” 

“You always look nice.” 

You froze, a soft chill curling around the back of your neck. Carefully, you straightened up from where’d you been bent over yet another rack of clothes, turning to look Zoro in the eye. His eyes hadn’t moved. “Oh,” you managed out, throat all dry and tongue like sandpaper in your mouth. “Well, thank you.” 

Zoro cleared his throat, a dull noise he made in the hollow of his throat without even parting his lips. His gaze flickered away. “Yeah. Go try those on.” 

Wordlessly, you stepped back behind the room divider and slipped on the blue dress. It had a texture like water—it was some kind of high-end silk, flexible enough that it was near liquid in movement. The dress itself fell to your ankles, and had a simple square neckline. You stepped outside, doing another slow twirl. “Better,” Zoro said. 

“Better how?” 

“You can probably run in it.” 

You twisted your lips, trying to suppress the urge to turn them down into a frown. “Okay. It’s not doing it for me.” You ducked back behind the divider to change yet again; the sage green one was satin, with long sleeves and a neckline you hadn’t anticipated would be that deep. 

Still, upon exiting the divider and turning for Zoro again, he didn’t have any worthwhile feedback. “It’s kind of plain,” he said eventually, not meeting your eyes. 

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest; you had to almost resist stomping over to the racks to find something more, and spent another few minutes gathering dresses and trying them on. 

To your immense disappointment, each one garnered little to no reaction from Zoro. You even shoved on one of the tiny, too-little fabric dresses you’d disapproved of earlier, but all Zoro did was scan you from head to toe and say, rather flatly, “you’d get stabbed pretty easily in that.” 

Frustration bled into your nerves as you hid behind the divider again. You glared at yourself in the mirror—your skin had started flushing with how annoyed you were getting, which might’ve been funny had you not been so ticked off. Men, you thought, irritated. Was it really so hard to tell you that you looked pretty? 

He’s a bounty hunter, you had to remind yourself. He doesn’t care about this kind of thing. Besides, he was the last person you should be setting your sights on anyway. You tugged at the short dress, the hem just barely grazing the tops of your thighs. 

You heard footsteps approaching from outside the divider, suddenly too close as you snapped yourself out of the reverie of thoughts you’d been lost in. Zoro turned the corner, arm propped up against the divider edge as he peered in, brows furrowed. “You stopped coming out,” he said. He was still in his kimono, swords tossed over one shoulder. The shirt he had was, assumedly, left on the couch he’d finally stood up from. 

“I’m frustrated,” you told him blandly. His frown deepened. 

“Because of… clothing?” 

You suppressed the sigh that threatened to escape your lungs. “Never mind. I’m fresh out of ideas.” You pushed past Zoro, opting to stand in the center of the room as if analyzing it from a different view would magically give you more options. Zoro turned to stare, still looking perplexed. “With so many options, it’s hard to make up my mind, that’s all.” 

“Uh huh.” Zoro was still studying you. “Did I do something?” 

“What? No,” you said hastily. Too hastily. The words had ripped out of your throat like a hiccup, and you seriously needed to learn how to lie a bit better because now Zoro’s expression was even more confused. “No. Why would I be mad at you?” 

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.” 

“It’s nothing,” you insisted, turning away from Zoro to stare at some of the clothes hanging on the wall above his head. These were too high up to properly look at, and as you stepped back, you glanced through the dresses hanging off the arch of the ceiling. You perused them without too much interest, eyes glancing over the various colors and fabrics until— 

Zoro stepped next to you. “Hey,” he said, and you jolted, head snapping down to look at him. You let out a noise of irritation, then turned your focus back on the ceiling. 

Your gaze flickered through the racks until finally falling on one particular dress hanging by the mouth of the room. It was somewhat hidden, tucked in a little corner beside a few other pieces, but from your vantage point it seemed about your size. 

You took a step closer to it, surveying it with your neck craned. The material looked soft and comfortable but it still retained shape, and the color—even in the dim lighting of the closet—was one of your favorites. The undertone would suit your skin perfectly. And, well, you didn’t want to put all your bets on one dress you hadn’t even touched, but it was certainly promising. 

Zoro stepped past you, barely exerting any effort to reach up and bring the dress down from where it hung up high. “This one, right?” he asked, and you swallowed, some of the annoyances you had towards him dissolving as he extended the dress hanger towards you. You nodded wordlessly, taking it. You stood there for a second before Zoro gestured with his head towards the divider. “Go try it on.” 

You did so, retreating safely behind your wall and stepping out of the little dress. You surveyed the one Zoro had grabbed for you again, heart lodged in your throat. It really was beautiful, and exactly your style; now that you saw it up close, you could safely affirm it was your size too, but nervousness still pulsed through your veins at it. 

Carefully, you slipped it on, adjusting the fabric around your hips and fixing up the neckline to rest evenly on your skin.

Zoro spoke out from the rest of the room. “So why are you mad at me?” 

“I’m not—” you sighed, dropping your arms before returning to fiddle with the dress. “I’m not mad at you.” 

“Is it because I wasn’t being helpful with the clothes? Because I already said that’s not exactly my area of expertise—” 

“It’s not because of the clothes, Zoro,” you said sharply, cutting him off. Zoro clicked his tongue, the sound reverberating around the room and thudding in time with your heartbeat. You turned your attention back onto your reflection. “It’s just me being silly. Don’t worry about it.” 

‘I’m worrying about it,” Zoro deadpanned. You sighed, adjusting the dress one final time before arranging your hair and staring at yourself in the mirror. It fit you perfectly, emphasizing all the right places and hiding all the parts of your body you were more insecure about. “Changed yet?” 

“Yeah,” you said, voice limp. 

“Let me see.” 

You bit your lip, suddenly nervous about how he’d react. Knowing him, it’d be something like it’s okay or the color’s fine; perhaps can you even walk in that? or weird shape if he was feeling a little more critical. Still, you stepped out anyway, not meeting Zoro’s eyes as you spun for him, letting him look at the dress from all angles. When you’d finished posing you glanced up, eyes meeting him tentatively. 

“It’s…” Zoro cleared his throat, ripping his gaze away from the dress on your figure to flicker up to your face. His gaze dropped again nearly as fast, like he couldn’t bear to keep eye contact. “Uh.” 

“It’s what?” you prompted, turning to face the nearest mirror. Your lips twisted into a worried frown, turning to glance at the dress again. Was it really not as perfect as you’d thought originally? “Do you like it? It’s my favorite so far, I think, but if you don’t like it—” 

“You look pretty in that,” Zoro blurted, cutting your rambles off with the strident, too-loud sentence. You froze, eyes flickering to meet him in the mirror. Carefully, he glanced up at you, and you could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. 

“Oh.” 

Zoro coughed, averting his gaze as you slowly turned around to face him. You couldn’t see properly with the less-than-ideal lighting of the room, but his face seemed to have taken on a ruddier complexion. “I like it,” he said, words softer than they’d been before. “It’s the one.” 

There was a little rush of something through your veins, and you felt vaguely lightheaded. “Okay,” you barely managed to squeak out. “Thanks.” You stumbled back behind the divider, sucking in a deep breath and trying to regulate your breathing. God, this was actually shameful at this point. 

You composed yourself quickly, gathering all the dresses you’d tried on and abandoned to return to their proper places. Zoro was still watching you attentively, and you glanced over your shoulder at him. Sparks prickled along your skin as your eyes met. “What?” you asked. 

“You’re acting weird.” 

“Am not.” 

Zoro stood up, rolling back his shoulders and stretching his head from side to side. He glanced through the racks and, without even a minute’s hesitation, plucked a suit jacket and matching pants out from beside him. “Yeah, you are. What’s up?”

“You’re just grabbing those without thinking about it?” you demanded, eager to change the subject. Zoro rolled his eyes.

“I picked them like fifteen minutes ago,” he said. “Just didn’t grab them until you were done your whole… thing. Now spill it. You’re all red again.” 

You swiveled towards the closest mirror, unable to suppress your gape as you saw that your skin had indeed turned a distinctive shade of scarlet, flushed undertones creeping their way up your skin. It was entirely recognizable even in the terrible lighting. Even your skin was treacherous, now. “Nothing,” you muttered, unable to meet Zoro’s eyes as you spit it out. “I was annoyed because you weren’t telling me what you thought of the dresses.” 

“I… did, though?” Zoro said, perplexed. You let out a grating sigh, cheeks flaring even hotter now that he was forcing you to confess the entire extent of your sins. 

“Yeah, like, practically,” you said, wrapping your arms defensively over your chest. “You’ll get stabbed in that so easily. You won’t be able to walk. I just wanted you to tell me that—” you cut yourself off with another groan. “Don’t make me say it.”

Zoro blinked. “I have no idea what you’re edging towards, so you’re going to have to say it.”

“I just wanted you to tell me I looked nice!” you finally burst out, turning so you wouldn’t have to look at Zoro’s face. God, you were going to have to quit the Straw Hats after this. It was so entirely stupid. 

“But—” There was a laugh in Zoro’s voice, and you glared down at the floor, all of your dignity having left you by this point. You had no shame left to feel anymore. “I said ‘you always look nice’. Doesn’t that insinuate—” 

“That’s not the point,” you said hotly, tone almost argumentative now. “I wanted you to think I looked pretty in a dress, Zoro.” 

Zoro didn’t respond for a moment, brows creasing and face taking on a baffled expression. “But why—” Zoro cut himself off, and you turned even redder, holding your breath as he finally connected the dots. A single word fell from his lips, like a soft breath of air as he spoke. “Oh.” 

“Oh,” you muttered under your breath, unable to stop the almost whining tone your voice took on. Zoro stepped closer to you, a hand wrapping around your wrist and forcing you to look up at him. 

“I said you looked pretty in this one.” 

“I know,” you insisted, still all red, “which is why I’m not totally mad at you, but—” 

“You looked pretty in all of them,” Zoro said. He didn’t look bashful, per se—you didn’t think Zoro could get shy—but his voice was low, all hoarse in a more tentative way rather than one of his grating remarks this time. “For the record.” 

Your breath caught. 

“This one’s my favorite, though,” Zoro muttered. And then he was leaning down to kiss you, the ghost of his lips just on the corner of your mouth. You gaped up at him in shock as he averted his gaze, staring at some spot about your head. “Was that—” he started, before clearing his throat and trying again with a little more of his dignity this time. “Was that okay?” 

“Yes,” you blurted fervently, and before you could fix up the moment with something more, well, suitable, your big mouth ruined it for you. “But I think we’re holding up dinner. You should get changed, and I still need to find shoes.” 

You bit your tongue immediately after the words had been said, but it was too late—Zoro coughed, turning away from you. You panicked, and now it was your turn to grab his arm and tug you towards him. “Wait!” 

Zoro glanced down at you, perplexed, and then you leaned up to kiss him square on the mouth. He stumbled back, surprised, but adjusted quickly, hand going to cradle the back of your neck and pressing you right to him before you finally broke apart. 

“You should steal it,” he started. You stared up at him in question. “The dress, I mean. You should steal it.” 

“When am I ever going to need to wear this again?” you asked, perplexed. Zoro shrugged, fingers tugging at the edge of the dress's neckline. 

“Dunno. Just take it. She probably won’t even notice.” 

“You’re adorable,” you teased; Zoro wrinkled his nose but didn’t complain, opting instead to move away and pick up the clothes he still hadn’t changed into. “Go change. See you at dinner.” 

“Yeah,” Zoro said, his eyes not straying from your figure as you ducked out of the room. Before you could fully leave, though, Zoro grabbed your wrist, spinning you around towards him.

You didn’t have enough time to ask what he was doing when he leaned around to kiss you one final time, his hands cradling your face as your lips moved against each other. It was only a moment later that he stepped away, looking rather sheepish but not very apologetic as he finally let you go. 

“You look more than pretty,” he murmured, eyes sinking into yours, and your throat dried, any words you might’ve formed dying away within seconds. “You always look more than pretty. You look gorgeous.” 

“Thank you,” you whispered, and then he ducked back inside the closet to change. 

© halfvalid 2023